Monday, April 30, 2007

My Secret Life as Celine Dion


Bert Bananas said...
I was thinking about you and it suddenly came to me! I mean, all the clues were there! The hipness, the carefully cropped photo, the sly allusions... I know who you are!!
I know you can't admit it, so I won't, you know, go on and on about it and I'll pretend to accept your denial..., but it's probably a load off your mind that someone finally 'gets' you, Celine Dion!

P.S., I only have your 'collected hits' CD.

Mr. Bananas, you see right through me.

Oui. I AM Celine Dion. Your powers of deduction are très bon! I was being so careful to hide my true self, so committed to staying in the character of Katrocket, that I dared to repeatedly insult my beloved Québec, and I even encouraged strangers to hate themselves for listening to my music! Such terrible, terrible things I did. Je suis désolé, mes petits choux.

Please understand that even wealthy international superstars need an escape from our exciting, charm-filled lives! The stress of being so fabulous all the time can be unbéarable! You know, Rrrénée likes his porno sites, but I prefer to unwind with Rocketradio. It keeps me real. (I'm thumping my chest right now, just so you can feel this moment with me. Did you feel it? Je t'adore!)

Ok now that my secret superdiva identity is revealed, I can tell you to go see my new movie, Oceans 13 avec George Clooney and all his handsome little friends. I have a cameo! Guess who I'm playing!!


pistols at dawn said...

Finally I understand my reasons for disliking you despite your clear talent. I had always imagined you to be Vancouver Canucks center Trevor Linden.

Secondly, is Quebec an abandoned frontier whose supply lines have been cut? Because it appears that you have not eaten in many winters.

katrocket said...

Oh Pistols, you have diminished my will to live with this crazy talk of "disliking" me. No matter, jerk. My heart will go on.

PS - I haven't lived in Quebec since I won the Eurovision song contest in 1988 (au revior, frogrock!), so my diet is strictly "superstar": Rrrrénée's love, Triscuits and Evian water.

Bert Bananas said...

Can I get tickets? Please?

pistols at dawn said...

Cel (what they call you in "le rues" in America):

I naturally only informed you that I disliked you in order to make myself more appealing to you. I read a book where that was the recommended path to take with women. My mistake, of course, was thinking that any nerd who wrote a book could ever be appealing to women.

I must admit that I am not a large fan of your music, however. This is actually a good thing for you, because most of the bands I like sell so few albums that they are forced to take demeaning day jobs at Electronics Boutiques and the like.

We do both love Triscuits, though, and I feel that this is the single most important thing that two people can have in common. Oh, and we both love your millions of dollars. We can work this out.

katrocket said...

Mr. Bananas: I cannot even get tickets to my own stellar performances! My awesome dance moves are a sell-out sensation! But ring me up if you're ever in Vegas - I could use a good curb-painting, if you know what I mean.

Pistols: It gives me immense pleasure to watch you backpaddle in the vast ocean of my Frenchified millions. Je vous pardonne, mon ami.

pistols at dawn said...

I have an amazing amount of skill at turning something offensive I have said to a lady into something ridiculous and slightly less offensive. It's my gift - a gift that usually gets returned.

Bert Bananas said...

I told my wife that Celine Dion reads my blog and that I read hers. She didn't believe so I showed her your photo. Now she's calling all her friends and bragging. It's all very exciting!

pistols at dawn said...

I told my wife that I know Celine Dion, and she didn't react at all. Then I remembered that she doesn't exist. My wife, that is, not Celine - though I've never seen her in the flesh, so maybe she's a myth, like Zeus, or a white cornerback.

Then I was a little sad.

Then I drank a little.

Then I was happy, because I didn't have some damn wife nagging me about drinking and/or stealing any of my sweet Kentucky white lightning. She'd confront me, "Me or the 'shine - you've got to choose," and she'd be none too pleased with the results. I'd be in the bag while she'd be packing hers.

Maybe I did get married and just blacked out for most of it. Come to think of it, how'd I get this ring on my finger? Oh, that's right, graverobbing.

pistols at dawn said...

I am so pleased with myself for that comment that I wanted to congratulate myself.

Well done, me.

If scientists ever clone human beings, let's be first in line so we can finally make out with each other.

Now me, don't get fresh.

Sorry, me.

katrocket said...

Bert: I am indeed honoured to bring so much joy to your home.

Pistols: très bon - gold stars for you today!

pistols at dawn said...

As they say in Paris, muchas gracias, Celine. And until that cloning line forms, I'll keep you in mind as a making-out-with-myself substitute, as long as Rene's still too old and fat to chase me more than two steps.

Bert Bananas said...

I shot a nice tidy 79 this morning. The guys could tell that I had something special going for me. No way was I going cheapen what we have by telling them about you. Instead, when asked how I was so "up," I archly said, "Oh, I guess I have a bit of that je n'ais se qua..." and giggled and thumped my chest, pretending that I was coughing.

katrocket said...

O Bert: even golf becomes rosier in the glow of our secret love.

Pistols: It is such an honour to be listed second (behind you) on your fantasy make-out list.