The Burden Of Being Related To Jerry O’Connell


Last week, I was talking to my friend, who happens to be a Kennedy, about the burden of growing up in a famous family. She told me that being a Kennedy was difficult because you have the family curse, the involvement with politics, the checkered past, and the obscene wealth. I knew exactly where she was coming from because, I too, know the hardships of having a powerful name. Look, I know you’ve been wondering about this for quite some time. The suspense must be killing you so here it goes: My cousin is Jerry O’Connell. Yes, the Jerry O’Connell— beloved star of Tomcats, Body Shots and Scream 2. The world famous superstar is my cousin.

Growing up as an O’Connell, I felt like I was put on a pedestal. People would whisper every time I came into the room of a party. I knew what they were saying about me and it wasn’t fair. They would hiss over their martini glasses “He’s an O’Connell. He and Jerry grew up together! He seems so stuck-up! He must’ve had everything handed to him when he was growing up!” Admittedly, when I was younger, I would get caught up in the fame. Whenever I would go to a fancy restaurant, I would just drop my last name and immediately be escorted a table. “Anything for the star of Joe’s Apartment‘s cousin,” they would tell me. I also would never have to wait in line at the clubs. People saw me and they just knew to let me through. Tara Reid, a co-star in one of Jerry’s films, became a close personal friend for a period of time as well. For a moment, I was running with a very powerful crowd.

People used me to get closer to Jerry. They thought I didn’t know about their hidden agenda but I knew exactly what they were doing. Male models would sleep with me just so they could experience a part of him. They would even accidentally call me Jerry during sex. It hurt.

I finally hit rock bottom after watching a Jerry O’Connell movie marathon in which Piranha 3-D and Obsessed were played back-to-back. Confused and disoriented, I swallowed a bottle of pills and wrote a suicide note that said, “Couldn’t be an O’Connell anymore. Needed to be just me…” Unfortunately, I didn’t die. In fact,  it was Jerry O’Connell who found my lifeless body and saved me, putting us both on the front page news. I was thrust back into the spotlight again for my famous cousin, which was the last thing I wanted. Damn you, Jerry.

Being an O’Connell is way harder than being a Kennedy. People just expect things from you, you know? You have to be on the constant lookout for people who could be using you for your connection to late ’90s/early ’00s nostalgia. I’m writing this to tell everyone to back off and love me for me. I can’t handle living under a microscope any longer.

***** I am not related to Jerry O’Connell.

***** This is a joke.

***** The post, I mean. I’m seriously not related to him. Please don’t sue me, Jerry. I think you’re hot and I’m glad we aren’t related, ya dig?

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image – Body Shots