My Preciousssssss

I used to have a bit of a, um, addiction to celebrity gossip. Hot damn, I loved it all: the feuds, the speculations, Brangelina (omg, could that little Shiloh get any cuter?! A pirate sword accessory? Adorable!) and the blind items, oh the blind items! I would spend a looooooooooot of time reading Gawkers' blinds, never really caring all that much who they were about (except for Coke Mom -- who art thou, Coke Mom?) more just curious about the quirks of the obscenely rich. 


I guess it is worth noting that I was going through a fairly heavy bout of depression which certainly didn't help (I was also addicted to Ghost Whisperer -- Jennifer Love Hewitt, that narcissistic drama-queen, bless her little heart) but as I managed to cut that shit out as I got stronger. 


It has been about three months since I read any celebrity gossip and like any good recovering addict I think I've beaten the beast; I've been feeling so confident of my success that today I read just a little gossip round-up on Jezebel which brings me to the best part of my day: According to a "source" close to his assistant, John Travolta has 102 hairpieces in different lengths, colors and sizes, in case he gains or loses weight. They have their own refrigerated room in his house. And, (here is the kicker, a statement that I will revisit every time I feel down and need a lil' pick-up) "He likes to visit and pet them once in a while. They're his little treasures." 


Little treasures. Glorious.