My fans follow me everywhere. Michael’s fans may follow him from city to city but my fans follow me from room to room! Sometimes they trip me up as they anticipate my next step. They track my location, they sniff me out, they call me on my cell phone. They insist that I come home, or stop cooking, or “pick me up”, “let me in”, or “play with me”…they adore me! AARRRGH!
Even though I only have 5, they are everywhere! I can’t escape them. Sometimes I’ll step out the bathroom and find a group of the younger ones standing there at the door clapping and cheering. A couple of the older ones are sprawled across my bed waiting to pounce on me for conversation. They just love being in my presence!
Unlike Michael Jackson, I do things for my fans that he would never do for his: I chauffer them around. I pick their boogers. I buy them things. I wipe their butts. I fix their meals.
Wait, am I a rock star or an enslaved mom?
I’m a Rock Star, baby! A R-O-C-K ST-R!!
Tito, get me some water. Oh, you can’t reach it? Then I’ll get it. (sigh)
Most stars are wearing clothes created by someone else. I wear a style all my own. In the morning I do a quick wash up and pull sweats over my satin p.j.s. FUNKY FRESH BABY! No time for a shower the fans are already up and demanding to see me. They just love me!