If you're a girl and you visit Perez Hilton in class, on the toilet, in the morning, after lunch, when you're watching 90210 or only every 10 minutes, then I'm sure you've heard about the DJ AM, Travis Barker plane crash. Obvi. It's been like, four whole days. The sad thing is four people actually died. The funny thing is we would never have heard about that crash if famous people weren't involved.
What I learned from this whole thing is that I know way too much information about celebrities, just like the rest of a somewhat bored and apathetic youth. My knowledge rivals Wikipedia. I'm what's wrong with America.
When my friends copied and pasted links to the plane crash story into my IM, they should have known that I had already known for hours. PUHLEASE. I, after all, was their primary news source during the Heath Ledger incident. All of them were informed via emergency text message about his death, probably before Mary-Kate even found out she killed one of the last talented people in Hollywood.
When talking with my friends this weekend, I started a game. We traced back every link and connection we could between D-JAM (as I fondly refer to him) and the former Blink 182 dude, and everyone else in Hollywood. Here's what I came up with.
DJ AM was engaged to Nicole Richie, who's godfather is Michael Jackson, who once dated"" Lisa Marie Presley, who allowed Jackson to very grossly and very publicly make out with her at a MTV Video Music Awards show. Lisa Presley's daughter used to date Ryan Cabrera, who dated Ashlee Simpson when she had that terrible show, before she got pregnant and had her subsequent shot-gun wedding to Pete Wentz, who appeared on ""One Tree Hill"" with Chad Michael Murray, right after his divorce, who was in the disastrous movie ""House of Wax"" with Paris Hilton, who used to be BFF with Nicole Richie circa the ""Simple Life"", right when everyone found out about her sex tape and her fame really took off. Paris Hilton is seriously dating Benji Madden, one of those tatted-up Good Charlotte losers, and Nicole had Joel Madden's (Hilary Duff's old flame) baby, Harlow, who was born just a day before Christina Aguilera's baby, with that fugly looking gnome guy Jordan Bratman. It was Paris Hilton who inadvertently told everyone that Xtina was pregnant at a party before the 2007 VMAs, in which Britney made her shit-tastic ""comeback"" performance looking like an oversized sausage stuffed into lingerie, before Tommy Lee and Kid Rock got into a fight. A year later, DJ AM and Travis performed at the VMAs, just, like 3 weeks ago. OMG.
I could go on and talk about Travis's crazy stripper ex-wife Shayna and their reality show, but it would probably start to nauseate you.
In the good ole days, things were memorized that had cultural or academic importance. People learned new languages. Fourth graders memorized state and world capitals. The Hills were just unimpressive common land features, not a national obsession.
Before you know it, we'll be teaching our kids which starlets refuse to wear underwear (Julianna Margulies, the curly haired lady who used to be on ER, the show on TV that's gone at least 8 seasons too long, recently flashed her va-jay-jay) Then, they'll move on to memorize which celebs have had DUIs and which ones are most likely to pull a Lohan and spontaneously burst into a lesbian.
Sometimes I think I'd like to learn a new language, take an art history class or try a new hobby, like sailing. I want to write a novel, be able to label a whole map of the world by memory and name every world leader. But, instead, I'm blessed with the talent of being able to burp the name of every guy Paris has ever slept with.
It's like biting your nails, a bad habit you can't quit, no matter how much your fingers start to bleed. If I don't hear who Amy Winehouse hit this weekend, see shirtless photos of Zach Efron, or learn who Sienna Miller is now sleeping with, a little part of me dies. And though I wish I could rise above useless gossip, it's just something I love. It's as if, celebrities have chosen me. And, even if I do ever finally climb a mountain or read ""Ulysses,"" I'll still always be able to tell you who last went into rehab: David Duchovny (for sex).
Feed my addiction. Send any celeb stories or encounters to aaspencer@wisc.edu.
