Beyond there being a general lack of salacious celebrity fodder today, I’ve lost interest in the drama simply because I stopped caring. When I found out that Kristen Stewart had cheated on Robert Pattinson, my knee-jerk response was, “So?” I mean, who gives a crap what Kristen Stewart puts in her mouth, unless it’s a joint—in which case, hey girl hey!
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In a flash, it’s six hours later and I know the words to all of One Direction’s songs and I hate Finchel and I think bowties are cool and I want Sherlock to shag the bejesus out of John Watson. I look out my window at the people having fun on the city streets and I pity them.