Finally, whatever you do, wherever you go, whichever game you decide to play—do not ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever even think about bringing a healthy snack such as an almond onto a casino floor.
Good luck.
Timeline of a Celebrity’s Day
10:00 a.m.—Gently woken up by houseboy Mañuel
10:00:07 a.m.—Quietly utter the word “snooze,” letting Mañuel know he is to return in nine minutes
10:00:08 a.m.—Dream about ponies
10:09 a.m.—Gently woken up again by houseboy Mañuel
10:09:05 a.m.—Quietly utter the words “snooze, coffee,” letting Manuel know he is to return in nine minutes with a cup of coffee
10:09:06 a.m.—Dream about ponies being friends with turtles
10:18 a.m.—Gently woken up again by houseboy Mañuel. Fed coffee.
10:25 a.m.—Carried into shower
10:30 a.m.—Bathed, shampooed, told I’m pretty by Shower Robot 3000
11:00 a.m.—Driven to work in solar-powered dune buggy
11:30 a.m.—Greeted at work by receptionist, told I’m pretty
1:00 p.m.—Fed lunch
1:30 p.m.—Yoga
2:30 p.m.—Pilates
4:00 p.m.—Tape talk show
5:00 p.m.—Helicopter home
6:00 p.m.—Fed dinner in tree house
8:00 p.m.—Read bedtime story by author of book I’m currently reading, tucked in by houseboy Mañuel, told I’m pretty and to dream of ponies
Sleep
I just read an interesting statistic: 49 percent of people think it’s “wheel barrel,” not “wheelbarrow.” I also read that 33 percent of Americans suffer from some sort of sleep disorder. That’s a lot of people. According to my math, that means nearly 104 percent of the people reading this book right now have trouble sleeping at night.
About half of you out there are going to take sleeping pills to try and fall asleep, and I have to admit that worries me. I’m not a doctor or a mother or that older woman from Touched by an Angel who tried to guide people on the right path, but when I hear about friends and loved ones who are on sleeping pills, for some reason I just want to steer them away from doing that.
I know why I worry. It’s because of all the stories I’ve heard about people who do some pretty crazy things while they’re on sleeping pills—things like walking in their sleep, driving in their sleep, even eating in their sleep. Some people do more in their sleep than I do in a whole weekend.
Sleep-eating is fascinating to me. People get up in the middle of the night and start eating things they find around the house—sometimes things that aren’t even edible. And they have absolutely no memory of it until they wake up the next morning and find the remnants of a half-eaten sofa in their great room.
Some people only find out they’ve been sleep-eating after they start to gain weight. I read about someone who gained seven pounds and had no idea how. Can you imagine waking up one day full of pudding and having to ask your spouse, “Honey, quick question—did we go on a ten-day cruise last night?”
Sleep is one of the most important things we need to stay happy and healthy, and being the type of person that I am, I want to help each and every one of my sleep-deprived readers in any way I can. I thought of some things you can do to get to sleep without drugs. So if you, dear reader, are one of the millions of sufferers, please read on while I attempt to cure you.
Now, some of you are probably reading this book in bed to try and fall asleep. Silly! Unless you get tired from laughing too hard, this isn’t the kind of book that’s going to knock you out. You need to read something boring, like a story written by Harry Connick Jr. or something. Or better yet, a math or science textbook. That’ll put you right out. But by the time you find one of those lying around your house, it’s gonna be midnight. Plus, I don’t want you to have to get up from bed right now. You’ll end up tripping over a lamp cord on your way to the bookshelf. The cord will knock over the lamp, causing the lightbulb inside to shatter into a million pieces. You’ll keep walking, trying to avoid all the glass but how can you, it’s all tiny, tiny shards scattered about a shag rug. So you’ll accidentally step on a piece and you’ll scream, “Shoot!” because your New Year’s resolution was to curse less and, even though it’s hard, you’ve managed to hold pretty true to your word. Except for that one time when you jammed your finger in the car window outside church and you yelled such a specific, horrible series of expletives that you actually had to stop going to that church and go to the one in the neighboring town.
After you yell “Shoot!” your wife or husband or son or daughter will wake up from all the commotion. Your son was probably awake anyway because he just got home after sneaking out of the house to meet his friends in the mall parking lot. That’s always been your greatest fear. You worry that he goes there to cause mischief but really he’s a good kid who just wants to fit in and hang out with his friends. He’s actually never even touched a cigarette let alone smoked one, or smoked anything for that matter. I mean, one time he tried cocaine but that was only because his friends told him it was sugar and who doesn’t love sugar? Especially after sleeping with a hooker. I’m not saying your son slept with a hooker, I’m just saying everyone loves sugar.
So your son runs into the living room to see what happened. He finds you clutching your foot, which is bleeding from the glass, muttering curses under your breath. It’s actually a nice moment because he gets you some ice and asks if you’re okay. You tell him you are and you ask him if you can borrow one of his algebra textbooks because you’re having trouble sleeping. Turns out he’s a senior in high school and he hasn’t taken algebra in three years, he takes calculus now. He gets upset that you don’t know anything about him, yells something about his “real dad,” and storms out of the house. But he never tells you where his calculus books are, so you’re back to square one, only worse off because of the glass in your foot and the sadness in your heart.
