Which celebrity would you like to be for a day?

None. I positively, wholeheartedly, unequivocally would not want to be a celebrity of any kind, today or otherwise. I can think of nothing worse than having my private life under a microscope. I can’t think of anything more distressing than being recognized by rabid fans while grocery shopping. And, if you’re having an off day, to be criticized up and down in the press for not being friendly enough. It sounds like the second circle of hell to me.

If I were a celebrity, I think I would be the Sean Penn variety; smashing cameras and beating up paparazzi. I would be dragged into court time and again for destroying personal property. Either that, or I’d become a hermit, never leaving my house and never taking interviews from anyone.

In the interest of answering the question at hand, if I had no choice but to be a celebrity for a day, I would choose to be one whose name everyone knows, but people don’t necessarily recognize by sight, perhaps a famous author or a radio personality.

Although, if I had to choose one, I’d want one with plenty of resources so that I could spend the day doing things I don’t normally do like flying off to the south of France just for a bottle of wine or flying to Scandinavia to see a band play.

However, a celebrity with plenty of resources usually means mainstream success. Mainstream and I don’t really get along. I’d have to be Dan Brown or J.K. Rowling or something to pull that off and that I could not abide. So, let’s rethink our strategy.

Alright, plenty of resources, not instantly recognizable by the shambling hordes… Steve Jobs. Yes, I’d be Steve Jobs for a day. If I were Steve Jobs, I could make myself think about how I took a great product and turned it into just another marketing gimmick. I could make myself stop with the stupid advertisements and the “i” everything. I would tell myself to go back to where I started and stop being such a money-grubbing whore.

Then I’d fly off to the south of France for a nice bottle of Alsace and some Trappiste de Chambarand cheese. I’d follow the sun setting across the world and drift off to sleep in a bed made from a million goose feathers whilst virgin maidens massaged my feet.