Stacy London from What Not to Wear – Apparently, she graduated from Vassar with degrees completely unrelated to fashion (philosophy and German Literature), which is pretty kickass considering I’ll probably graduate with an English degree that takes me about as far as this blog. I appreciate her witticisms and sarcastic comments that initially seem like they’d break down an emotionally-brittle contestant even more than they do by themselves, but eventually are just reinterpreted as tough love as they check out their stylish new bods at the end of an episode. I’m also in awe of the confidence it takes a 42-year-old woman to have to rock a Cruella Deville-esque grey streak in her hair, especially one that’s been growing solid for at least 5 years. As previously mentioned, her affinity for high heels is the main reason I believe we’re soul sisters.
Chelsea Handler – I owe this woman my current sense of humor. I’ve read all three of her books, I always abandon academic responsibility to watch Chelsea Lately, and until I found out I’d be studying abroad through the month of June, my 21st birthday plan was to see her perform in DC, get a bottle of Belvedere signed after the show, and proceed to invite her out on the town (I’m still maintaining this option as a solid plan B. Is German beer really that great?). I love her ability to verbally abuse just about anyone that comes in sight, and she lives out my dream of mercilessly making fun of people nobody likes on a nightly basis. Once, when I had to crank out a six-page paper in a matter of ninety minutes, I did a quick read-through of a few of the stories in Are You There Vodka? It’s Me Chelsea and produced the wittiest analysis of Bartleby, the Scrivener I’m pretty sure any English professor had ever seen. I wouldn’t be one of the assholes that go to a taping of Chelsea Lately just to see Chuy, although nubby little chunks do entice me in an interesting way. If there’s any dream of mine, it’s that I’d make it onto Roundtable and actually make her laugh instead of glare at me in disgust. Although that would be awesome too.
Hayden Panettiere – This is my girl crush. I’m as straight as a pin in a flatiron factory, but who can deny the cute little girl from Remember the Titans who never went through an awkward phase and despite making an embarrassing leading appearance in Bring it On: All or Nothing still makes bank as a Neutrogena girl. She is the Regina George to my frizzy-haired chubby dork: She is flawless. She could punch me in the face, and it WOULD be awesome. Whenever I need a new hairdo, I immediately Google her for inspiration, convincing myself that any way she styles her hair will automatically look good on me because we look sorta kinda similar (my admiration for her has made me slightly delusional. Let it happen). I understand she’s no Meryl Streep as far as acting goes, and her brief stint as Paris Hilton's BFF-du-jour was slightly off-putting, but the bottom line is that the girl’s hot and I want to be her. Period.
Christina Aguilera – Saved the best for last. Anyone that knows me knows the undying obsession I have with Xtina. I wholeheartedly supported her through the slutty Stripped phase, even when she dyed the hair black and got a little chubs. Ain’t no thang, girl can sang. A better part of my Favorite YouTube videos belong to her, and I study them so religiously that I’ve actually incorporated her signature head pops and microphone fondling into my everyday activities. When I was 9 and the video for “Come on Over” came out, in which she wears a pair of lace-up, blue-and-white diamond-printed pants, I was in love, and to this day I search for an identical pair to rock around campus. Any roommate I’ve ever had has definitely heard me practice my (ahem) spot-on renditions of “Impossible,” “I Turn to You,” and “Save Me From Myself” in the shower, and should I ever live out my dream of becoming a karaoke star, my set list will also include “The Voice Within,” “You Lost Me,” and strictly her section from “Lady Marmalade.” There is absolutely nothing about the woman that I don’t adore, and if I ever meet her I’m pretty sure – in no particular order – I’ll cry, faint, scream jibberish, and have a stroke. God Bless You, Ms. Aguilera. Screw you, Britney.
Now I know that this list seems short and shallow, and to be considered a more forward-thinking woman in society I probably should’ve included someone like Michelle Obama or Oprah or perhaps even God herself, but that would be misleading. I’d love to shake hands with those women, say “thank you” or “congratulations on being awesome,” but the four people included here could be my Sex and the City crew. I actually want to hang out with them. Sure, I’d be willing to fake friendship with Oprah just to get a show on the OWN Network and maybe get some student loans taken care of, but at the end of the day, do I really want to chill with a one-upper who constantly downplays my personal achievements, such as the fact that I finally figured out that exercise is not spelled with a Z? The benefits of this list are neverending: not only are these girlfraaans cool as hell, but I’d have a personal stylist, a straight-talking advice-giver, someone to introduce me to Milo Ventimiglia, and a diva to sing me to sleep every night.
Would meeting President Obama and having hardcore political discussions be the highlight of my life? Absolutely not. Do I want an invite to the Grammy’s/Oscar’s/Emmy’s/Fashion Week? You know it, girl.
