At a dinner party tonight — we were hosting — I noticed a muted conversation going on between the intensely intelligent, analytical D. and his stunning girlfriend K. She was hunching her shoulders a little and seemed reluctant. D. glanced at me and said, “We’re talking about [a popular reality TV show].”
I was well into my mojito and feeling merry*. “Oh, don’t worry,” I assured her, assuming some sheepish pop-culture preoccupation on her part, “I’m obsessed with the whole Britney and Kevin divorce thing**. I was thinking about them while I stood in the shower, and then thinking, Why the hell am I thinking about them? You can’t get much lower than that.” I think my husband actually cringed.
The Harvard-educated woman sitting across from me started to say, “What is the latest–?” and I would have been glad to answer when D. interrupted.
“It’s not that. The [guy from popular reality show] is stalking her.”
Ah, that’s right, I am living in Los Angeles. This is reality as done by Los Angeles.
I said, “Oh.”
And K. protested that ‘stalker’ is a strong word, and not accurate. D. cheerfully insisted otherwise.
*three words: pathetic. alcohol. tolerance.
** I actually deleted a blog entry on the subject, because I read this interview and thought, Wow, this guy is just too ridiculous and deluded, it’s like shooting fish in a barrel, and meanwhile the Democrats were taking the Senate (!) as well as the House (expected), and I felt like I should be turning my mind to more important things. Which, as you can see, I am not.