I used to get angry when people spoke of celebrities like they were friends of theirs who were over for a few brews just chatting about life. NO. You found out that absurdly private information via poorly written tabloid columns. “Man, Lindsay needs to get her life together.” Or, “Poor Katie Holmes. So glad she got out of that nightmare relationship with Tom.” Or, “Rihanna’s an idiot for getting back with Chris.” (she is).  However, now it just makes me plain sad… for my withering brain capacity.

Without actively seeking this knowledge I have unwillingly been subjected to intricate details of complete strangers lives and get this- STORING IT. You know how I know? Because without even thinking about it I can remember mostly every detail of any recent celebrity scandal/happening/event/tediously boring activity just by hearing the name of the celebrity involved. This makes me increasingly uncomfortable for two reasons, one: I can barely remember what I ate yesterday, but I can recite the birth date of Jay-Z and Beyonce’s baby. Two: Knowing a celebrity’s net worth makes me want to punch kittens and kick puppies. I don’t like feeling the compulsion to punch or kick cute, cuddly animals, but once I read how much Kristen Stewart is getting paid to play a mopey teen in yet another sub par, monotonous indie move, or better yet, a certain popular vampire-lover with zero range of emotion and a penchant for adultery- reason goes out the window. All I see is red.

I wish I was this adept at retaining music knowledge. Whenever I listen to music I rarely know who’s singing or even what decade it came from. I barely know anything about musicians. What do you mean Franklin Ocean isn’t a British composer from 1819? So Grimes isn’t a euphemism for an STI? Lil Wayne isn’t a race horse from New Jersey? Rihanna’s terrible. See what I mean? Clueless. 

I am actively trying to offset this celebrity trivia with more important things though, like pictures of food… and politics. Although, I must admit, telling people about how Al Roker shat his pants at the White House is an excellent conversation-starter.

This is like my favorite thing ever. EVER.