I don’t write here, much, about my moonlighting gig as a gossip blogger. Mostly because, I figure, if you like celebrity gossip, you probably already read Famecrawler, and also because there’s just not that much to say about it, most of the time. Britney’s flaming out, you knew that; J-Lo’s pregnant, you probably knew that too. Unless I feel like waxing philosophic or feminist on the cult of celebrity in the context of the postmodern condition – which I do, from time to time - I’m not going to say much about it.
I could say much about a post that I wrote today for Famecrawler, but I’m not going to, because a) I’m still too mad, and b) I would probably just rant on and on about why I felt the need to get nasty about this particular ‘celebrity” – scare quotes totally intentional – and that would just get boring.
You can go read about it here, if you want. (If you want to read the stuff where I don’t get all red-faced and angry – which, I know, isn’t very attractive – you can check out a list of my less ranty posts here.)
Otherwise, I’m going back to my nauseated miserableness, made all the worse for the fact that it is Canadian Thanksgiving and I’m just going to barf up the turkey, so why even bother? Bah.
(Thank you for all your awesome advice, by the way. Some of it has helped me survive whole minutes out of each day, which is – I shit you not – saying a lot. xoxo)