Rich man’s blogger

Craig’s List is a repository of great writing gigs. This one topped all:

An honest-to-god real Craig's List advert.

An honest-to-god real Craig's List advert.

There’s a part of me that wants to be understanding. Some impossibly loaded socialite somewhere in the Hamptons desperately longs for someone to empathize. I imagine myself, as the blog writer, nodding compassionately, like the cool parent on a 1980’s sitcom, saying, “Yes, dear. I understand. Wealth has problems. Nobody understands the footfalls of the dramatically more fortunate, nor appreciate the entrapments of too many resources. Why don’t we have the chauffeur drive us around the block until you feel better?”

"Jennifer, Alex would like to ask you exactly why you think being wealthy makes you miserable." Image courtesy of "Family Ties."

"Jennifer, Alex would like to ask you exactly why you think being wealthy makes you miserable." Image courtesy of "Family Ties."

But who am I kidding? I'm a writer. There's no way I even remotely pass for wealth. I'm lucky to eat regularly. In fact, the past year, finally realized I'm not so financially strapped that I can splurge for a roll of paper towels.

However.

My thrill-seeker side wants to just dummy up and submit a couple of bogus I’m so horribly wealthy and miserable posts, relying on right-brained belligerency to attempt faking the wealth gene. Then sit back and see if editors believe me. Frankly, the biggest “she’s-not-one-of-us” tip-off would be willingly accepting the $90 per week. I can't imagine Paris Hilton selling herself for so little.

Hmm ... it's a stretch. Work with me, people. Image courtesy of Miss Fipi Lele.

Hmm ... it's a stretch. Work with me, people. Image courtesy of Miss Fipi Lele.

Getting accepted as a weekly blogger would mean conveniently forgetting my 20s. Fearing turning on the heat in winter. Getting sick without the benefit of health insurance. Lacking funds for both acne medication and makeup to cover up my blotches. Then overhearing my manager's swagger about hiring “another pimply-faced kid” to cut costs. Those little things.

I'm starting to flinch a little.

Anyway. Here are my top 10 fantasy pitches for the fabulously wealthy support blog:

  1. When manicures go wrong.
  2. Handbags and toy dogs.
  3. Tipping—just for bleeding heart liberals?
  4. I bribed the police. Why do I feel guilty?
  5. Spicing up a French Riviera vacation.
  6. When the help can't park your Mercedes worth beans.
  7. Getting paparazzi to photograph your good side.
  8. Driving down a kidnapper’s demands ... but is it worth getting your heir back?
  9. Convincing Daddy to open the trust fund early ... hoping he doesn't read number 8.
  10. Attracted to your pool boy. Again.