Guilty Pleasures

This week I did something I'm utterly ashamed of. I secretly ordered "Life with My Sister Madonna" by Ernest Hemingway -oops, make that Christopher Ciccone. In all fairness, I held out as long as I could. I tried to divert my attention by reading actual literature like "A Thousand Splendid Suns" and Cormac McCarthy novels, but every once in a while we all need a no-brainer book, and this definitely fits the bill.

The saddest part is, I'm totally enthralled by this book. Despite the fact that there are no new amazing revelations about Madonna (she's worth billions and is a raging bitch - who knew?) he does reveal a lot about the drug habits of the stars (loving it) including the time he did cocaine with Naomi Campbell, Kate Moss, Courtney Love and Donatella Vercace after the funeral of Gianni Vercace (classy!).

In my defense, the summer television line up has been less than stellar. I can only take so much of "Million Dollar Listing" before I'm ready to throw a brick at the television. At least "Entourage" started last night, so I can put down the trashy books and focus on the trashy shows -at last. And, speaking of trash, last night I also tried to watch the Video Music Awards on MTV. Holy crap, can you say hot train wreck? It might have been the most poorly produced live television show in history. Britney Spears acted like a High School freshman running for Secretary (all giggles and rushing through her speech at breakneck speed). What happened to the days when the show would be opened by Duran Duran and Huey Lewis and the News would be sitting in the audience drinking wine coolers in their ridiculous neon blazers? I remember anxiously waiting to see if chubby Janet or skinny Janet (Jackson) was going to show - or if Courtney Love would be coherent. Sadly this time around, when the nominees and subsequent winners were announced, I found myself repeating the word "WHO?" and realized that I am just old, old, old. 

-Val