The latest in celebrity news, brought to you from the OFFICIAL blog of Joslyn Corvis.
Some celebrities have gotten in trouble for DUI’s it seems. And some went under the knife to remain youthful. There was also a very scandalous event featuring some very well-known celebrities. But let me digress and get down to the heart of it all.
No one cares! I don’t care that someone got married, broke up, had a baby, lost or gained weight, got into trouble with the law, or any of that other nonsense. Mostly because I have some semblance of a life, though not much, but I just can’t trouble myself with celebrities and their drama or even their joys really. I don’t know these people. I don’t care to. I haven’t watched a whole movie since, like, maybe 2008, and it was probably animated and I probably couldn’t even tell who the voices were if I didn’t know from the credits and pre-existing movie-hype.
Plus I hate gossip. All this “news” is pretty much “DID IT HAPPEN…OR DIDN’T IT” nonsense. Sure, there maybe be pictures involved but really, who cares? I’d rather sift through my own photo albums. That makes me feel good as opposed to the contempt I feel when people I don’t even know or care about grace the covers of magazines telling people how to live, how to lose weight, blahblahblah.
Oh. And even worse. Most of the rag-mags take the most horrible photos of people and post them as a huge attention-getting spread. The headlines say stupid things like, “SO-AND-SO GOING BACK TO REHAB!” or “INFIDELITY! SCANDAL! DRUGS! WHAT’S REALLY RIPPING THEIR MARRIAGE APART!” The last one is stated as an overly-zealous declarative statement rather than a question. Honestly? I DON’T CARE! Because it’s probably all lies, anyway.
Not to mention the fact that if one were to sift my pictures, they’d probably find a photo of me, mid-blink, maybe mid-yawn, making a goofy face that they could use to slander me with and claim that I was drunk and undergoing depression therapy. Possibly at the same time. You wouldn’t even have to doctor my pictures up, and I imagine it’s the same for a celeb they catch off-guard and snap a picture up-close in their face, especially when we’re used to seeing them so uber-glammed up in movies and professional pictures. You can infer anything about a picture, especially when the headline states boldly, “THE LONG NIGHTS OF BINGE-DRINKING AND GAMBLING LEADS TO BANKRUPTCY!”
Celebs annoy me with their self-righteous ways, and of course how is someone in a million-dollar finance bracket going to tell the average mom to raise a child or lose the baby weight when they have every resource necessary to do pretty much whatever they want? There is nothing to be gleaned from those who live so far outside of reality (ie: money factoring into hobbies and things that the average person would like to do, but just can’t afford). I’m not saying they didn’t work hard to get where they are, but let them make movies and entertain us. We shouldn’t make them out to be role models or lifestyle guides or getting into their personal business or acting like they’re saints or terrible people because we just don’t know! I’m indifferent to the things I hear about celebrities for the most part, because I wasn’t there and can’t judge hearsay.
So I conclude my blog with this thought: I’m sick of hearing about what so&so is up to. They’re people. And I expect that they would live like normal people, except they can give a waiter a $5,000 tip for a $2,000 meal. I’m not overly interested when something that happens to everyday people happens to them because I’d rather be excited for someone I actually know who is getting married or having a baby, and be there for my friends who are going through the rough stuff than waste my energy on reading up or watching TMZ speculating about people’s personal lives. In fact, I feel guilty for even mentioning this because every time you even THINK of the name of some rich and famous person, they get even MORE famous. And richer. And the whole cycle annoys me.
Aside from a couple of cats I fell in love with, despite myself, I’m not a cat person. You’re petting a cat, and suddenly another is jumping up to face off with him and you’re an innocent bystander in the middle of battle. Or you pet them on the wrong spot, like their tummy because they want you to pet their back but then they roll over and you accidentally touch their tum-tum and they scratch you. The cats I knew, I trusted, even though they were sometimes a little unpredictable. And as we know, any good relationship is built on trust. But there were a few things that made me afraid of cats, be it your domestic kitty or a jungle cat.
I was once bitten by a cat when I was petting it. I got scratched in the face by a huge Garfield-like cat who was also orange and fat and fluffy; he was sweet but I tried to gently rouse him from his sleep because he was lying on the guest bed and it was time for me to go to bed. Anyway, he started and scratched me right in the face, and even though he didn’t mean it, it was scary!
Then there was the instance of the dog-cat. Not having much experience with cats, I was walking around the house when my roomies were gone as it was their cat. It had never come to me before but I ran around and it chased my heels like a dog. I found a common thread as I can relate better to dogs. Anyway, I got tired eventually and sat down. The cat jumped on my lap! She’d never done that before and usually shied away. So I was trying to purr, as her human told me he purred to her when she was a kitten to create a bond because that’s how cat-moms communicate with the babies. Instead, I hissed. I figured it was a legitimate cat-sound, and it was, because the cat’s pupils narrowed in an instant and dilated to full size again as it stared at me. She held me captive on a couch and could detect the slightest of my muscle movements as I was trying to get up. The phone rang and I told her it might be important, but she didn’t care. She just held me down, slapping a paw on me, claws out, every time I tried to move. I finally got up, maybe fifteen minutes later, in one brisk, fluid movement.
So I could never trust a cat too close to my body or face, and although that was a faux-pas of my own ignorance, as I thought it would bond us, it helped to seal that terror I had when it came to cats. To make it worse, I’d imagine myself walking through big-cat territory and how you may not even know they’re there! I actually heard once that big cats like mountain lions will watch you if you’re on their turf and unless you misstep or walk too far, you’d never even know you were being watched! I imagine the tiny paw of the housecat I had my scuffle with multiplied by ten, and four-hundred pounds of brute force clawing your body. And the tiny jaws that once bit me amplified by the bit force of jaws that were descended of the great sabre-toothed cat. Even if it’s a “tame” wild cat, they have that unpredictable nature of their smaller household companion counterparts.
And that is why I’m terrified of cats.