In my brain, there is only so much room for pop culture crap. And since it can get so easily flooded with useless information, I have to be particular about what I allow my brain to process. As of April 25th 2011, the things most important to me are The Real Housewives franchise, anything and everything pertaining to Lindsay Lohan’s very sad life (this includes the terrifying reality show Living Lohan), the whereabouts of forgotten star Taryn Manning, C-list gay reality stars that are featured on Bravo (this is a very small list and therefore doesn’t take up much space), any instance in which Mary-Kate Olsen is letting words form and come out of her mouth on camera, anytime Mary-Kate Olsen is seen breathing and wearing an Alia gown to the bodega, the legendary short-lived reality show Hey Paula in which Paula Abdul’s painkiller consumption was vehemently denied and then inexplicably broadcasted for all of America to see, the life story of Anna Nicole Smith and her cousin Shelley, and last but certainly not least, any TV series, movie, or musical artist from the 90s that invokes heavy nostalgia about my childhood.
That’s it. I can’t fit anymore stuff. I’m at capacity. There’s no vacancy at my pop culture hotel. You’re telling me there’s a book about a wizard going to a school called Hogwarts? Sorry, I can’t seem to fit that in. The Simple Life: Season 5 just premiered and I’d rather make that a priority. There’s a book series about vampire Mormons? No thanks. The existence of a person named Taylor Momsen? I can’t hear about it. Sorry! I’m just so picky about what I choose to obsess over in pop culture. I’ve never read a Harry Potter book or seen the movies, but I can list my top ten favorite Olsen Twins candids. I’ve never seen an episode of most popular television shows on the air right now, but I can recite any line ever uttered by Mary Cherry on the forgotten show Popular.
What can I say? I like what I like. I see something that interests me in pop culture and I commit to it. I can tell you what doesn’t interest me though: The Royal Wedding. What is it? Why is it here? Why is it taking up space on my favorite blogs? Here’s what I’ve been able to deduce so far from this whole shitshow of an event. Some balding British guy who peaked when he was 16 (#dark) is marrying a woman named Kate Middleton. OK. When is the caring supposed to begin? I know it’s an American tradition to obsess over royalty, but I’ve never actually understood why. Why can’t we just focus on our own royalty: Fast food, texting, and aging white women who talk about blowjobs? I was fine with that. Why’d we have to go get all crazy over another country’s drama?
I won’t be watching their wedding because I don’t know Prince William and Kate Middleton personally and I wasn’t invited. It would feel like a scene out of Wedding Crashers if I actually did participate in the ceremony. Instead, I’ll just stick to what I know: celebrity drug problems, gay drama, and Lindsay Lohan’s court outfits.