Celebrity Gossip

It's been a long week at work, so I stopped by a drugstore on my way home to buy a bunch of celebrity gossip magazines.  I used to laugh at people who liked celebrity gossip, including my sister and many of my very intelligent friends. However, since the little angel's birth, I have been sucked into the sorority of Britney-hating fundraisers for Us, People and In Touch.  Buy stock now.

Why is it so gratifying to read about Gwyneth's Chanel diaper bag?  Probably because I know that despite its glossy logo, she keeps baby poo accessories in there, too, just like me. And they don't made designer disposable diapers, as far as I know.  She and Courtney may have night nurses to quell Coco and Apple's nighttime hunger (and who wouldn't have it if you were named after food products?), but nobody has a nanny all the time.  At some point or another, all of us mommies have to bite back the urge to whine back at the teary child.

I also like to see them wear their Mukluks (or however you spell that) with shorts.   Because we all know it is impossibly hip to mix, say, a ski parka and denim cut-offs or some other such hodgepodge of an outfit.  I also noticed recently that the moccasins that I wore in high school (my friend K. called them Mohican Indian Raingod Thunderbird Moccasin Shoes) are now uberfashionable.  Who would have known?  I got mine in Minnesota, the hippest of the flyover states.

Yes, it's true. There are few things that can't be fixed by learning that Angelina Jolie can make even Jennifer Aniston have a fat day. Ah, bliss.