I'm Not Gaga

I was standing at the counter of my mechanic’s shop the other day. A song was playing on the radio, and then it hit me... I am SO glad I’m not Lady Gaga. Seriously, it must be exhausting being her. Can she ever let her hair down and just chill with her bad self? I seriously doubt it. I’ll bet it’s been years since she woke up on a Saturday morning and decided to hang out in her sweats, or dig in the garden. She always has to be “On”. I can’t imagine constantly having to outdo my own last outfit or creation. When she walks with her entourage, she is in her weird celebrity persona. A lot of the time, she is holding something - glass, wires, some kind of sculpture. Man, I’m getting tired just writing about it. Unlike most people, I don’t think I’ve ever actually wanted to be famous. Rich? Oh ya, I could totally handle that (or would love to try). I can’t imagine having fans, or paparazzi following my every move. Guys hiding in the bushes, telephoto lenses focused on me. Might as well be an animal in the zoo. Maybe that’s why I have always been bothered by zoos. The animals have no privacy, and are constantly on display. I was totally amused the first time I witnessed monkeys at the zoo throwing pooh at people. The monkeys were the ones who were totally in control. They had the crowd in the palms of their hairy little hands. I realized that day who the real dumb animals at the zoo were. The monkeys were the rock stars, and seemed to enjoy it. So, maybe I’m an anomaly. You all can go out and be as famous as you want. I’ll stay behind the scenes and watch your money... in my sweats.