DAY 31: Getting a publicist to make all my decisions

Stacey has your Best Interests At Heart.

JEEZ, I’ve made some bad decisions in my time. From the incident with the Sunday supplements, to the run-in with the shopping trolley, to the balls-up with that arseclown… I just seem to get ‘instinct’ muddled up with ‘impulse’.

Stacey is a publicist, therefore it’s her job to know what people should do, more than they could possibly know themselves.  Today, she’s going to run my life for me.

DO NOT STITCH ME UP! I thunder.
Sickness! she replies.

Here are her choices – and the outcomes.

What shall I have for lunch?
Today you will eat ice cream sundae for lunch. And take a picture of it….it MUST have a cherry on top with whipped cream.
Melbourne’s not quite as chi-chi as Sydney, so Stacey fails to realise her suggestion is an unreasonable one. I am forced to buy a McFlurry from McDonalds and decorate it myself with a banana and some blueberries.
 
What will I do in the office today to make people happy?
I think a very large box of chocolates that can be shared around……..an afternoon full of good tunes, a cheese platter and wine for a little afternoon social event, or an office plant. I don’t know these people so it’s hard to know what would make them happy.
I’m that person who always sidles up during the last few notes of Happy Birthday, grabs a piece of cake and skulks back to their desk like Gollum with his precious hoard. Now I realise how gratifying it is to be the bearer of cake and give people a brief brain-spike of sugar love for no reason whatsoever.

Who shall I write a card/letter/email to?
You can write to your seventh grade English teacher………tell them why you hated / liked their class.  
I’ve always felt bad my seventh grade English teacher copped it. He was the only teacher that reached out, and he got his hands slapped smartly back for his efforts, as I roadtested my Traci-Lords-in-Crybaby staredown. Little did he know he was supposed to try harder. I’ll come back to this one… if I can remember his name.
 
What will I talk about during my date tonight?
You will talk about neuro plasticity and how scientists now realise that the brain is not actually a machine like organ, they have discovered it is plastic and can change and mutate at will to make up for any of its failings or injuries. And it will be fucking fascinating.
I owned up to this challenge, and he told ME all about neuroplasticity.

No, try again.
You can talk about how the Chief Minister of Dehli is called Sheila Dickshit…..but no one seems to make fun of it….is it because people are no longer funny or because we have politically corrected all the funniness out of life because it can be seen as being mean. Then you can talk about fake tan, and if that gorgeous orange glow is more attractive to men than a pale, untanned skin.

Shall I wear the Tralala-in-Last-Exit-to-Brooklyn dress, or the NY-door-bitch dress?
You shall wear which ever one makes you feel most comfortable at the time of trying them on. If you are comfortable you will be irresistible.
It turned out they were both ‘you’re not going out wearing that’ dresses, but I just accepted the fact I would not be able to ascend any stairs in front of anybody.