It seems like I use my column to always tell you things that I care about. As nice as that is, I, like you, have a pile of things I don’t care about. This week I’m choosing to air it all out.
Number one, Kate Middleton had a baby! I don’t care! I’m happy that a child has entered this planet with 10 fingers and 10 toes, don’t get me wrong. But I don’t care that it weighed 8 pounds 6 ounces and it’s third in line for the crown. I was 12 pounds 8 ounces and I’m third in line to order my coffee. If I was Prince Harry, I’d keep taking my clothes off, partying with naked swimsuit models and become a Royal embarrassment so my nephew would constantly have to defend my actions. Hell, I do that now and the closest I’ll ever be to becoming royalty is being born in a place called Queens.
Number two, Kim Kardashian’s baby North West! Really? North! All that money and fame and the best possible baby name you can come up with is North? I thought they were famous for being famous, not famous for being morons (although, that’s just the way it’s worked out). I know it sort of sounds like I care on this one, but don’t be fooled; I don’t. But the mere fact that Kim Kardashian and Kayne West had a child together, then gave it a stupid name like North, only puts that child one place ahead of me in the coffee line. Why not just name the child "Mouth Breather" or "Slack Jawed" if you just want to be out and out cruel. I swear in a world of over indulged and entitled people this kid is going to be queen long before Prince Harry will ever be king.
Number three, the next wardrobe malfunction! Not the last one, because frankly I can’t remember it. It probably had something to do with Miley Cyrus and her achy breaky lack of under garments or some actress wearing a shear top to some public function. But moving forward -- I DON’T CARE! If you want to show the world your private parts, then leave the house naked. If you are still not getting enough attention, then leave a restaurant naked and throw up on a child. Because all you’re trying to do is keep your face in front of a camera so you can complain about how much the paparazzi ruin your life. But then you’ll show up to a Christening in booty hugger shorts and a shear top, and then wonder why the world can’t stand you. For the record, I can’t stand you! But, not because of the last ridiculous outfit you donned in public, rather because you’re a land mass with hair and a waste of space.
Number four and perhaps the biggest Š Can someone tell me what a Real Housewife is? There are 50 of these shows on TV. I appreciate the want and desire to check out and be entertained, but that’s why the universe gave us Canadians, Alex Trebek, Celine Dion, Mike Myers, Bachman Turner Overdrive; we don’t need Real Housewives. See the funny thing is, for the most part these women aren’t even real housewives, at least not by any kind of standard I put into be a housewife. My mom, she was a housewife, she raised her babies, changed diapers, did the grocery shopping, chaperoned school trips and so on. A Real Housewife of say New Jersey wears yoga pants, doesn’t do yoga and complains about how she doesn’t have time to do yoga because of her busy recording schedule. A real housewife has a hard job with more responsibility in one hour than these "TV" Housewives have in a month. Again, I understand the reasoning behind watching these programs; just don’t expect me to care -- I think that’s a fair deal. What the hell is up with that?