by request

listen, i am not proud of how much of my brain space is taken up by entertainment news. you don't have to tell me it's gross, i already know. on the other hand, i will admit that when i got the call (i received a few frantic ones) that anna nicole's life had ended, i already was armed with a vast understanding. no one had to fill me in. i've been following this one. but still, it's gross.

those who know me know that i am sick. those who really know me know the details. every morning i pour a cup of coffee and read blogs.tabloid blogs. i do not run errands after work. no matter what i must be home by 7. we could be all out of paper towels, have no food in the house and i could have developed giant and infected open sores during the course of my day and need to stop at the drugstore for some sort of ointment. do i detour? no! i get my ass on that trolley and am home for my quiet hour to catch up on all i have missed away from my television and computer. there is no talking from 7-8 as i watch the entertainment news.

i will never forget where i was when i heard. i stepped out of work and on to the busy street. i fished through my purse for my phone. i noticed several missed calls from jessica, so i dialed her number.

"anna. nicole. smith. dead."

i lost all control. i was stopped in my tracks. i shouted, i threw up my arms in disbelief. i almost peed in my pants.

"was howard k. stern with her? has larry birkhead made a statement? where's dannilynn?"

jessica told me what she knew so far: anna nicole had collapsed in her hotel room in florida, howard wasn't with her and the baby was in the bahamas. i hung up the phone. my mind was racing. a couple who had been standing nearby when i was on the phone asked me if i was okay. having lost any capabilty for behaving like a normal citizen of the universe and by this point being unable to blink, i blurted out, "anna nicole smith is dead!" i was then met by a worried/scared stare that quickly turned to utter disgust. "i don't know who that is, shit."

that trolley ride home was the longest of my life. i had worked later than usual and would arrive home closer to 7 that under normal circumstances, i was less than comfortable with. given the bomb that had been dropped, my commute was a fidgety one to say the least.

i made it home soon after 7 and without removing my coat and hat and in total and earnest disbelief watched the moving pictures from hollywood, florida.

and so there you have it. my name is emily and i react with gusto to things that i ought to be ignoring. movie stars divorce and i lose my appetite. the famous singer i've never liked is outed for having had a nose job and i have a genuine belly laugh. a no-talent bombshell dies in a hotel suite and i'm up half the night. and just when i have moments of true clarity, when the still, small voice in me whispers the truth,that living life has nothing to do with following the lives of celebrities. when i'm reminded and begin to heed the reality before me that is blessed, precious and fleeting, britney spears shaves her head and i'm back to square one.