My name is S. Godfree and I am an addict. That’s not completely true – I can usually control myself and not actively pursue my guilty weakness, but every now and again, I’m in a place where it’s easily attainable, and most frighteningly, free. To make matters worse, we recently had a couple of houseguests (you know who you are) who brought the junk directly into my home. My final downfall in which I came face to face with my number one weakness? Someone absentmindedly left an Us Weekly in the powder room. Don’t these people know how important it is to keep celebrity magazines away from me?
I DO care that Reese and Jake are doing well, and are on holiday together in Paris – according to pals, he’s completely committed, by the way.
I DO care that Madonna is destroying A-Rod’s wife – that slut, Madonna, has to sink her claws into every man she meets!
I DO care why Cameron has gone green – besides being stylish and sexy, she’s just so darn responsible.
However, here’s where my joyride down Celeb-rag Boulevard comes to a screeching halt. I inadvertently flip the page to the feature that always sickens me, and zaps me right back into my Marxist malaise: Stars—They’re Just Like US!
But are they really? Just look at these people living their bloated and materialistic lifestyles:
This picture represents exactly what I’m talking about. It may be true that we all enjoy a cocktail from time to time, but on the Italian coast!? Okay, a slight admission: I’m going to be in Amalfi in a couple of weeks, but still, this picture disgusts me.
All right, all right…so I’ve been to Cannes, but I didn’t rent a Jet Ski while I was there; that would have just been soooooo bourgeois. Instead, I sat on the beach or frolicked in the Mediterranean like all the other plebes.
So um, I’m different from these stars: I actually pay to have someone else wash my car. Unlike Carmen and Rob, I think it’s important to support the people who work in car washes. Also, I’m sure my ride costs way less than theirs. Driving a Dodge is a prime example of the type of conspicuous consumption I’m trying to talk about here. It just sickens me.
Okay, I have to admit that as a child I loved these slides where you sit in the burlap sack, but Madonna (the whore) should know that there are people all over the world who dress in burlap sacks because they can’t afford quality fabrics (satin sheets, a luxury so fine, indeed!). As opposed to Ms. Ciccone, I prefer sleeping on Egyptian cotton – satin is purely for pajamas.
Maybe the true guilt I feel when looking at entertainment magazines is that instead of the previous pictures, I see these:
So as we see, people, my true guilty pleasure is simply GUILT. What’ve you got?