I need to write a post I don’t have to think too much about today. I’ve been picking up extra hours at my part-time job and will be for the foreseeable future, so I am TIRED, yo. Today was nine hours of craziness. It wouldn’t have been too bad, except all of our computers randomly stopped working for about a two-hour stretch. It was not the most fun. First one system would go down, then another, then our whole office in another state (we have a couple distance offices) went down for a little while, then ANOTHER system would go down, and we kind of got to the point where we were irrationally giggling because what the hell else are you going to do? Luckily, I work with some of the most kickass people in all the land there, so we keep each other sane. Thank you, my wonderful coworkers! You are awesome and I love you. Thank you for not losing your shit when you could easily have done so today.
So, anyway, I decided, what does one do when you need to turn your brain off a little? I have a few hours, then I have to go to bed so I can get up early and do it all over again tomorrow. And, of COURSE, the answer is, CELEBRITY NEWS! What, you don’t look at celebrity news when you want to turn your brain off? You’re a liar, of course you do. OK, maybe SOME of you don’t. I can’t speak for all of you. I think I know at least two of you who don’t care the least little bit about such things.
I actually don’t look at much celebrity news, because there’s very little of it I care about. You know what I don’t care about? Those sparkly-vampire people and who cheated on who (whom? there’s probably supposed to be a whom in there, yeah? I suck at who and whom, don’t even correct me, I don’t care) and who’s sad and who’s moved out and who’s living with Reese Witherspoon while he gets over his bad bad breakup.
BORED NOW.
DO NOT CARE. You silly sparkly-vampire people. Cheat, don’t cheat, whatever, you’re in your early twenties or something, right? When my friends and I were in our early twenties, we were fooling around with anything with a pulse. If that person was in a relationship with someone else, well, that was unfortunate. We also drank a lot. This could explain the whoriness. I can’t even imagine if I was all over the tabloids when I was that age. It would be SO EMBARRASSING. It’d be all walk-of-shamey and makeup all running down my face and vomiting in cabs. Watch out, Lindsay Lohan and Kim Kardashian. (Also, this is a very good example of people GROWING UP and not acting like assholes when they mature. Well, I still sometimes act like an asshole, just not as publicly.)
But sometimes I can’t help but look at celebrity news. Here are examples of things I can’t help but look at:
- dead people (especially if they were on Celebrity Rehab, shut up, I am a moth to the flame of that damn show)
- celebrities I like (which are varied and I can’t even explain my attraction)
- celebrities who are acting like total loonies (I’m looking at YOU, Cruise, also YOU, sugar-tits Gibson)
- celebrities who wear really wacky clothing and think it’s normal (I’m still totally charmed by everything Bjork does)
- casting news of almost every book adaptation
And that’s pretty much it. I don’t care about much else. Mostly it bores me. I assume this means I’m broken, because from the number of TMZ-style websites and People-style magazines people LURVE the celebrity news.
Anyway, as long as it falls under one of the categories above, when I’m in a “blergh I need news where I don’t want to THINK” I read some celebrity news. So today, lets’ talk about celebrity news. I promise I’ll try to make it somewhat entertaining. WHAT I SAID I’LL TRY.
First: Lance Armstrong. No, he doesn’t fall under any of the categories above. This one’s an Amy’s-dad story.
Dad: DID YOU HEAR WHAT HAPPENED?
Me: Lots of things happened. Which one are we shouty about?
Dad: Lance. They did it. THEY DID IT.
Me: Lance…Bass? I don’t know what we’re talking about right now.
Are you at all embarrassed this is the first Lance that came to mind when Dad said “Lance?” I am, a little. Shush. Bye, bye, bye.
Dad: YOU ARE UNEMPLOYED.
Me: Yes. Thank you for reinforcing that.
Dad: As an unemployed person, you could watch the news ALL DAY LONG.
Me: Could. Don’t. What Lance are we talking about?
Dad: ARMSTRONG.
Me: Oh, him. OK. What’d they do?
Dad: He stopped fighting the charges. They’re trying to take away his medals.
Me: OK, wait, I’m looking this up now.
Dad: You should already KNOW this.
