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Wednesday, July 13, 2005

Bennifer II

I'm nosey. It's true. It's always been an important characteristic of the being that is McReadie. I spent much of my primary school career perfecting the art of reading upside down so that I could sneak a peak at documents on my teacher's desk. By secondary school, my skills had been perfected, and I've continued to practice them ever since.

I used to justify such activity as part of my preparation for a career in journalism. An ability to snoop is clearly an important skill for any journo.

What became clear in my early twenties, however, is that I had trouble exploiting the fruits of my nosiness. That, for the record, is not a good quality in a journo, hence my reincarnation as a namby-pamby writer-editor working on healthcare topics.

Anyways, my nosiness remains even if an ability to exploit it is not part of my makeup. As a result, I enjoy gossip to an extent that I find a little repulsive.

My shame at my enjoyment of gossip means that I find myself unable to purchase tabloid newspapers. The embarrassment is too great, and I tell myself that I don't want to encourage an industry that makes money off our sick interest in the details of people's private lives.

Trouble is, there is an easy and secretive away round this - a way to maintain the moral highground while digging in the gutter for gossip. It is, my friend, the Internet.

I love the Internet for so many reasons. I love the way that it allows people who wouldn't otherwise know one another to make important connections. The trivia buff in me loves the way it helps me to find out stuff I wouldn't be able to find out anywhere else. I love the way I can read about, taking something at "random", the results of the day's stage in the Tour just a few minutes after the stage has finished.

These are all respectable things I like about the Internet. But, dammit, there's a darker side to my love of the 'net. No, it's not porn. No - it's the way it allows me to indulge my inherent nosiness with no embarrassment.

See, I struggle to buy a copy of the National Enquirer in my local newsagent. But looking at news from the National Enquirer on the Internet - no such problem! No public shame!

The recent marriage of Bennifer II - that would be the Seems-Like-A-Nice-Girl Alias star Jennifer Garner and I-Should-Hate-You-But-Dammit-You're-Funny-And-Don't-Seem-To-Take-Yourself-Too-Seriously Ben Affleck - has brought this issue into clear focus. I admit it: I wanted to know about this whole relationship. My love for Alias is such that I felt the need to know the details of something which clearly is none of my damn business.

Several Google searchs later, and I'd read about where the ceremony was held, what they were wearing, and got all emotional over the fact that the ceremony was apparently officiated over by everyone's favourite Spy Daddy, The Lovely Mr Victor Garber.

I tell you: I'm truly ashamed at my level of interest in the proceedings. Just because these people are in the public eye does not mean their private lives should be. I realise that.

Each time I use the 'net to dig up grubby gossip, I swear it's the last time. So, here, I'm telling you, it's over. Hold me to it.

Oh, but, hang on, The Lovely Vince Vaughn is apparently getting close to The Lovely Jennifer Aniston! OK, so I'll just read about this... Yeah, sure, last time. I swear.


  • At 1:08 PM, Blogger Barbara L. said…

    Don't feel ashamed of yourI am the same way:-) I actually subscribe to US magazine, and in any given week I'm also buying Star and In Touch. If it has a particularly juicy about which hollywood starts have cellulite or the best/worst beach bodies, I'll also buy National Enquirer as well.

    By the way, I heard that SpyDaddy brought a "friend" to the ceremony. So I guess this "friend" was special enough to be the only other guest to attend. Any idea who this "friend" is? And am I reading into things too much to wonder if "friend" code word for boyfriend/partner?

  • At 1:08 PM, Blogger Barbara L. said…

    yikes, sorry about the typos in my last post.

  • At 6:36 PM, Blogger McReadie said…

    Hi Barbara,

    Thanks for your comments lately - I've been a bit slow in replying, I'm afraid...

    Ah, what a relief to find someone so open about their need for gossip. See, you're obviously a few steps ahead of me on this path. I'm still in denial. You, on the other hand, have embraced your Inner Nosy Person, and are willing to display this aspect of your persona. I salute you for that. Maybe in time - with work - I can get to where you are :)

    I'm kinda freaked out by your thoughts on Spy Daddy - because it's like you're reading my mind here. Report I read said "Garber's unidentified friend" and I too immediately thought "ah, that's code for boyfriend if ever I heard it". I attempted to engage my best friend and fellow Alias fan in this debate, but he was having none of it (what is it with men and an inability to gossip?)

    Of course, my interpretation could be influenced by the rather active thread on Internet Movie Database debating our lovely Spy Daddy's sexuality. That thread does, I have to say, make me uncomfortable but - in the style of every good hypocrite - I felt the need to glance at it. Rest assured I'm filled with self-hatred.

    I have to say, I'm increasingly assuming he's gay, just because he seems like such a lovely, kind, caring, dapper, well dressed kinda man. And there aren't too many of them around who are straight. (More's the pity).

    Take care,

    PS. Also because I get the impression that, at a push, he could tap dance, and I once spent a long time attempting to convince a friend of mine who loves Kevin Spacey that straight men don't tap dance. Should I ever write a film, that's gonna be the title: "Straight Men Don't Tap Dance." The film itself will have nothing to do with the title, but I thought it too good a title to throw away.

  • At 4:51 PM, Blogger Fizzwhizz said…

    Oh stop worrying about it and just enjoy the glory that is the Enquirer. These people are paid millions for being celebrities so why be embarrassed about snooping into their 'private' lives? it's all a bloody game anyway. If they don't like it, they can retire and go do a normal job like mine - no one cares who my boyfriend is, and that's coz I don't grant interviews to FHM magazine about what I like to do in bed, or send out press releases when I choose to adopt an African baby whose parents have died of AIDS. In the meantime, there's no need to be embarrassed about the age-old entertainment of looking at what rich actresses are wearing and wondering if blokes are gay.


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