Not too demanding

It’s crazy what “stars” request when they become, well, “stars.”

Their dressing room has to be adorned with drapery, of a certain color, and furniture, of a certain style. There has to be flowers, of a certain type, and all prima donnas need bath towels, of a certain size and, of course, they must be scented.

What’s amazing is those things aren’t necessarily over the top.

Here’s a few that are:

* 7 dressing rooms, each with desired room temperature of 72 degrees. (Jay-Z)

* A three-seat couch, plain color with no busy pattern. (Mariah Carey)

* All lamps must be halogen floor models with dimmer switches. (Paul McCartney)

* Tank of live lobsters to be prepared when hunger strikes. (Paris Hilton)

* Doorknobs disinfected every 2 hours. (Justin Timberlake)

* Escorted to venue in 1957 or 1962 DaimlerChrysler Maybach. (Jay-Z)

* Driver must wear clothing that’s 100 percent cotton. (Kanye West)

* One room strictly for wigs. (Cher)

Some requests are strange:

* A painted rainbow on wheels. (Will Ferrell)

* 7 sets of metal silverware. (Alicia Keys)

* Rose petals floating in the toilet. (Barbara Streisand)

* Flintstones vitamins. (Christina Aguilera)

* Hockey puck from a local hockey team. (Michael Buble)

Some I find funny:

* Cheetos. (Blake Shelton)

* 6 Lunchables snacks. (Eninem)

* 10 bags of Doritos. (Britney Spears)

* 1 box of toothpicks. (Kanye West)

* 3 boxes of Kraft Macaroni & Cheese. (Taylor Swift)

* Coloring books. (Foo Fighters)

All this gets me to wondering what I’d like; what I’d prefer.

I’m all about JIF peanut butter. Creamy, of course, Can’t be anything else. Have I tasted and even put up with consuming other brands? Yes, but enjoying it was another thing.

If I have peanut butter, I have to have crackers. I’m not brand picky here, but make it saltines.

I also enjoy graham crackers.

Pizza, I’ll go with the names of Ralph’s (wish it was still around) and Mary’s. On a side note, any other pizza – even frozen – is doable.

I’m also a Heinz ketchup type of guy. Don’t try and fool me. I can tell the difference. Nothing worse than being handed a packet of some off-brand with your hot dog.

Riding shotgun, anywhere, is a desire. Or even the backseat. Don’t enjoy driving long distances.

If I’m permitted to go nuts, give me a regulation-size indoor basketball court with glass backboards, a rebounding machine (aka, JD) and a cage full of basketballs.

I want someone available to catch baseball/softball with at the drop of a hat.

Seafood? Make it scallops. And Shrimp Scampi. Both never-ending.

I could go on-and-on with food: mom’s baked steak, mom’s baked beans, mom’s stuffing, mom’s gravy, mom’s Special K bars, mom’s pumpkin cookies, mom’s oatmeal cookies.

Oh, and dad’s steaks and burgers on the grill.

Large TV with complete package of stations available would be nice.

Give me bottled water with an assortment of flavor packets – heavy on lemonade.

Clothes and shoes doesn’t excite me, just as long as I have both.

And I can’t forget the buckets of Milk Duds and Reese’s Pieces.

My requests aren’t too off the wall, but now comes the hard part – having these demands met.

Problem is I’ll have to learn to sing, dance or act. Or create a popular reality show.

In the meantime, wonder what’s for dinner?

(Jim Mackey is managing editor of The Review. Reach him at