So what I’ve done for you is included some math equations here in this chapter. You just have to read them and you’ll be dreaming of rainbows or puppies or being naked in English class in no time at all.
E=MC2. Are you still awake?
The square root of 144 is 12. Still up?
If a train carrying cargo pants is traveling due east at 50 miles an hour and a bus carrying bananas is traveling north at 60 miles an hour, how much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood? Have you fallen asleep yet?
Okay, if that didn’t do the trick, I have more help to offer. People love to count sheep to go to sleep. But that can be hard, too, because you have to get out of bed, find a reputable shepherd in your area, and hope they can deliver you over 109 sheep on a moment’s notice. So what I’m going to recommend instead is that you count—stay with me—imaginary sheep. Yep, that’s why they pay me the big bucks. For ideas like that.
Let’s do it together. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Fourteen. Twenty. Twenty-one. Twenty-two. Forty-eight. You know what, I’m not great at counting. Let’s move on.
I have one more idea. This will work best if you pretend I’m hovering over your face swinging a pocket watch from side to side. Stare straight ahead. You’re getting very sleeeeeeepy. Verrrrrryyyyy sleeeeeepyyyyyyyyy. Verrrrryyyyyy—wait! WAKE UP! I just realized something very important. I don’t want you waking up in the morning, going to work, and telling people you fell asleep last night reading my book. That would be horrible! What would they think?! They would think my book is boring and dull. I can’t have that. Wake up! Go get yourself a cup of coffee, pour some Red Bull in it, splash some cold water on your face, and read on!
Letter to Mall Security
To Whom It May Concern:
I am writing in regard to your letter dated March third where you cite my potential involvement in what your company has deemed the “Vase Breaking Incident.”
First of all, kudos to your team for tracking me down so quickly
using, I assume, only my license plate number. I assure you I was not “fleeing the scene” as your letter indicated. I was simply on my way to an appointment I suddenly remembered I had. And the reason you may have heard the words “See ya, suckers” as I drove away was because I happened to have a song playing in my car with the lyrics “See ya, suckers, bye-bye, mall cops, try and get me if you can.”
I am willing to admit that it was in fact me riding around the mall on the Segway I borrowed from a mall security officer. I would like to offer my sincerest apology for the chaos that ensued.
It was never my intention to ride the Segway all the way through the mall, up the escalator in Macy’s, down the escalator in JCPenney, around the parking lot, and into the kitchen of the Cheesecake Factory. I thought I was taking it back to mall security headquarters, which I realize now is inside the mall under the sign that says “Mall Security Headquarters” and not inside the Dumpster outside the restaurant.
As for the vase, I did not break it and I’m happy to explain how it ended up shattered all over the floor of Pottery Barn. What happened was, after I did a bit of shopping in the mall, I was tired and decided to sit down inside the Pottery Barn store on the second level. They have the most comfortable sofas by far. I must have dozed off and about an hour or so later, I felt a tap on my shoulder. When I sprang up off the sofa, the reason I punched the Pottery Barn employee in the face was because at that time I was having a dream about being a pro boxer and fighting Mike Tyson inside a Crate & Barrel. Weird, I know, since I was actually, as I stated earlier, inside a Pottery Barn.
The employee—I think his name was Jon or Joe or Wisconsin; I don’t know, everyone’s got weird names nowadays—asked me to leave the store because I wasn’t buying anything and other customers wanted to try out the sofa. He was rude and I told him how I felt.
Just then my phone rang. It was a friend of mine named Carol who I hadn’t talked to in months and months. She had some very exciting news to share about a promotion at work. I won’t go into the specifics, but she’s been working in the sales department of a large telecommunications company for almost twenty-three years and she’s been waiting for a promotion for a long, long time. They’ve had cutbacks over the years and it’s a hard time right now because so many people are switching to cell phones. Do you know that barely anyone has a landline anymore? Carol is a landline specialist. I don’t know if that’s her exact title, but that’s her department. I always feel a little guilty when she has to call me on my cell phone, like it’s a direct attack on what she does for a living. She doesn’t feel that way. We’ve talked about it before and she has no problem with it, it’s just something I always think about. But it’s conversations like that, where you really get stuff out in the open, that make friendships stronger.
So when Carol told me about her big promotion to vice president or president or something of the entire company—I’m not sure which, it’s very hard to hear inside a mall—I got so excited I started jumping up and down on the sofa. Well, that apparently knocked some cushions off, which in turn knocked into a vase, which in turn fell on the floor and shattered. I don’t know who designs your stores, but carpeting might be a good idea if you’re going to have fragile objects on display that can fall and break into thousands of pieces when someone does something as benign as jumping on a sofa.
So anyway, as you can see this is Carol’s fault. I’m happy to send you her phone number and address so you can send her a copy of the bill. I will be forwarding my invoice on to her as well.