Me: I was busy today.
Dad: Doing what?
Me: Stuff. LOTS OF STUFF. OK, this says he’s not allowed to cycle anymore, and also they’re definitely taking this medals away. Hee! He can’t cycle anymore. He’s WALKING from now on. EVERYWHERE.
No more medals. Dad does not approve.
Dad: THIS IS NOT A LAUGHING MATTER. THE BASTARDS. You know whose fault this is.
Me: The government?
Dad: Yes. He didn’t do DRUGS. Only LOSERS do drugs.
Me: OK. I don’t know enough about this to make any decisions here.
Dad: You know, you could just believe me when I tell you something.
Me: If I did that, I’d be voting Republican and eating red meat for every meal. No thanks.
Blergh. I hate beef. I know. I’m totally un-Merkan.
Dad: You’d be BETTER OFF. Those things are SMART. Plus, DELICIOUS.
Me: Mmm-hmm.
Dad: Why are you whispering?
Me: What? Random McGurk. I’m not.
Dad: STOP WHISPERING.
Me: Dad. I assure you I am not whispering.
Dad: Here, talk to your mother, your whispering is making me angry.
Then Dad gave the phone to my mother, and she picked up the extension in the other room and we chatted for a little while. Then I heard my dad in the background all “WOMAN WOMAN WOMAN LET ME TALK TO HER WOMAN WOMAN WOMAN” (sometimes he calls my mom that, it’s a thing, don’t ask) and she was all “sigh sigh sigh YOUR DAD WANTS YOU AGAIN.”
Me: What. I’m not even whispering.
Dad: Say some more things.
Me: What? What is WRONG with you today. You are being SO WEIRD. Mom heard me JUST FINE. I think your ears are broken.
Dad: MORE THINGS.
Me: Seriously, did you take that old codeine you have in the medicine cabinet that you’re saving in case there’s an apocalypse? I told you that’s probably expired and will cause brain damage now.
Dad has a whole drawer of old medication. I don’t even know what he’s saving it for. And I’m pretty sure it won’t do what it would have done when it was new anymore, either.
Dad: I FIXED IT!
Me: What the hell?
Dad: You weren’t whispering.
Me: No. No I was not whispering. I never whisper. Even when someone tells me to. I don’t think I’m capable. I’m very loud. You know that.
Dad: It was the PHONE.
Me: The phone was whispering? Is it haunted?
HAUNTED PHOOOOONE!
Dad: No, I was holding it with my face and I turned down the volume with my cheek by accident but I didn’t know it so I thought you were messing with my head.
Me: Yes, because I often pull a long con like whispering for a long period of time so you think you’re losing your hearing.
Dad: But while you were talking to your mother just now, I found the instructions. And at first, they wouldn’t tell me how to turn up the volume, so I almost threw them out the window.
RIGHT OUT THE WINDOW!
Me: RIGHT OUT THE WINDOW. That’d teach ‘em.
Dad: Then I found it! You hit the VOLUME button.
Me: Huh. That’s tricky of them, right? Very misleading.
Dad: So when I told you to keep talking? I was turning up the volume, and listening to see if it made your voice louder! Pretty tricky, right?
Me: Man, Dad. You’re the most tricky. Can’t put one over on you! How’s the volume now?
Dad: GOOD. I can hear you just FINE.
Me: What if I YELL SO LOUD?
Dad: Stop it. I have delicate ear-areas.
Me: Yes. Like a bat.
Dad: I hate bats. Stupid bats. Get in your house and swoop at your head with rabies in their teeth.
I’ve got rabies in my teeth! Someone get me some floss!
Me: Right in their teeth! Right in there.
Dad: I have to go now, because I’m going to read more things in this manual. You can also set how many rings before voice mail picks up! I’m going to change it to FIVE.
Me: Walk on the wild side, dude. Walk on the wild side.
So, there is CELEBRITY NEWS from dad-filters. Dad loves Lance Armstrong. He has Lance’s bracelets and he is Dad’s hero. I have no idea if the guy did drugs or not. I find it hard to believe he passed hundreds of drug tests without failing any, but I know nothing about drugs or testing for drugs, so I’m no expert and I don’t even play one on teevee.
