Are you a pop culture junkie?  Even just a little bit?  If you’ve read more than oh, two of these entries, then likely you suspect that I might be.  Just the teensiest bit though.  I have to dose myself, like a slow drip, careful not to overdose, on too much celebrity gossip.  Everyday, it’s another kind of train wreck, make up, break up, marriage, divorce, adoption, baby, and the like.

And I like it.  There.  Admitting it is the first step, right?  I like it so much that I almost even love it.  But like most good and yummy things, in large doses, it can kind of make you feel a little sick.  Even just a tiny bit.  So, to prove to myself, that I’m not in full blown ‘addiction’, I cleanse on occasion.  I impose my own oddball celebrity rehab on myself, going cold turkey for a week or two,  just to prove I can do it, which I can.  If I want to.  I can easily exist without knowing how Brittany’s comeback is shaping up, how Lindsay and Samantha are doing, when George Clooney might abandon his beloved single life, in favor of his soulmate, wherever she is. I wonder though, how poor Benji is doing without Paris,  but I know deep down that he’ll be just fine, especially with Nichole and his twin bro Joel at his side.

Is anybody with me?  Did I say too much?  Do you feel kind of icky inside, wondering about the daily mechanics of celebrity living?  Come on, admit it.  You want to know if Jen and John will stay together as much as I do!  And Madonna and A Rod?  For real, or show?  Will they, or won’t they?  Do they, or don’t they?

Only their publicists know for sure.  And maybe their managers, and surely their attorneys.  Of course their nannies and housekeepers know, but they are sworn to secrecy, bound to iron clad confidentiality agreements.  Darn.  Just tell us people!  We won’t tell anyone - swear!  Pinky swear!

This is clearly a weakness, but I know I’m not the only one.  Think of the billions in TV, magazine, and online revenue generated simply because of the public preoccupation with celebrity consumption.  Everyday, and every night, and especially on weekends, when the fast crown jets to Vegas.

As weaknesses go, surely there are worse.  I could be a shopaholic, a foodaholic, a shoe aholic (?) and any other of the garden variety ‘aholics’ that exist.  Given this, I forgive myself this rather pedestrian, even tame and mundane ‘addiction..’

I guess moderation is the thing here.  Maybe the dose of celebrity gossip at the nail salon should be considered enough.  Perhaps the recap on the morning radio show on the way to the gym could rank in healthy realm also. 

Fair enough.  I can live with that.  Unless something super major happens.  Then all bets are off.  I’m off the wagon til the next time. Swear.

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