In Paris we Trust

Yes, the rumors are true. We came in second at trivia tonight. I know, I know, I am greatly disappointed in myself. I started reading the press clippings, I brought a championship belt to the bar in order to show off our dominance, and in the end the fact that I couldn’t recognize theme songs to Nintendo games killed our team’s chances. That and the fact that I can’t identify a flag to save my life. Seriously, I probably wouldn’t have gotten Canada correct (it has a picture of Maple Syrup on it, right?) Maybe I’ve just killed off one too many brain cells over the years.

(And add to that the fact that I missed the most obvious joke imaginable regarding the Pants Off Dance Off. See, there are people that are funny immediately and people who think of something funny six hours later and write it down. I’m someone who thinks of something marginally amusing twelve hours later, writes it down, and realizes two days later what would have been completely hilarious.)

On the celebrity front, a pregnant Brittney Spears is going to appear nude on a magazine cover (Bazaar I think) in the next month. This means you should probably be inching towards the under on my “When will Brittney do a Playboy shoot?” proposition. The photo actually isn’t that bad though the question of why, clothes or no clothes, anyone gives a damn at this point is significant. If we take Debbie Gibson as an example, no one cared that she sang backup on a Circle Jerks record. She had her pop songs and disappeared into obscurity and/or the touring cast for Les Miserables. Tiffany I believe is still singing in a mall somewhere. Brittney is just a faded pop star and how she was able to parlay that bit of fame into world wide celebrity is the sign of a really good agent. Basically, like Paris Hilton and my beloved Lindsay, she is now famous for being famous and not for accomplishing anything.

(Still, Lindsay does have measurable talent. It would just be better if she weighed more than ninety pounds.)

The sad thing is that as much as I complain about the cult of celebrity I basically make my living, at least the trivia related part of my living, by praying at the altar of celebrity gossip. We all want to know what is going on with Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes (who I believe is now officially listed as a political prisoner), we want to know just how the hell Gwyneth Paltrow decided to name her kids Apple and Moses, and it’s nice to know that Nick Nolte can still get arrested in this town. On the surface you would say that all of that information is completely meaningless but really, it isn’t. In reality, all of our media shows us hyper-successful people living lives that none of us can ever dream of. Even in How I Met Your Mother, Ted has a much better apartment and a cooler life than I do and his entire character is a plagiarization of my life. So every second we look at the tv and go, “God, I wish I can live that life” but can then turn on E! and realize, “Well, I might not have much but at least I’m not as screwed up as Paris Hilton.” And in a strange way, that allows all of us to sleep better at night.