Monday, December 12, 2005

My Publicist So Dropped the Ball

Okay, so like I am a really forgiving person. You know, some times I want to get all mad and stuff and flip my lid, but most of the time I just take a break, grab a little O2 and come back all relaxed and ready to move on. But like right now, I'm still a little worked up and that is after I spent a whole day sun bathing with Amelia to unwind.

It's my publicist, ya know? I just don't think he is advancing my career the way he needs to right now. This weekend there was an article on CafePress in the NYT and all the weirdos who maintain virtual storefronts, but like there was no mention of my store. Come on, a fame seeking aardvark who is totally hot is *at least* as important as a bacon ribbon or some lame reference to Napoleaon Dynamite. A publicist with half an ounce of gumption would have totally landed me a sentence in the article, or at least a clause, or even crammed me between two commas. Like I don't care. I just feel totally dissed being excluded. Like I find the NYT boring (I mean come on, it calls itself the "Gray Lady"), but lots of people with kids read it. Surely someone would have said, "You know, I would look totally awesome in a baby doll t-shirt that said 'Aardvark Fabulous'." And you know what, that person would be 100% right.

And did you know that I released a movie this weekend? I bet not. You know why? Because no one in the entire country knew my movie was released. There was no buzz, much less pop, hum, or even a murmur. Hello! You need to reach the public as a publicist! I'm so totally miffed that not even chocolate covered ants can cheer me up. We even had hot posters made up for the movie:

Incredi-bears movie poster

Oh my god, doesn't that totally drag you in? The font says horror movie, but the teddy bears say huggable. "Solving laundry emergencies" sounds like it could be an adventure flick or maybe even an old-fashioned who-dun-it, but the boys in the basket scream road trip. I have to admit that I think the movie wasn't destined to be a blockbuster. I mean, teddy bears just aren't very action oriented and a movie where fabric softener is a plot lynchpin is about as gripping as handshakes at a carpel tunnel support group. But I figured people would least show up the first weekend, right? 'til they heard from their friends that the movie was a yawner? Wrong-o! Ben Affleck's last ten dozen lame movies have all flopped, but at least a handful of people showed up on opening weekend. What happened to mine?

Okay, so it was a bad weekend. I mean opening opposite The Chronicles of Narnia and the week before King Kong was like a really dumb idea. Like I mean a REALLY dumb idea. Guess whose idea it was. Like YEAH! Yet another example of my publicist dropping the ball ... like right on my head this time. I'm so embarassed. I mean, NO ONE showed up at my movie. Literally, not one ticket was sold. Okay, so maybe some bored slackers snuck in or something, but that doesn't count.

And have you read my autobiography? Say what? Like why not? Oh, I DON'T HAVE AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY! Like what's up with that? Even Nicole Richie has an autobiography. Would America rather read the totally inspiring story of a cute young aardvark's quest for fame and fortune, or would they rather listen to the bogus whining of a rich parasite complaining about being rich and famous and spats with her completely talentless best friend. Okay, even I would rather read the second book, but this is America -- in the internet age -- where every wannabe starlet gets a vanity press autobiography. This aardvark demands on demand publishing at the very minimum!

Bottom-line, I'm thinking of getting a new publicist. I feel kind of bad about it, but I think it might be necessary. Oh my god, I wouldn't be here without my publicist. He took all those early photos and came up with the idea of publicly pursuing Brad Pitt (I had only be privately pining for him) and even got me onto the cover of US Quarterly. That was all so cool and so sweet. But he might have taken me about as far as he can. Like I hate to say this, but I think I might have out grown my publicist.

Now I just need to figure out my next step.

Amelia, grab my thinking loofah! I'm gonna take a hot shower.


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