Please stay with me.

I need you to hold my hand with this one.

Remember Poppy Andy Warhol’s prediction “In the future, everyone will be famous for 15 minutes.”? 

Well the future is now folks, and here is what I am asking, 

How do you know when your 15 minutes are up? 

Mostly I want to know if my small (important) cameo in the classical movie The RM qualified me for retirement from further fame. 

Do I give up now? 

I’m pretty sure I was also included on the mtn network’s coverage of last week’s BYU vs. UTAH STATE game (if you want to call that a game, more like a shell of a game). A camera man repeatedly shoved a camera in my face every time I stood up to participate in “Rise and Shout” also when the tuba played Popcorn Popping. No matter. 

Once I went to a Jazz game and appeared on the JumboTron. I was just dancing in my seat when my face lit up the Delta Center for all to see. At first I was surprised, screamed and then regained my dancing coolness for which I was singled out and exploited. 

Does exploitation make you REALLY famous? 


And one time I was interviewed on the news as a senior in high school because I was involved with the UVSC concurrent program. Yep that’s right. I was wearing a floral scrunchie. 

If I brought back scrunchies in to style I would definitely have my 15 minutes in the briefcase and I’d be forgetting the Samsonite combination! 

I am getting worked up now. 

Let’s bring it down a little. 

I’m mean, let’s be serious. 

Once I visited my 15 minutes swallowing husband on a movie set about pioneers. A lady approached me and asked if I would like to get in to costume and jump in with the other under-paid extras. 

“You have a lovely pioneer face.” She complimented. 


Now that I think about it, 

Is that a compliment? 

In the end it took some contemplation to answer her. I didn’t want to show up my actory husband. I was also thinking of our future children. It would be difficult (and I know this from True Hollywood Stories) for them to have two parents in The Business. So I bowed out. 

Did I give up my 15 minutes? 

Are we born with a reserve of famous 15 minutes and by menopause if it’s not used it up, it will slowly melt away with repetitive hot flashes? 

Or is the 15 minutes located on a gene somewhere? 

Maybe I was born without a Famous 15 Minute gene? 

Are there blood tests for this? 

Is it possibly genetic? 

Because both of my parents are considerably well-known. 

Which brings up a good point. 

What constitutes famous? 

Can your 15 minutes manifest itself in various realms? Say I was popular in high school (just an example) does a secondary school experience count? Or what if I was famous in the ward? Or the ward at the hospital? Or Ward Cleaver? 

Ward Cleaver had a good go at the 15 minutes. 

Wouldn’t you agree? 

Another question. 

Can my 15 minutes be split? 

7 seconds when I am 21 and 

7 seconds when I am 32 

and 1 left-over for when I die? 


Can your 15 minutes be posthumous? 

If I had my way, which I rarely do, I would like to have my famous 15 minutes whilst in the mortal tabernacle of flesh-like clay. Mostly because it would be nice to blow kisses for at least a portion of the 15 minutes. 

Speaking of which, I was once in the exclusive America’s Freedom Festival at Provo Parade. I am pretty sure everyone in Provo saw me. I was hot. 


I meant it was hot. 

Being in that parade. 

Did you really think that I would write “I was hot”? I think you are only entitled to that self-promoting line if you are free and clear sure that your 15 minutes are up and you’ve still got some semblance of confidence.

Something to shoot for folks. 

Well, anyway, if this post gets a lot of comments I might consider meditating to Andy’s ghost and asking him if I could die tomorrow knowing that my 15 minutes were well-lived on the Blog Segullah blog. But if comments were to come in AFTER I died than my 15 minutes would be sort of posthumous. . .ly. 

I am sweating. 


  1. Geo

    September 27, 2006

    You are sweating because you are hot.

    I am thinking now of my most infamous moments, and hoping that my true 15 secocnds will come after menopause (which I also hope is yet a long way off) because maybe by then I’ll know how to maintain my composure in the blinding flash of paparrazi love.

  2. Susan

    September 27, 2006

    What about people who have long ago outlived their 15 seconds but just won’t go away? You know, they kind of overstayed their welcome just a little?

    You, on the other hand, could be famous forever and then some and that would be just fine. Only people I like are allowed to be famous. The rest just annoy me.

    PS-Scrunchies are totally hot.

  3. Maralise

    September 27, 2006

    I don’t even know what to say because I’m laughing so hard. FYI, I stole my roommate’s flower scrunchy my freshmen year just so I could be like you. You see, you were famous. It already happened. Sorry babe, it’s over.

  4. Belle

    September 27, 2006

    Also, this question. When counting the 15 seconds is it important to say Mississippi inbetween each count?

