I don’t read gossip magazines. I don’t follow celebrity blogs or Twitter feeds, I don’t watch E! or Extra or TMZ. To be perfectly honest, I’m not even sure if those are the “popular” celebrity sites or shows; those are just the ones I remember flipping past on the television when I do watch my late night reruns. Part of the reason is that it makes me feel old – either they’re showing videos and photos people like Dakota Fanning and Abigail Breslin doing grown up things when in my head, they are permanently ten years old – or they make me feel dirty and old, i.e. showing a picture of Taylor Lautner shirtless and I’m all “Ooh, yummy,” until I remember that he was probably still in diapers when I graduated high school and then I’m all, “Ew, I’m old enough to be a cougar,” and have a drink instead of continuing to hurt my own feelings. Another part of the reason? Is that I despise everything Kim Kardashian and it is fucking impossible to watch any sort of gossip/celebrity show without that stupid bag of hair smiling beatifically for a photo-op with that walking piece of arrogance she’s engaged to.
But the biggest reason of all is shit like this interview with Mariah Carey in which she compares her time on American Idol to working with Satan every day. I had to read the whole thing because I thought to myself, “That’s impossible. She wouldn’t actually say something so ridiculous.” She did. Read the article. Her exact words? “It was like going to work every day in hell with Satan.”
Really, Mariah? Was it really so bad? Was it really just so, so, very difficult to get paid 18 fucking million dollars to judge a talent show? 18 million dollars. Do you have any concept of how much money that actually is?
THINGS I WOULD DO FOR 18 MILLION DOLLARS
Yes – Pretty much anything
No – Eat a baby
I once had a manager when I was waiting tables whose night was not complete unless he made someone cry. He would scream profanities at you that didn’t even make sense, “Fucking yes bread is slow stop waiting dammit go!” “Don’t care steak broken fryer!” and my favorite, a horrifying Hunger Games version of red light green light, “Get out! Where are you going! Get that out! Get back here! What are you waiting for?! Pay attention and stop!” until you were slip sliding in your own sweat holding a full tray of food above your head with one hand, questioning every life choice you ever made. Do you know how much money I made doing that four or five times a week for three years, Mary Poppins? Three dollars an hour. And do you know what else? I did it with a fucking smile, because I had a job and I was grateful. How long would you make it in a regular job, Ms. Mariah? As a mail carrier, a receptionist, a customer service rep? A nurse, a social worker, a teacher? You’re a very lucky woman. You were born with an extraordinary talent that you’ve used to your advantage, which ensures that you will never actually have to “work,” in the real world a day in your life. From what the article stated, part of your problem is that Nicki Minaj called you “insecure,” and “bitter.” Instead of having the audacity to feel sorry for yourself, prove her wrong. Take a look around and be happy and humble at what life has provided you with. Or at least get a better publicist that will advise you against complaining about the show that paid you 18 million dollars in one year to sit on a stage and look pretty.