The other celebrity news I read this week that I was all glued to was the news of Prince Harry. Listen! Listen. I LIKE PRINCE HARRY VERY MUCH. Here are my reasons.
Shut up, he is ADORABLE.
- He is a ginger;
- He is kind of adorable;
- He makes funny faces;
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This looks like Harry holding a hedgehog. I like this very much.
- He is tall;
- He doesn’t seem to be capable of following the royal rules and regulations;
- He looked super-hot in his military uniform (shut up, I’m only human, even though he’s young enough that my semi-crush on him makes me feel a little icky);
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I know, right? He could totally invade my country ANY DAMN TIME AT ALL. By country I of course mean my LADYBITS.
- He seems the most normal-human of the royals, and I like that about him.
So this week, Prince Harry came to Merka, and as you do when you’re an adorable ginger prince who will most likely never be king (that has to kind of suck, right? Being that close, but so far? I think I’d act up, too) he partied with Ryan Lochte who is apparently the new Michael Phelps and then played strip billiards and some asshole took a billion naked photos of him and sold them to the gossip magazines. NO, I’m not going to put them in here. Instead, here’s a photo of Harry holding a dog. Were you aware there is a Tumblr called Prince Harry Holding Things? Well, now you are.
AW MY ADORABLE LITTLE PRINCE HARRY! All the naked photos. How embarrassing. You know his grandmother was all, “NO NO NO WE DON’T DO THAT HARRY!” but then my guess is he charmed her into forgiving him because he blushed and apologized and she was all, “I CAN’T STAY MAD AT YOU MY BOY” because shit, he is the CUTEST.
See? Look. She ADORES him.
I don’t know that you could stay mad at Prince Harry for long. He’s like the kid with a frog in his overall pocket and mud all over his shoes but a cowlick and you can’t stay mad because he has a winning smile. I totally dig Prince Harry. I think he’s stubborn and irascible and full of fun. (Except I pretend the time he wore a Nazi uniform didn’t happen. I hate that. That’s the only time I was like, “Prince Harry, I can’t forgive you this one thing, and I will always be a little wary of you since that happened because you were TOTALLY old enough to know that wasn’t ok and you KNOW you weren’t drunk when you put that on, no matter how drunk you got once you got to that party. NAZIS ARE NEVER OK HARRY.”) NO, I am ALSO not showing you Nazi-uniform Harry; instead, here is a photo of Prince Harry shrugging winsomely.
*sigh*
Anyway, Prince Harry was all naked but none of the pictures showed anything good. Not that I looked. OH NO NOT ME. I am PURE AS THE DRIVEN SNOW and NOT AT ALL PERVING OVER A 27-YEAR-OLD. And listen, is that the most pervy? It’s not like he’s young enough to be my kid. He’s only about 10 years younger than I am. Is that terrible? If you think it is, you shush, I don’t want to hear it.
Also, if the only headline you can think of is a variation on “the Crown Jewels” you are not trying hard enough.
What do you think Prince William thinks of these hijinks? My guess is, jealousy. He never got to have hijinks. He was too busy balding (seriously, he used to be so handsome, I am so sad about his decline) and being groomed for eventual kingship. Kingdom? Both. Either. I don’t know. Also, probably he’s all, “that’s my baby brother, what can you do.” As a sister of a baby brother, I can attest you can forgive a baby brother a LOT of things. A LOT, a lot. Baby brothers are kind of magical like that. Even when they are no longer babies and have babies of their own and that baby is named THE NEPHEW and he is made out of rainbows and hugs.
I’ll take the one on the right, please. The one on the left looks too serious and unnaturally aged.
There is your celebrity news! Which was light on both CELEBRITY and NEWS. I’m not good at staying on task.
Now I am going to bed so I can go back to work tomorrow and work MORE HOURS. I know, you’re totally the most impressed with my work ethic, right? Listen, I don’t want to live in a cardboard box under a bridge, that’d be bad news. Dumbcat’d run away and I don’t think wifi works under bridges, yo.
(Title from Hole’s “Celebrity Skin.” You knew that, right? Of course you did.)
