Friday, September 01, 2006

Okay. So if Suri turns out to be a puppet, MK overdoses on "anorexia," Leinart says he's not the dad, and Nicky gets knocked up by that elf, I'm good

I'm not going to try to do one of those, "I know I should write more, but I haven't been because of xyz and I promise I'll do better" posts, even though...yeah. Anyway, we're going to talk about when obsessions become tangible.

I love celebrity gossip. I know it's not important, that there are events in this world that usurp whether or not Suri Cruise a) exists, or b) was birthed by a glassy-eyed runaway deep inside the bowels of the celebrity center.* From what I understand, there's a war or two happening somewhere...over there, and the Silver Fox keeps on talking about some sort of water-damage in New Orleans. I don't know much about it, but he seems really worked up about it every night on CNN.

None of this, however, changes the fact that ohmygoddidyouhearjessicaisdatingjohnmayer? She has a creepy father, ditched her sweet, understanding husband, turned orange, and is dating a dude with fish lips--while her ex is dating a hot lady who regularly appears in Maxim. Delicious.

So when I heard about Fafarazzi, which is basically fantasy football for celebrities, I, of course, became immediately obsessed. Knowing nothing about fantasy sports, I of course, screwed up my first round draft picks and missed out on the sacred tabloid cows of Paris, Jessica and Lindsay. Little fake Cruise, however, has proven to be quite the boon. After an ill-advised and sentimental draft of Pete Wentz, I dropped him, along with Owen Wilson and others and shook up my roster last night. I'm currently third in my league, but only one point separates me from second.

I'm betting on some more Couric news leading up to her putting on her serious face and talking about explosions and stuff, John Mayer's side of the story/fan-saving denial, and I'm really hoping that the Go Fug Yourself girls are right about the less-skanky Hilton girl.

Obsession is bad enough, but when you're actively rooting for Maggie Gyllenhaal to be pregnant with her brother's kid just because the points that would garner would be phenomenal, your mental state is probably less than desirable. But seriously, Scarlett. Where's the sex tape?

*Seriously. There is no third option. It's one of the two.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I prefer Swelltown to Fafarazi. Check it out.