My Point ... And I Do Have One (17 page)

Dear Ellen,
Whenever I’m walking my dog, people bend down and talk to her, saying things like, “You’re a cute doggie. How old are you?” Is this weird?

Signed, Wondering if it’s weird that people bend down and talk to my dog

Dear Wondering …
It’s only weird if they’re expecting an answer back from your dog.

It would also be weird if somebody asked you how old your dog was and you looked down at her and said, “Say that you’re two years old,” in the same voice that people talk to babies with. Because no matter how long you pleaded, the dog is never going to talk (neither is the baby, unless you plead for a year or so).

Also, a dog doesn’t care how old she is. Yet some people have birthday parties for their dogs. Some people have
surprise
birthday parties for their dogs. That’s just a waste, because any party would be a surprise to a dog. She has no idea when her birthday is. A dog doesn’t sit around thinking, “Boy, my birthday is coming up in two weeks. I hope they throw me a party.”

Dear Ellen,
How would I explain to an alien that people bet on horse races and dog races, but they don’t bet on people running or car races?

Please forward your answer to the Municipal 200 on the planet Qogratz, located on the far side of the Milky Way.

Signed, Going on a trip and don’t expect to be back any time soon

Dear Going …

I guess in order to bet on a race there has to be some sort of animal involved. We’d probably bet on the Indy 500 if there was a monkey driving around in a race car. Maybe we’d bet on the 100-yard dash if all the sprinters had to carry a pig while they ran (this might make the winning times a lot slower).

Also, have fun on your trip. I hope that you read this before you leave, because I’m not sure that I can forward this answer; you didn’t leave a zip code! You know how strict they are about that.

Dear Ellen,
Hi. My name is Spoogy. What do you think about that?

Signed, Spoogy

Dear Spoogy,
I think it’s great.

Dear Ellen,
Who stole the cookies from the cookie jar?

Signed, Spoogy

Dear Spoogy,
You stole the cookies from the cookie jar.

Dear Ellen,
Not me.

Signed, Spoogy

Dear Spoogy,
Yes, you.

Dear Ellen,
Couldn’t be.

Signed, Spoogy

Dear Spoogy,

Then who, my dear Spoogy, then who?

You obviously need more help than I can give. I recommend you talk to a counselor or a clergyman or basically anyone else besides me.

crazy
superstitions
that really
work!

1. If your nose itches, someone wants to kiss you.
   
2. If the clasp on your necklace has turned to the front, someone is thinking about you.
   
3. If your ears are burning, someone is talking about you. If your ears are itchy, they are dirty.
   
4. If your palms are burning, you will be coming into some money soon. If your palms are ringing, you are crazy.
   
5. If you hit your funny bone, you will hear a joke within twenty-four hours. If you hit your head, you will cry.
   
6. If you find a bunny in your yard, a distant relative will marry a Finnish diplomat in September.
   
7. If a spider is in your pants, you will hop around and scream.
   
8. If you sleep with a teabag tied around your head, I don’t know why.
   

the benefits
of being a
celebrity

by
ellen degeneres, big enormous star

M
any people ask me, “Ellen, how has fame changed your life? What does it feel like to be a star?” And really, it makes me laugh—I mean I’m no different from anyone else. I guess just because I’m a “celebrity” (or, if you prefer, America’s most beloved comic sweetheart) they assume my life is weird or something. My daily routine is pretty much the same as yours—or even yours.

I wake up around—oh seven, seven o’ five. My house-boy, Quaw, prepares my breakfast, usually a Figurine and a glass of apple juice and maybe half of a banana. Then I’ll play with my pony for a while out by the lake—that brings me up to lunchtime. Quaw will usually surprise me for lunch. Sometimes he’ll be dressed up as an Indian and serve some spicy Indian dish and a Pepsi with a straw. Or, he’ll be a Spanish conquistador or a Chinese emperor and I’ll pretend to be a peasant girl from the village who’s hungry and he invites me into the palace for a cup of soup. Then he asks me if I want to use his washroom to bathe, and I do and then at 3
P.M
. I’ll watch
Oprah
. After that, I’ll write a letter to
People
magazine or
US
magazine to compliment or protest some story they wrote about Johnny Depp or Madonna or somebody.

