The I and the Me of fame I want to be a star. I want to be adored. I want to see and hear the screams of my fans and the roar of an ecstatic applause. I want my name in neon lights and my handprints on the Hollywood Boulevard. I want money. I want lots of money. I want a heavenly mansion in Beverley Hills and a string of servants to pay my bills. I want wealth. I want to land a helicopter on my luscious lawn. I want sex. I want drug and alcohol excess. I want boys and girls and I want boys and girls to want me. I want a size 8 supermodel in my heart-shaped swimming pool. Give me luxury leather.