And I'm not saying this to be critical. NONE of us can figure out our own lives. Nothing makes sense. You spend money getting the brakes fixed on the car, and then the car won't start. You lay in a side of beef in the freezer for the winter, and the freezer breaks down. You make plans for a weekend at the beach and it rains. You know how it goes.
So that is one reason for the interest in Pittolie, or whatever portmanteau they are called for short. Another might be that, deep inside, we admire the rich and the talented and those blessed with beauty up to a certain point...and past that point, we really don't mind seeing crappy things happen to them.
We've all been dumped at some point, and that's why we always related so well to poor Jennifer Anison, the person jilted when Pitt waltzed off with Angelina.
Here's a good way to play it... be like Adele. Say you don't gossip, and then gossip.
"Brangelina have broken up. I don’t like gossiping, and private lives should be private, but it’s the end of an era, so I’m dedicating this show to them today,"she said.
The END of an ERA, ladies and gentlemen. Paleolithic. Epipaleolithic. Neolithic. Angbradolitihic.
Adele continued, "Because honestly, I’m really, really sad, genuinely. I don’t know them at all … I was shocked when I woke up this morning."
I guess it all makes us feel better to know that the swank set has to live like the rest of us in Regularville every now and then. I will admit to having been stuck in waiting rooms in which I had two choices of what to look at - a copy of a supermarket gossip rag or the back of my hand, and I chose the Enquirer. So I am familiar with a column in there called something like "They're Just Like Us!" in which we see pictures of Denise Richards pushing a grocery cart around the BiSoLo or the guy who played Urkel having his car emissions inspected. We see that and we feel better.
And then we get in line at the Try'N'Save or the emissions station.
And we say, "Did I do that?"