Because Getting A Girl Pregnant = Celebrity

We live in an alternate gossip/real world space time continuum these days. I say this because I have no concept of what gossip and celebrity was like growing up, I just knew that I had a crush on Elizabeth Shue and that if given the chance to rent "the one where Elizabeth Shue almost maybe shows her boob" or "that movie where ninjas kill people", I would go for the Elizabeth Shue boob chance. What does that have to do with anything, you ask? Let me try to get back to that point later. (I probably just wanted to talk about Elizabeth Shue) Lately though, the amount of "I want it now" access to the most mundane shit in the world is at an all time high. I say this because I was reading my daily US Weekly newsletter (let me finish) and it's headline was that Jon Gosselin had twittered about his weekend in Tribeca with his under-aged girlfriend.

No seriously. Read that back.

Because this is basically what it says:

"Some guy cheats on his wife who he has kids with, and then hangs out with the woman he cheated on in New York, a popular city which a lot of people live in."

Like, really? This is what I'm taking in these days? Nevermind these facts:

  • I get an US Weekly newsletter. Which means receiving the magazine in the real mail was not enough for THIS guy
  • I must have actually read it, meaning I have not flagged this as spam yet. Which is terrifying on a lot of levels

Here's what's more important. We've gotten to the point where any guy who knocks up his wife with more than 2 kids is considered a celebrity (I will give it to the Duggars, because I'm fascinated with any man who can knock his wife up 18, good luck with that one). He is so much of a celebrity that I need hourly updates from John about things like this:

@jongosselin1: Just had killer lebanese food for lunch, definitely different but delicious!

@jongosselin1: Also, please note that Hailey does NOT have any facebook account. If you're receiving messages from her name it is NOT from Hailey!

@jongosselin1: Happy to be at House of Hype/Talent Resources VMA After Party at The Rivington- sponsored by Starbucks VIA

There is a reason I have selected these three nuggets of "wow" for you.

The first is the classic "thing I don't even want to read my friend write." That's great, Jon. You ate lebanese food? Cool. I just ate a walnut. See what that was to you? Useless information that wasn't even funny, and was therefore a waste of about 5-7 seconds of both of our lives. What WILL these celebrities do next? Breathe?

The second is hilarious because...this is a parent of eight children. Who is writing a note as though he's telling all his other middle school friends to SO not believe what Sally Walker is writing about his girl because that Sally is a ho and she's just jealous that SHE didn't make cheer squad (really? really).

And the third just brings the point up. WHY is this man at parties for celebrities...parties that are already ridiculous to begin with? Let me tell you what the guy did: he got lucky/unlucky (depends on which way you look at it) and had a lot of kids with a woman who shaves her head like a pro wrestler. Because of this, he did what other men do as they age: he gained a lot of weight, got weird about the fact that he was balding, and then had an early mid-life crisis and cheated on his wife with ugly girls. Wow. Give the man a prize.

So that last statement brings up the obvious question, though: why do I care about what these people do anyways? It's totally odd that I'm completely caught up in it and enjoy knowing everything about them. If I could remove the vast pop culture knowledge I have lodged in my brain, I'm convinced I would have created either a hover board, shoes that never smell bad, a mechanical pencil where the .07 lead never breaks (I WILL WIN, BIC), or an exact replica of Scrooge McDuck's money vault with a form of gold coin that one could actually swim in. Instead, I'm busy learning that a fat guy is a horrible parent and wears poor selections of Ed Hardy shirts. Sooo...that's worth my time.

And to top it off, I'm ironically bitter because he's interrupting the crappy celebrity news I actually want to know. Like if Elizabeth Shue has divorced her husband yet. Because Elizabeth? I could hear about her all day. Even if it's just about her eating Lebanese food. Because I'll take that tweet as a secret message that means: "I want to do you, Drew Hoolhorst."

Me too, Elizabeth. Me too.

Drew Hoolhorst

I have a black belt in feelings.