Okay, that brings me to around six o’clock when I go pick up the kids from day care. Not my kids; I drive a van for the neighborhood moms who are busy. Then I’ll be home in time for
Wheel of Fortune
and a hot meal: maybe lasagna or pasta with a creamy pesto sauce or some vegetarian burritos.

From 8:30–9:30 Quaw will do some exotic dancing in the disco for me and some of my close friends. Then we will talk and visit and finally head on into the den to the big-screen TV to watch either Jerry Springer, CNN, or whatever is on my outdoor security camera. Around midnight my friends mosey out of my house, I take a couple of Excedrin PMs and a glass of Diet Sprite, and call it a day.

Though my typical day is nothing out of the ordinary, I must begrudgingly admit that being a celebrity does carry with it some pretty cool perks. I’d like to list for you now some benefits of being a celebrity.

“Hey,” you might now be interjecting, “I don’t have to read the rest of this—I already am a celebrity.” Well let’s make sure you know what the term
celebrity
means. A celebrity is a well-known famous person who is easily recognized. If you are a person who has chosen not to have sex, you’re not a celebrity—you’re celibate. Now, I’m sure there are many benefits to being celibate, though the only two that spring to my mind are: one, you probably become better at other things, like, for instance the Jumble or remembering
Star Trek
trivia; and two, I would imagine you don’t have to change your sheets quite so often. But that’s not what I care to talk about right now.

Here then are some advantages of being a celebrity.

When you’re a celebrity you tend to get special treatment. For instance, I was at the Sizzler yesterday and a woman who worked there came up to me and told me that I could eat all the shrimp I wanted. I heard her say it to a lot of other people, too—which goes to prove one thing: A lot of celebrities eat at the Sizzler.

At the Gap they have a special changing cubicle just for celebrities—it’s just like all the others except it has a star on the door and a bowl of fruit inside. Also, you’re not limited to three items, you can bring in four.

When a celebrity plays Scrabble, the letters Q and Z are worth twenty points and not ten, the celebrity is allowed to see her opponents’ tiles, and whatever a celebrity says is a word is a word (e.g., ZQWXJEM). This may lead to some arguments with your noncelebrity friends, but don’t let that worry you. Another benefit to being a celebrity is that you get to win every argument you’re in.

In every election, whether it’s local, state, or national, a celebrity’s vote is counted twice.

One of the major benefits of being a celebrity is that more people know how to pronounce your name correctly. That may not sound like much, but when you have a name like DeGeneres, believe you me, that counts for plenty. An added plus is that more people know how to pronounce my brother’s name as well.

The National Board of Health says that celebrities are allowed to eat five eggs a week and not four. If you win a People’s Choice Award you’re allowed fifteen eggs a week.

Celebrities get free HBO for a week once or twice a year. I know this happens for me; I’m guessing it happens for other celebrities, too.

Though it might be considered pretentious in others, it is never showy for a celebrity to have an entourage. I personally don’t go anywhere without an entourage of fifteen to thirty-five people complimenting me incessantly and laughing loudly at all of my jokes. Though it gets kind of crowded when I go into one of those little booths to have my passport picture taken, I find that it’s worth the inconvenience. Among the members of my entourage (or if you prefer retinue or gang) are: Stumpy, my personal trainer; Lupé, my sheep herder (I keep her around in case I ever decide to purchase some sheep or even just one sheep); Pantry, the woman who brushes my teeth; Todd, my food taster (I’m sorry, Todd was my first food taster—he died after eating a bad batch of Rice Krispies Treats that I must have undercooked. Dutch, my second food taster is gone, too. He didn’t die; I fired him for either looking me in the eyes, using the word “and,” or forgetting to start each sentence with “Madame do you wish that I …” A celebrity can fire anybody for whatever reason they decide and not be thought of as rude—in fact it’s considered to be sort of cute and whimsical.); Bong Bong, my tennis pro; and a group of people who don’t look familiar to me but claim to be my friends.