I’m reading (ok, who am I kidding, I’m RE-reading) “What Would Audrey Do?: Timeless Lessons for Living with Grace and Style” (Pamela Keogh) and I’ve come to realize that I am, sadly, THE EXACT FUCKING OPPOSITE of my dear Audrey Hepburn.First, Audrey didn’t curse. I know, what the fuck. How can a celebrity go without cursing? Even Eliza Doolittle was like, “MOVE YER BLOOMIN’ ARSE!” Personally, I can’t go more than 5 minutes without cursing, even if all I’m doing in those 5 minutes is singing the theme song to Sesame Street. I like cursing! Sunny days, fuck yeah! Chasin’ those clouds away, motherfucker!

Second, Audrey didn’t blog about her sex life on the internet. Yeah I know she didn’t have the fucking (see???) internet back then. But Keogh suggests that Audrey would not have a myspace page. Audrey was discreet, like fucking Lady from Lady and the Tramp who was totally coy about wanting that meatball, she was all like, “Oh no, you take it, really I’m fine.” Audrey was a private person. In a way I think we’re worse off for not knowning what Audrey Hepburn was like in bed, aren’t we? Someone somewhere HAS to know! Somewhere there has to be a stack of letters she wrote to William Holden that describe their passionately discreet nights of love. Someone find those letters and publish them, please.

Third, Audrey had little to no ego. (According to Keogh, Audrey pretty much died for somebody’s sins, but not mine.) Keogh fails to mention how in one biography I read, Audrey requested an ASSLOAD of stuff to come with her while shooting “A Nun’s Story”, including a bidet. Excuse me? You really need a bidet to be flown to you? I digress. Not only am I selfish but I am a raging egomaniac.

Fourth, Audrey was damn thin. Enough said.

Fifth, Audrey always took the high road. I couldn’t find the high road with google maps. I try, really. So instead of shouting or saying something I’ll regret, I’ll just leave. And this backfires because I wind up looking like a huge bitch. AUDREY HEPBURN WAS NEVER A BITCH.

To paraphrase Samuel L. Jackson, “I’m tryin’ Ringo. I’m tryin’ real hard to be the shepherd.”

I’m tryin’ real hard to be Audrey.

I want to be the sweet, THIN, modern woman who can keep her ego in check and not flip the fuck out over every damn thing. And also Keogh makes it crystal clear that every goddamn man Audrey met wanted to marry her. Did you know that Audrey dated JFK? WELL SHE DID. Who have you dated? That guy who works at Diesel? The Cobrasnake? The indie rock musician who kind of looks like Johnny Depp if you squint? NONE OF THOSE MEN ARE JFK. YOU FUCKING LOSE. GODDAMN YOU AUDREY HEPBURN. Keogh also famously quotes the dancer who, in a chorus line with Audrey before she hit superstardom complained, “I’ve got the best tits on stage and yet they’re staring at the girl who hasn’t got any.” Hepburn was sexy and she had no boobs. I mean in this day and age she would be given some kind of award for that shit, some InStyle luncheon or VH1 clipshow tribute or I don’t know.

I know I have more sex appeal on the tip of my nose than many women in their entire bodies. It doesn’t stand out a mile, but it’s there. — Audrey Hepburn

How did she do it? This book suggests that I attempt sainthood. And you know what? I’m going to. Because although BB is one of my true old school heroes (uh, before the whole racism thing) she and Audrey actually held very similar ideals: if something’s not working out for you — be it with a man or your career or friends or whatever — leave, because you’re better than that shit. Of course, Audrey wouldn’t have said “Shit”. BB probably would have said, “Merde” so that makes me feel a little better.

From now on I shall attempt not to dive over to my computer to blog about every little thing. I shall try to be more discreet. I shall try to be kinder and more patient. I shall try to get a 22 inch waistline. I shall try to hold my head high even though my neck is like 1/5th of the neck she had. I won’t stop being msyelf but maybe I’ll be just a little less of myself. And a little more Audrey.

Or, whatever.