Am I Really Wondering if Sofia Vergara Cleans Her Own Toilettes?

No, of course she doesn’t, but these are the thoughts that enter my head when I am disinfecting my porcelain commode.

Here’s what I like: sunshine and cold beer.

Here’s what I don’t like: sweating like a 7-11 rotisserie hot dog while scrubbing the tub. Yet I do these tasks…every week.

Clearly I am doing something wrong with my life.

Enter the sensationalized super star thinking. When boring life takes over, I might wonder what J. Lo is up to. Probably having someone else re-apply her lip gloss.

We as a society are pretty obsessed with celebrities.  US Weekly has an entire two-page layout of “Celebrities: They’re Just Like Us.” If you’ve seen this section, it has photos of McDreamy (Patrick Dempsy) paying a parking meter; Jennifer Garner pushing one of her daughters on a swing; and my personal favorite, Kim Kardashian walking with a Starbucks coffee (wtf?).  I have not seen that much photojournalism documenting a person walking since my daughter took her first steps.

Um, let me clue you in US Weekly, Extra!, and other tabloid media – celebrities are NOT like us. Not even a tiny bit.

Do famous people shop at Forever 21 so they can look like other famous people at a fraction of the cost? I think not.  Do movie stars nearly freak out when they misplace the two-for-one granola bar coupon at the Stop N Shop checkout line? I doubt it. Does a starlet wake up in the morning (late) and think, “Oh crap, I forgot to wash little Mable’s uniform. Maybe I can just wrap her sweater around her waist to hide the grape jelly stain. And why do I smell like ginger and feet?” That’s a negative. Hence the fascination.

While we stick these folks in a fishbowl and stare at them like rare birds at the zoo (or rare fish, b/c let’s face it, birds don’t last long under water), another phenomenon takes place as well:

We lay people feel like we actually know the rich and famous?

A few times I have though to myself, “I would like to give Ben Affleck a call and go grab a beer.”  Or, “I wonder if Reese Witherspoon would go get a mani/pedi with me? I bet she would, she seems so nice.” Or, “[insert boisterous laughter] Oh Ellen, I love it when you make people run and Velcro themselves to the wall for an IPad! Pick that guy with a toupee in the third row! Do it! Do it!” She can’t hear me, so why the hell am I yelling?

Oddly, I have never looked at my neighbor down the street and thought any of these things.  And I physically see that old bat everyday!

My mother is also plagued by this celebrity/friend issue. Her people magazine has come every week like clock-work for the past twenty-five years. She sits down, opens it, and then the comments start pouring out like Elizabeth Taylor’s Exs. It has gotten to the point where she has been able to predict celebrity “conspiracy theories” before they even surface in the media. And you know what? She is usually right. If I could teach my mother to blog she could seriously rival Perez Hilton. But no one would get mad at her, she is nice lady.

Do I know these people? Nope. Does my mother, or any other regular old Joe out there? No. Then why do we feel such a connection to them?

I don’t have a friggin’ clue.

But I do have a theory.

Celebrities emulate everything we want in life. A beautiful face, a beautiful body, and what looks like a fun life with parties and cool clothes. It is so easy look at these people up on the screen, the TV, the pages of a magazine and think, “Yes! I do want that!” Especially when you are trying not to burn another Stouffer’s frozen lasagna while paying your overdue cable bill while your child wails in the background she simply will not eat a raspberry – ever!

It is a better life.

But we have our lives – good, bad, and crazy. They have their lives – good, bad, and Gary Busy.

And since we can’t be them, let’s be their imaginary friend.

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