When I Grow Up, I Wanna Be Just Like Heidi Fleiss
Little girls have big dreams; teacher, ballerina, prime minister of the world, rainbow fairy, Queen. This is sort of what my short list looked like, actually, not all that long ago (still pint-sized, remember; only 30). Recently though, I spent a bit of time with my Life Coach, the famed Sheri Hartman, refining the list, checking it twice and making sure that there was enough room for me to be very naughty and a little bit nice. Seems I’m still dreaming big and to make sure that I don’t ever have to compromise any of them, I’m applying to add 5 more hours to every working day. I’ll let you know how that one makes out.
In the interim, life is very fabulous with my rockstar kids and hubby, uber-successful EstablishedMen.com and my reality TV show, New York Confessions, set to air this fall and starring, MOI! Lots to do and a million people to meet – still no business cards to hand out. You know that’s all I’ve ever wanted, eh – pretty and pink business cards which I could use to shamelessly promote whatever definition of myself I’d choose to accept and maybe even live up to. I can’t tell you how many business cards I’ve collected over the years and how many google images of cardstock I’ve trolled through, trying as hard as I possibly could to find one, the one, which would inspire the business card I would use to loudly and proudly say “I AM”. What’s up with that? Why do we so desperately need to define ourselves by a word, a title, a limiting label? Funny that as I’m writing this, my best girlfriend ever, H, called to tell me that she just had her business cards printed. Regardless of how many truly sensational manuscripts she’s written, only now with a floral business card in hand, is she an AUTHOR! Congrats H, you have arrived to the amazing place I know you’ve been at forever.
I, on the other hand, arrived at the office today, with my sad suspicions confirmed. Louie, the Shopper’s Drug Mart guy who has never helped me find my favourite “girl looking for a deal” beauty basics, but always says “hi” and notices when my hair has gone through some very fertile growth spurt, stepped into my subway car on his way to his daily ritual of pummeling some helpless soul to the ground with his fancy Muay Thai skills. That’s right shoppers, Louie can help you find the perfect cheap chapstick and kill the man who didn’t buy you stock in Sephora. Anyhow, he asked where I was heading and after I told him all about EM and all the other things I do when I’m not searching for that much needed undereye concealer (26 and counting), he asked for a business card. My chest was pounding, my palms were glowing (gals don’t sweat, remember) and with my heart in my throat, I said “oh, I don’t have one”. Before I could offer up my usual stuttering excuse, Louie interrupted. “No business card. Well then I don’t believe you.” I will not even dare attack the artificial sense of security he feels when wearing his little red, plastic Louie (not to be confused with Louis as in Vuitton)name tag because really, all the guy did was hand me a fistful of my own insecurities, and he seems like a pretty decent guy; not to mention, lethal. So, at the top of my to do list today is, GET A BUSINESS CARD, DAMN IT!!! But what will it say?
And so the usual and inevitable process of “who am I and who am I not” begins. H says I should just print up cards with my signature and contact information because I am whatever I want to be on any given day, not withstanding public holidays and other awful days when the malls are closed and when I am only “mom”. I like the idea. Cool and mysterious. The other possibility is to offer up an opportunity to my loving and hating public. If you had to pick me out of a line up, identifiable only by my business card, how would it read?
I realize that I’m opening up the floodgates of venom that spew daily from the anonymous fingers of my critics (often at around 2 in the morning – when if you’re awake, you should be having random and raunchy sex and not thinking about me; or even while thinking of me). Should make for good fun though. Oh, and if you’re wondering, the title of this blog was inspired by one such obsessed and unassured, irrelevant and weak individual who calls me “Thornhill Heidi Fleiss Mom”. How does that look on pink?
Looking forward to hearing from you.
In black italicized writing on pink cards, it would be gorgeous!! The one true problem with Ms. Fleiss is that she got caught and that it might have been a teensy bit illegal. Be whomever you want to be on any given day. I’ve always liked the title of, Life Executive. You’re in charge of everything!
April
August 2, 2009
Well, all I can say Simone, is that is MOI, too. I feel exactly the same way.. although I confess I have had business cards for 3 years of my 5 year business life..but I am never satisfied with the.
But men do, somehow when meeting you for the first time or even after 20 years of long marriage, finally believe “Oh, you do S O M E T H I N G for real!!” I thought you were just a lowly mother and housewife cum sex partner when I need one really bad!
I say, IF and only IF you really need a card go with what H recommened.. your signature.. perhaps on pink.. and as flowery as you want.. be mysterious!!!
Keep ‘em guessing and asking questions!!! lol
Marg L
August 5, 2009
loved u on 102.1 the edge last week.
soccer mom on the prowl
August 11, 2009