@GabbySidibe
Look. I don’t care for dinosaurs. If I can’t ride one, what do I care what lived billions of years ago? You didn’t even know it had feathers until like three years ago! Mind ya business, stupid!
(Look, I know I’m in the minority here, but I really hate dinosaurs. I hate them. Maybe hating them is how I process my fear that one day they’ll come back somehow. I couldn’t sit through Jurassic Park. I’m so grateful that we don’t have to live beside those giant monsters. But how can we be sure that some evil scientist with plans to rule the world won’t bring dinosaurs back into existence? What will we do then, society?!)
Gabby SidiBae
@GabbySidibe
I’m starting to think that the only way I can lose weight is by running over an old Gypsy woman with my car so that her dad can put a curse on me. I’ll gladly take that curse even if I didn’t get to hit someone with my car for it!
(I was watching that Stephen King movie Thinner, including its questionable Gypsy-woman scene, and thought, Shit . . . this lawyer’s starting to look really good, but then it went too far.)
Gabby SidiBae
@GabbySidibe
Keep tweeting me to ask if I’m alive and I’ll prove that I’m alive by blocking people dumb enough to tweet me to see if I’m alive. #TestMe
(I might actually tweet this before this day is over.)
There! You read them and you’re still alive! It wasn’t that bad! What’s great is that I have plenty of followers who do get my jokes and think I’m funny. Clearly, those people are my favorites. Plenty of people hate me, though. Plenty of people tweet me to hurt my feelings, and I used to get really upset about it. I would start angrily typing out a response to them and then I’d think, No! That’s what they want you to do! That person wants my attention. My attention will tell them that they exist and that they matter to me. If I say nothing, they’ll stay a ghost and have to float on to find someone else to verify their existence. But most times I still really want to respond. So I block the mean commenters. I disable myself from answering them. Sure, a lot of people take pride in being blocked. They see that I have noticed them, but that’s okay. I don’t have to see them rejoicing in whatever they get from having me block them. Honestly, I block people all the time. And I’ll admit, I do it for small, petty reasons. I block people who are mean to me, to my friends, or to my other followers. I block people who nastily tell me to lose weight. I block people who tell me that they love me but that they want to see me lose weight and live a healthier life. Those people have no idea how hard I’m fighting for my life every day of it. I block people who say they don’t like my outfits. I block people who don’t like my hair. I block people who tweet that they don’t like my blonde hair on Empire. Hi! Empire is a TV show! I didn’t get to choose my character’s hair color, but it’s my job to wear it. I can’t do anything about it. You can do even less about it cuz ya blocked! Oh! You think I shouldn’t wear red? I LOVE wearing red! Don’t worry. You won’t see me wear red cuz YA BLOCKED! Okay, honestly, I could probably chill and take a step back to keep my blocking finger from being so itchy. I’m aware that I run my social-media pages like Stalin. But I’m very sensitive, and at the same time (like Stalin), I’ve ended up with a job and a life that means I have followers. It’s weird, but I do. I don’t control much, but I control what I can. I prefer for my world to smell like strawberries and look like rainbows, and at least on Twitter I can block negative comments, fighting, and opinions about what I should be doing in my life. I am compulsive about keeping those dark clouds out of my world. Choose your tweets wisely.
P.S.: When I do die, don’t let Lifetime do a movie about my life.
10
Gabourey, But You Can Call Me Gabby
The world’s gonna know your name.
What’s your name, man?
—Aaron Burr (Hamilton)
BACK WHEN I WAS WAITING for my real life as an actress and all-around dope celebrity to start, I would wake up every day to do nothing but wait for Lee Daniels to call me. He called to tell me huge news like when Push (as Precious was still called then) was submitted to the Sundance Film Festival for its debut. Sometimes he’d call to give practical advice like what I should wear to the premiere and for interviews. He’d tell me that I should start watching Halle Berry in her interviews so I could emulate her. She was ladylike and I, apparently, was not. I promised I would watch her, but I knew I was lying when I said it. Again, I’m not polite enough to pretend to be someone else for long. Other times he’d just call to fantasize with me about what life would be like after the movie was released officially.
“Gabbala! Are you ready? Are you ready!? Your life is going to be completely different! What are you going to do?”
“What am I going to do about what?” I’d ask.
“What are you going to do when people come up to you in the street, and say, ‘Precious, you changed my life.’”
“What? No one’s gonna do that!” I was sure of it.
“Yes, they will! They will come right up to you and tell you about all of the pain and abuse they’ve suffered the way Precious has. A lot of people will identify with her and will identify with you. What are you going to say to people who see themselves in Precious and in you?”
“That’s crazy!” I was beginning to feel nauseated. Maybe I should figure out how Halle Berry deals with that.
“Get ready, Gabby. You’re going to be more than just a regular person now. You’re going to be Precious.”
“Well . . . shit . . . I hadn’t thought of it. I guess I’ll start by saying, ‘My name is Gabby.’”
“You can’t say that! Your name is Precious now!” he exclaimed.
“What? Is that rude? Cuz . . . I really love my name.”
“Well, get ready, bitch!” Lee said, laughing.