Now, the reason I ran as fast as I could out of the store at the exact moment Carol made me smash the vase was because, as you may recall, Wisconsin had asked me to leave. And after I ran out of the store, the reason I kneeled down behind that mall kiosk until Wisconsin passed me by was because I saw a beautiful hat that I thought might fit my head. I don’t know if you like hats, but that kiosk has so many to choose from. I have a small head and it’s hard for me to find hats, so when I see a few that might work I have to stop.
When Wisconsin finally caught up to me—and good for him for recognizing me under that big sun hat and oversize sunglasses—the reason I spoke with a French accent and pretended not to understand him was because I was practicing for a part I’m playing in a French movie called Le Mysterious Lady.
I really like to get into my roles even when I’m practicing and that’s why I quickly grabbed the Segway from the security guard who started to approach us. You know how every French film has an exciting getaway scene where a car drives down a long set of steps? That’s what I was trying to emulate when I took the Segway down that escalator. I realize now that was very dangerous and it was unfortunate timing that I yelled that minute-long series of very adult words just as those children were leaving the Build-A-Bear Workshop. But you have to admit the way they repeat those words in their tiny little voices is adorable.
As for the money I took out of the mall fountain, that’s a much simpler explanation. After the commotion at Pottery Barn and the Segway chase and my purely coincidental makeover into a geisha at the makeup counter at Bloomingdale’s, I stood next to the fountain to take a breather. I saw some children making wishes and throwing money into it and I happened to tell them that the more money they throw in, the more likely it is that their wishes will come true. I mean, a penny doesn’t get you anything nowadays and kids need to learn that lesson. It was my understanding that any money they threw in the fountain that exceeded one cent then belonged to me. I definitely didn’t realize that my getting in the fountain to claim my money would result in such an intense underwater handstand competition between so many people.
I realize that you still might be interested in pressing charges, but I have to say if it wasn’t for all the stress Carol caused by breaking the vase, none of this would have happened.
Sincerely and fondly,
Ellen
PS—If you’re wondering how three of the horses from the carousel next to the food court ended up in my backyard, I am happy to explain that in a separate letter.
How to Become a Billionaire
Make a lot of money.
Don’t spend it.
5 Extremely Easy Ways to Make a Lot of Money
Win the Mega Millions jackpot.
Create a social networking site that every single person on Earth and elsewhere wants to join.
Write a hit song using the word “love” and the phrase “I remember.” People go crazy for songs about love and memories.
Write a wildly successful series of novels about magical teenage vampire hobbits.
Have a major Hollywood studio turn novels about aforementioned magical teenage vampire hobbits into a gigantic motion picture franchise.
There. Easy.
Inside My Head
I’m on vacation right now. Or as some people say, I’m on holiday. Or as other people say, I’m paying a lot of money to sit on a beautiful beach and do nothing but eat, sleep, and eat. I’ve had a pretty busy couple of years and this is the first time in a long time that I can take a break and just sit down, relax, and think about nothing. I’m just gonna let my mind wander. I’m gonna sit here and stare at the water and, even though it sounds irresponsible, I’m going to let my mind just go off on its own… walk away… wherever it wants to go… totally unsupervised.
Here we go.
Ahhhhhhhhhhh. This feels nice. The ocean breeze is like Mother Nature softly blowing in my face. Usually I don’t like it when people blow right in my face, especially if they’ve just smoked a cigarette or had some coffee or a bite of Gouda, but this is nice.
The ocean is beautiful. It’s crystal blue. Almost turquoise, or aquamarine. Aqua. Hmm. “Aqua” is only one letter away from “agua,” which is Spanish for “water.” I wonder if that’s on purpose. The agua is aqua. That’s fun to say. Oops, I just said that out loud. The gentleman next to me just glared at me. I’m sorry, sir. I’m sorry that I’m so smart and I know that “agua” means “water” in Spanish. I a
lso know how to say “hello” in Spanish. I can’t remember it right now, but I’ll think of it in a minute. So take that, sir.
There’s someone walking by in flip-flops. That looks uncomfortable—she’s kicking up sand everywhere. She’s gonna find sand in places she didn’t even know she had later. I bet it’ll end up in her bed. I can just picture her turning over in the middle of the night after having a dream about Goldie Hawn chasing her down a spiral staircase in Guadalajara and she’ll get a face full of sand. Maybe she wants that. Sand can be exfoliating.
I wonder who invented the flip-flop. It must’ve been someone who loves joint pain or hates getting places quickly. I hope that lady’s not in a hurry because she is not going anywhere fast. She might as well be wearing high heels. I don’t know if I’ve ever actually seen anyone wearing high heels and a bathing suit on the beach. I’ve seen it on The Price Is Right, that’s for sure. Plinko is such a fun game.
We inflict a lot of pain on ourselves, don’t we? We walk in high heels and wear flip-flops. Just a thin piece of rubber with a plastic strap jammed between our toes. That’s acceptable to us as footwear. We get bikini waxes. We pinch ourselves when things are going well. Why can’t we just be hairy and wear sensible shoes and kiss ourselves all over when we’re happy? I guess that’s what a hippy is. I should move up north and become a hippy.
Shoot, I can’t. I have a dentist appointment next week.