Please, Let Me Get Over Them

Ok, I know I'm probably flogging a dead horse that has rotted in the sun for the past however long, but bear with me here. I am absolutely sick and tired of hearing about twiggy, drug addicted, psychotic, spoiled princesses when there is real news to be had. Our news outlets have become free publicity for people who are about as useful as "tits on a boar hog" as my mother would say.

If you have a good publicist and a new twist on an old drug habit, you are golden. You don't have to do anything. An acting career or career as a singing twinkie will get you started, but so will uber-rich relations. Reflected fame of a relative will suffice as well. Be well known for being known by bouncers, then go out "commando" and make sure the paparazzi get a good angle on the goods.

A recent new twist in this free time in Publicity land is to have children and then go to court over them. Party late into the night with a notorious heiress who has talked smack about you for years, flash your new Brazilian wax job on the A/P wire and lose custody of the children to your "has been who never was" ex-husband who has about as much emotional maturity as you do. Quickly follow it up with a dramatic new hairdo, or a lack of hair altogether. Have a couple of breakdowns that involve shutting down your neighborhood and sucking city resources into that black hole of your life. The local police have nothing better to do than shut down local streets and stand around while you make certain your hair is just the right degree of mussed for the cameras waiting in the bushes. Local gangs will hold off their drive-bys while you kick and flail while being strapped to a gurney in a sad imitation of "Girl Interrupted."

Next on the menu is Rehab Repeat. One young actress is enjoying her multiple stays at a local rehab. She seems to have slept through the part where they talked about keeping the tequila bottle away from your lips. After your third attempt to make Van Cleef and Arpel's a drive through jewelry store, return to rehab to sleep through the part about not getting behind the wheel of a car after sucking down a fifth of Jack and a couple of rails of Peru's finest. Leave rehab, party with a notorious heiress you got in a cat fight with a year ago over a guy no one remembers who doesn't remember you, or the heiress. Get caught flashing what your mother used to diaper with the heiress and the psychotic mother of two in the back of a limo. During this time rely on your previous movies to keep your name alive at the studios. It doesn't matter that the last thing you did was somewhere around the time America learned the name of Osama Bin Laden and you are starting to look enough like him that men in black sunglasses are starting to follow you about. Oh wait, that's the Ecuadorian Happy Powder kicking in.

If you don't already have children, find a sad musician and make a baby with him. A new twist to this one is to weigh less than your German Shepherd when you get pregnant. The "baby bump" will show within a week of conception. The new "boobs" is collar bone. A collar bone that sticks out far enough for your "fierce" designer to hang most of your wardrobe from is considered the height of fashion these days. In fact, on some women who are terribly chic the collar bone extends past their boobs. This results in the necessity to go in for a boob extension. Hair extensions are done during the prep time and a Botox chaser is given as a cocktail in the recovery room.

Why do I know all this? Because, although I don't buy the magazines that support these crazy broads, I am force fed it by "serious" journalists. They headline this and give a short blurb in between celebs on our troops fighting two wars, our Constitution being trashed, our president trying to be a king, homes foreclosing left and right, and ethanol eating our food supply. Jeez, talk about fiddling while Rome burns, and these girls aren't even talented "fiddlers."

Want to know the worst part of it? I can't escape them in the elevator at work. I work two floors above E! Entertainment.