Lowlife Trash

Monday means a lot of varying things to a lot of different people - the start of the working week, day 1 of another failed diet,  or perhaps the second last day of that now regretted bender comedown after a large Saturday.  For myself, it means the day on which all the new trash mags hit the shelves.  Don't berate me, I'm already deeply ashamed of myself.  After all, it's me that had to suffer the recent humiliation of being sprung reading "Size 14 and Proud of It" - with pictures of celebrities arses all over the cover - by my partner's intellectual sister.  She's written a book on international law that is on the reading list for Harvard.  I, on the other hand, sometimes write a blog about poo and how much I hate airline staff......(plus I just spelt Harvard wrong and had to correct it on spell check)......

Speaking of Harvard.....the dux of her class makes a rare public appearance

Buying and reading trashy magazines is like a one night stand.  They seem so inviting when you're out staring at them from across the room (or supermarket).  But after you get them home and go through them like the cheap slut you are, you feel dirty and betrayed, and wish you had never gone there.  I've been hiding them under my bed lately due to my little guilty midnight indulgence when everyone has gone to bed.  Exactly like a shamefully regretted shag on the side.  Sometimes I try and move to a classier type....start something up with a Frankie or a Nylon.  But although much cooler and better looking, plus you don't have to try and smuggle it past your flatmates on the way in and out of your bedroom, it doesn't give you that same thrill - knowing you are doing something dirty.... and inexcusable in polite company.

And now speaking of someone dirty and inexcusable

The thing is, like a one nighter with some worthless dickwad, I know crapy magazines are shit.  They are bad for me, my finances and my mental and emotional development.  But I just can't help myself.  I have to come clean.  I LOVE the way those cheap fucks make me feel.......How can I resist the latest issue of "Stars Without Makeup" and scoffing over just how shit Rosie Huntington-Whatever looks like on her way to the gym.  I also know they tell lies to get me into the sack....."Brad and Ange to Wed in Secret Bisexual Den...not to mention the intimate details from the "insider" who gives exact details of the actual fight Brangelina had in the bedroom of their French Chateau about Maddox seeing a picture of Angie's lesbian lover on the Internet.

The love triangle that refuses to die

It's total bullshit of course.  But I (among others) am hypnotised by their charms, their shiny glossiness and their revealing promises.  When you do it with your other slutty friends, it's even better. You can discuss the sleaze together, and it makes you feel less shamed if you know other people have been seduced as well.  But where as trashy mags can be pathetic in their sincerity and compliments relating to worthless people, I more often enjoy the celebrity bashing offered by such sites as dlisted.com, and shows like Fashion Police.  This is where there is no mercy shown.  It may be mean, but by god is it funny.....


I once read an interesting article on why people indulge in this type of sordid celebrity voyeurism.  There were the assertions that we all feel disconnected from other people in our society, so we treat these people like acquaintances, and talk about them with familiarity like we're discussing mutual friends.  
"Oh my god, can you believe she is with him....he's such a knob, he was with that other chick at that premiere just last week"  
"I know and did you see what she was wearing.  She thinks she's so fricken hot since she went on that detox diet....scrag".  
There's also the theory, that because America has never had a royal family they have to elevate entertainers to some god-like status and photograph their every move and outfit.  Perhaps, but the celebrity obsession is no less in the UK.  It could be even more pronounced......There is even a disorder called Celebrity Worship Syndrome, and surprise surprise, this affliction is associated with poor mental health.  Then there are the people that refer to this celebrity fascination as schladenfreude - taking pleasure in the miseries of other people....trust the Germans to be the only people in the world to have one word for this.  We enjoy watching people sink lower and lower - getting dumped, crashing and burning, another trip to rehab.....or simply bad, bad hair.

How could you George?

Many people are sick of the "C" word, and I'm not talking about the big one in this case.  "Celebrity" has become such an overused word in our society.  Perhaps it has ceased to have meaning, to the point where it is suggested  that "Supercelebrity" should be employed.  This then could describe people that are actually interesting enough to warrant so much of society's attention.  It is a warped and fascinating thing, that people can be so admired and made wealthy, by releasing footage of themselves humping some other vaporous individual. Whereas, most of us could not name the last person who won the Nobel Peace Prize.  For everyone's knowledge (see, I can attempt to educate, as well as amuse and repulse....plus I just did a google search), it was  was awarded jointly to Tawakkol Karman, Leymah Gbowee and Ellen Johnson Sirleaf "for their non-violent struggle for the safety of women and for women’s rights to full participation in peace-building work" (whoever they are....put a sex tape out bitches and then you'll get some respect).

Do something with your hair love

One word...make-up

That head scarf is so 2011

Look, I know I'm leaving myself wide open to all of you Lateline, Media Watch-ing types that read The Economist.  I am impressed by the way....but I have one important question for you......have you seen the latest shots of Rianna doing coke off a bald guy's head? And, if so, do you think she's become a total tramp of late? Anyway, so what.....enjoy whatever you get up to in your free time.  Meanwhile, I'll go back to being a shameless trashy slut.  Why stop when it feels so good?

She still loves him!  It explains everything.....