  5. Justine

    September 27, 2006

    I’m thinking famous is as famous does. Your parents are soo totally famous (at least among that really smart crowd that knows how to control traffic patterns and such). I even saw your dad on TV the other day. He was totally acting the way a famous person does. I think you should do like everyone’s parents always tell you to do. If you want to be a certain way, start acting that way.

    Be famous. You decide. I like it… Hang your head out the car window and blow kisses. No one will know if you’re NOT famous, so they’ll assume you ARE.

  6. b.

    September 27, 2006

    Who’s yer dad-dy? Teee-Heee…….snort! No, really…
    You, You get the whole 15 MINUTES, honey. Me? I’m good with just 15 SECONDS. I’m still looking for my bit of fame. Since my menopause was induced surgically, traumatically at a young age….it doesn’t count as a qualifier.
    Banana clips and scrunchies all the way!

  7. c

    September 27, 2006

    Yeah, so is it 15 minutes or 15 seconds?

  8. Justine

    September 27, 2006

    The original quote was 15 minutes. A decade or so later, he was quoted as saying,

    “In the future everyone will be famous for fifteen minutes.” I’m bored with that line. I never use it anymore. My new line is, “In fifteen minutes everybody will be famous.”

  9. Heather B.

    September 27, 2006

    It’s fifteen minutes…. and it’s a big sign that yours are up if your name is Nicole Richie, Kevin Federline, or Anna Nicole whatever. Sadly, though, the names and faces do become graven in our minds (bows out to scrub out brain)

  10. Carina

    September 27, 2006

    True confession? I have never, not once, worn a scrunchie. Not even to be ironic. Chiffon bows? Sure, and in a rainbow of colors. Scrunchie? Sorry.

    Sometimes, when I’m feeling glum, it’s nice to see my dad on TV.

  11. chronicler

    September 27, 2006

    Okay the fame thing must be regional, I have no idea who your parents are…

    So the 15 minutes can be exponential in nature due to the regionality of fame and it fleeting behavior.

    Also fame is categorical. Say like my friend is famous for being an amazing plant pathologist. Say her name in plant circles and people swoon. Mention it around chocolate and they do likewise. However, mention it in a sports connotation and they think of a completely different person.

    I would venture to say your bloggernacle 15 minutes has just begun. The scrunchie version over and done with; And your 15 minutes of hotness could be extended through the use of thermite in correct proportions. 😉

    Me? I don’t want fame. I want fortune. 😀

  12. LuckyRedHen

    September 28, 2006

    I didn’t know your dad was famous until AFTER I told him what I said to your sister (which I have since officially apologized for in writing). Are we supposed to say naughty things to famous people?

    Today I walked into a restaurant and met a friend for lunch. When I walked up to the counter to get our table the guy about fell over himself saying that he didn’t recognize me when I came in and he was so sorry and would get us seated right away. He asked how things were and that he missed me. He missed me (had to say it twice because the next thing is the most important). I don’t think I had ever seen him before in my life; really. But Laurie said, “Yeah, EVERYONE know’s her.” I think that was about 15 seconds so I still have 14 minutes and 45 seconds left to find the rest of my fame.

  13. Dalene

    September 28, 2006

    I was once told I had lovely pioneer hips.

    Well, that’s what I heard anyway, when the owner of a used book store told me I looked like I was made from “good pioneer breeding stock.”

    Fifteen minutes of fame.

    If I could choose, I would pass on the hollywood extra and take a full serving of the kind in which they run out of chairs at your funeral because all the people with whom you connected in some simple but personal way want to come to say good-bye.

  14. Justine

    September 28, 2006

    Should I admit that I wonder if anyone will come to my funeral? Talk about the last hooray for popular people. I recently went to a funeral that was AT LEAST 1,000 people strong. He was one of my very favorite mentors in the world. Apparantly, he was everyone’s mentor. I wonder if I’ve ever even been that wonderful for 5 minutes. So now to figure out how to be that kind of person. So awesom and kind and giving and amazing. He probably didn’t even realize how amazing he was. But famous? I’m not sure that word would fit. Will you guys come to my funeral? I would be willing to cut you into my will, although that might not be any real incentive.

    I’d be willing to give someone my 45 year old sewing machine. Would that make you come?

  15. Angie

    September 28, 2006

    What, scrunchies are out of style? Hmm, I think I’m destined to be famously uncool (That kind of famous must be good for more than 15 minutes, because I’m pretty sure I was just as clueless back in HS, and jr high befoe that).

  16. Maralise

    September 28, 2006

    Justine–throw in the oven, and I’ll come.

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