I have always been a big fan of celebrity tabloids.  My mother always purchased a ‘People’ magazine while on the weekly grocery shop, and it was incidentally my most favourite day of the week.  I loved the pictures: the gorgeous men, the beautiful women, the stunning locations.  I loved the movie stars.  There’s a childhood photograph of me with a magazine on my lap and the image is extremely apt.  In the first grade, we had some kind of cut and paste collage assignment. What interested me most were the piles of tabloid magazines from which we were to make said collage.  On the cover of one magazine was a beautiful girl with a tiara and the headline alluded to “hitting rock bottom”. Who was this princess? Did she fall off a building?  Did she die?  Was it gross? Thoughts of the who/what/why/where consumed me—damn my basic reading skills, just what does rock bottom mean? I didn’t know then about scandal, that the cover story was about Vanessa Williams, who was stripped of her Miss America crown after pre-fame nude photos were published in “Penthouse” magazine.   Phew—so she didn’t actual hit a ‘rock bottom’…so are you saying that ‘gun point’ isn’t a real place either? Because I couldn’t understand why people would go places like Gunpoint and Knifepoint, no good ever comes of it! 

And so—as life moves along, that interest has not wavered.  In fact, one of my favourite things in life is to listen to CBC Radio 2, sip freshly made coffee, and flip idly through a trashy magazine, and I’d like to invite you to share with me this delicious ritual.  Today we have “In Touch” magazine, with crazy old Kim Kardashian on the cover.  One of the many reasons I love my husband, he says things like “What is Kanye thinking? Who would want to knock that up anyway?” Meow Benjamin—but good on you for getting into the bitch mix.  The headline, in bold yellow letters says, “PAID TO GET FAT!” followed by (and this is just the best-of) a “staggering 205 lbs…4200 calorie a day diet…scheming to make millions off her massive weight gain”.  Lucky girl, I’ve been getting fat for years and nobody has paid me a penny.  Honestly, I have such a dislike for Kim & Co, that I don’t usually buy a magazine with their picture on the cover…I just look it up on the internet for free.  She is such an indiscreet fame-whore; if she could turn a profit on bottling her own flatulence I swear she would—she could call it “Fart-dashian”.    She’s truly the Anna Nicole Smith of our generation. 

So…good thing we’ve got “Star Boob Blunders” to look forward to.   (I’ve gotta say, I would really hate to see a picture of myself in a bikini with that headline overhead).  Plastic surgery gives me the heebie-jeebies…has a dystopian novel been written about this yet? All these duck bill lips and drum tight women and orange men without distinguishing lines.  It’s a surgical “Dorian Gray”, because despite the nips and tucks, pulling and plumping—time comes after you.  Aging gracefully is a dying art form.      

Flipping, flipping, flipping…I’ve flipped through about five or so pages and I have no idea who any of these people are.  There’s a ton of reality television ‘stars’ in today’s modern magazine.  Who the hell is “The Bachelor” and what the fuck is RHOA? (Oh…The Real Housewives of Insert Major City Here).  Well, there you go; this is where these dystopian novels could be set. 

Halle Berry… is having ‘baby joy at 46’ (and with whose womb is she doing that?).  This is fertility propaganda at its best—and you know me, I love hearing about later-in-life mothers, but seriously, within a generation women will be giving birth in the middle of a shuffleboard game. More creepy science fiction at work here.   

Suri Cruise… is on a date at Nobu, which is supposed to be cute, but it’s just creepy.  Which is a notion that Ms. Cruise personifies perfectly.  And I’m not really sure what’s happening with those outfits.  Apparently she chooses her own outfit, and why she would want to dress herself as a boozy, over–the-hill lounge club singer is beyond me.  But really, a seven year old in high heels is just what I want to see in a magazine.

Ugh…former Playboy model/Hefner ex Holly Madison named her baby ‘Rainbow’.  I literally snorted when my eyes skimmed that line.  Jeez Louise, Rainbow—this woman could never be a ball busting lawyer or hard boiled cop with that name.  Ridiculous celebrity baby names are really close to my heart.  I’m going to get pregnant immediately just so I can jump on this fabulous wagon and name my baby Pina Colada, Lampshade, Gyprock or Twitter. You could be a celebrity and literally name your new born baby ‘Poopy Pants’, and people would roll their eyes, but secretly think it was cutting edge and chic.   

Taylor Swift…is a bit of a dick.  What’s left to say?  She’s going to have a baby with Zac Efron and name it “Feelings”.  (Okay, writer’s note–my husband just proofed this and said ‘no fucking way, they’re having a baby together?’ They are not, I was just being a wise-ass). 

Tom Cruise…how intense would he be as a husband? I bet he’d kiss you with his eyes open.  I don’t blame Katie Holmes for leaving him, though now she’s all alone with her feather-boa clad seven-year-old, who must thrash about the playroom demanding diamonds, elephants and trips to Dubai on a moment’s notice. 

Michelle Williams…is parading her cute pixie cut while walking her dog around Brooklyn.  Shame about her and Jason Segel; it’s like what Ben said about Katy Perry and Russell Brand: “I really thought that they would make it…like it was just crazy enough to make it work”.

Drew Barrymore…you know what, good for her, there’s nothing bitchy to report here. 

Christina Aguilera…scientists have announced that her transformation into Miss Piggy will soon be complete. (aaaand the bitch is back!) But serious side note…I am not the first person to make this comparison…have you checked the internet lately?

 Then… a its a few funny pictures of animals…a cat who looks like Tilda Swinton, and a strategically placed cat-food ad.  Enrique Iglesias on staying in and scrambling eggs: “Oh my, he’s so down to earth!”  A bit of fashion, puzzles, horoscopes, jokes—unflattering pictures of Ke$ha…she’s like a profitable version of Lindsay Lohan isn’t she?  (Hey, did anyone else happen to catch the Lifetime movie “Liz and Dick” with Lohan as Liz Taylor? Ha, ha…me neither.  And I definitely did not watch it twice).  Poor Lindsay..she was so fresh faced and cute in “Mean Girls” and now…(and lest we forget she is only 26)

 

Sigh, you don’t get much for $2.99, but I’ve definitely killed a couple million brain cells in a mere fifteen minutes.  And haven’t we all had a good laugh at the expense of others? What I miss about the magazines from yore was that celebrity culture seemed to have more style, class and talent…of course Cher was running around with her third face and Liza was her boozy, messy self, but it seems like the trash has gotten even trashier with the teen moms and the sex tapes, and these faces that are mutating in front of your eyes.  While sometimes you read and wish you had that kind of cash, the yachts, the houses, the power, the clothes…you have to wonder if fame and fortune creates delusions, paranoia and dysmorphia along with the awards and accolades.  And for a fleeting moment you think that it is better to have nothing at all than to have way too much.