A Post in Which I Reveal a Dirty Little Secret

I blame my dad, and his penchant for bringing home issues of the National Enquirer with the covers ripped off from the confectionery store in town for starting me on this downward spiral. It wasn't long after I started making my own money from babysitting and such that I started buying my own, as well as issues of Cosmopolitan. At an early age I was hooked on these trashy gossip rags, and it hasn't gotten any better, what with the vast selection that we have now. Back in the day, all you really had to choose from was the Enquirer or Star Weekly, and Burt and Loni and Tammy Faye were the only ones that had major drama to write about...and now they are everywhere, and everyone gets their 15 minutes.

I first was called out on my trashy magazine obsession  collection fondness, in the early 2000's at a party at my old house. My friend Renee ran into my bedroom and discovered the PILES of Cosmo back issues on the floor, sofa, bed and proceeded to make fun of me. She was shocked that someone like me would read such drivel. I explained that I didn't read it to get dating/beauty tips, or because I thought it was exceptional literature, but it was a form of entertainment for me, a way to give my brain a break, but still read. That was the honest to god truth.

It took a couple years, but I grew tired of Cosmo and its repetitiveness. I had to find something else to read when stressed, bored or when I couldn't sleep. Although I am an avid reader of books ( I average two a week), I realized that sometimes you just want to curl up on the couch or in bed and think about somebody else other than yourself. The job of a celebrity is to entertain you, and reading about their relationships, drug problems, pregnancies, and diva antics is entertaining whether they want to admit it or not. Thus, my tabloid magazine obsession was officially born.

The past couple years, I have spent hundreds of dollars on the damn things. Life & Style and Star get the most money from me, only because their cover prices are lower. I don't favor a certain publication more than another, I love them all equally. I find that I am reading them often enough that I can pick out conflicting stories, old paparazzi photos that are passed off as recent, if someone wore the same dress to two different events, and seriously if only Lindsay Lohan would just call me, I could help her out with an ear to listen and a slap in the face.

I know full well that the vast majority of stories about celebrities are bull-shit. I don't even know who half of the people are, because I don't watch 90% of the popular shows on television. (Seriously, who  is Taylor Momsen and what does she do? Emma Stone? Melissa Rycroft? Ali Fedotowsky? Why were they all at the same Justin Timberlake golf tournament? Why does JT golf? I thought only hockey players and Alice Cooper golfed...I'm confuzzled. Yeesh.) The last episode of The Hills proved that "reality" shows are not real at all (Thank you, Hills.), but yet I'm transfixed. When I'm standing in line at the grocery store, I can't help but read the headlines. By the time it's my turn to pay, I've decided that I need to know what Amber from Teen Mom did this time, if Brad if finally leaving that freak Angelina, and if the Glee kids really do have orgies in their trailers between takes.

It gets worse. When I first get home and find the time to read my new magazine, I only read the articles that I found interesting in the first place. Within the next couple days, I've read the articles I didn't care about, such as anything to do with a Kardashian (seriously, more useless than Paris Hilton), the Jersey Shore/DWTS/Bachelor, or any other show I don't watch ( in most cases have never watched.) Then, I re-read it. I keep stacks of these tabloid magazines for months. I re-read them over and over and over. They are my bedtime reading, my way of turning my brain off for 30 minutes before it is ready to sleep. I don't get rid of them until a) I am truly bored of them, and need to comb through and cut out pics for scrabble tile pendants, or b) my husband cleans up and throws them away. Who the hell reads the same Twilight/Brangelina/Kendra Wilkinson/Jersey Shore article 20 times over? This girl, right here. I know, it's sick.

I have been told by people more money-conscious than myself that I don't have to buy these magazines. Each one has their own site, with all the same stories on it, and sometimes more. The internet is free, apparently. What these people don't understand is, that I know that. I spend a morning every week catching up on MamaPop.com. I occasionally will check out People.com if I'm bored. Yahoo News usually has a couple good links every few days too. But it's just not the same. I cannot comfortably lay in bed eating popcorn and curl up with a good web page, nor is it safe to take into the bathtub.  The magazine can be moved easily, folded, and it doesn't stop working if I fall asleep and drop it in hot water.

So yes, I am a tabloid junky, and I don't care who knows it. If knowing this makes you question whether or not you can be my friend, I hope that if I tell you that I think all the Twilight kids are ugly, Kristen Stewart is a worse actor than Gene Simmons, and I will never give Perez Hilton's blog a second of my time, because he's a total douchebag, makes you feel better. Now, I'm going to make some tea, and find out from OK! if Taylor Swift truly is dating Maggie Gyllenhaal's little brother.