When I Tried To Get On Cameo

 

To Whom It May Concern At Cameo,

I'm writing to report of a great injustice.

I recently submitted myself as a celebrity who is willing to lower myself to doing Cameos in order to make a little extra money to purchase a nearby farm and turn it into a pug-themed amusement park called either Pug-topia or Pug Junction.

After filling out the form, despite me making it clear that I was offer only, and waiting far too long, I received an email from you informing me that I am, apparently not a celebrity.

First of all, excuse you.

Second of all, if I were to play devil's advocate (you being the Devil), and label myself a "non-celebrity" then I might be inclined to go through your roster of what I assume you call "official celebrities" and see if I believe I am beneath them in terms of notoriety.

And if I were to do that, I would be shocked to see that you believe I am somehow below some of, forgive me, the most insufferable human beings on earth.

Every human being who has ever been on television is on your platform.

All the Mom's--

Octo-Mom

Tan Mom

Teen Moms (All of Them)

According to you, these people merely saying your name or wishing you a happy birthday is worth money.

Not Canadian money.

Not euros.

Real money.

If I am understanding this correctly, you think that somebody out there is willing to pay to have Jane Leeves wish them a happy anniversary.

Now, you may be right.

There be Frasier fans out there who would get a real kick out of hearing Leeves, in full Daphne accent, say "Oooooooohhhh forty years married, Tony and Anne Paglione! Me Ma used to say, 'A marriage is like a bath. Once you relax, you always end up staying in it too long.'"

And, you might say, that there isn't anybody out there who would want a message from me.

And how wrong you would be.

Because while all your "official celebrities" are offering birthday greetings and Congratulations, I am willing to go the extra mile.

I am willing to tell people who are clearly wrong about something that they are, in fact, right.

No matter who they are or what they're saying, if the check clears, I will tell them they're right on the money.

They want to get married after only knowing someone for two hours and a few Chili's apps?

Sounds great.

They want to quit their job and take up the tuba?

Love that for them.

They think gay people are poisoning the water supply in their town?

I'll lean in close and whisper into the camera "We are. Get a better filter."

Do I have an Oscar?

I do not.

Was I ever married to an Osmond?

I'm not sure.

Have I been on network television?

Yes. I was on a moderately well-rated episode of a game show I'm pretty sure is now cancelled.

But the point is, if Octo-Mom is unwilling to tell a teenager that high school is pointless and they should hitchhike to Alaska, I will upcharge that juvenile and I will encourage all their stupidest dreams.

I look forward to you remedying this situation as soon as possible, and I will go ahead and reject your formal apology now, because this suggestion that I am somehow "not famous" has brought me right back to last week when I walked into a Starbucks and nobody gasped at how good my hair looked.

While you are crafting that apology, please let me know what the maximum amount I can charge is, because if I'm going to go around telling people that going to grad school is a good idea, it's definitely going to cost more than having Joy Behar wish someone all the best on their colonoscopy.

Sincerely,

Don't Act Like You Don't Know Who I Am