Single page view By The Intern
Page 2 -- Other than the obscene money, beautiful women, and MTV Rock N' Jock invites, nothing makes me wish I was a major celebrity more than the awards show gift bags. But what's amazing is that most of this stuff is probably pocket change for these people, either ignored entirely or absent-mindedly handed over to assistants. But if I got my hands on one of these, it would be all over -- pretending to give away items then yelling out "Psych!," putting my friends through elaborate obstacle courses with expensive gift certificates on the line, unique tips to the valet -- nothing would be out of bounds. -- Simmons may need to find a new high-fiving sidekick at Clipper games ... (Ben D.) -- A riveting rendition of "Rocketman" by Captain Kirk. What's great about this is that, if anyone else, you could be certain of the playful nature involved. But with Shatner, it's entirely plausible that he was dead serious and followed this up by proudly strutting off-stage, doing mock gun-shots at everyone, and calling his agent for news of album deals. At least that's how I want to believe this went down. -- This reads more like a short novel than an article, but it's an entertaining take on the barrage of truly nutty celebrities, including the psychological reasoning for celebrities' narcissistic tendencies, the overbearing paparazzi presence, back-stabbing publicists, etc. Almost makes me second-guess my gift bag envy. -- Once Hank Gathers and Reggie Lewis get mentioned, I think it's safe to say that the jokes about Eddy Curry's lack of heart are over. Also, nothing to remind you that the game is also a business more than having your heart qualify for a specialized insurance exemption.

So I'm hanging out at a particular location this past weekend, one which just happens to be the same place that some friends of mine from law school are socializing at with their summer firm. One of the partners from this undisclosed firm is apparently buying drinks for everyone, to which one of my law school friends, being the sharing type, decides that my choice to surf the internet for the summer shouldn't prevent me from enjoying such marvelous perks. In an act that would make Robin Hood proud, she drags me over to the table right as a round of shots comes in, calmly acts as if nothing is going on and hands me one. I toast with everyone else, down my shot, and join the conversation.

Maybe two minutes later, law firm partner finally notices me and goes, "Wait, who's this guy? Did he take a shot?" Unfazed, I make a random comment about what a beautiful night it is or something and continue my conversation. Law firm partner repeats, "No, seriously, WHO IS THIS GUY?!!" I consider tossing a hundy at him while confidently proclaiming, "The Intern could buy and sell you," but upon seeing that my wallet is in fact empty as usual, instead elect to make confusing hand gestures while suavely retreating to my original table. That firm never gave me an interview anyway.



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