You know what I love? When celebrities insist that they're just like you and me. You know, when they tell us that off the red carpet, they're all about sweatpants and beer and Cheetos and reality TV, which we all know is (coming from everyone who does not have the first name Britney and the last name Spears) a big fat lie.
The best is when a supermodel makes this claim, and says stupid things like oh, I just hate exercise and oh, I just love slumming around in jeans from Target and eating nachos and oh, I like totally have stretch-marks when we all know that she a) gets two of her six nannies to mind the children while she spends six hours per day with her personal trainer, b) wears $600 jeans hand-stitched by Tibetan monks and only eats twigs chased with grass smoothies, and c) thinks that a stretch-mark is that knee-burn you get from your yoga mat after that personal trainer makes you hold the Snake too long (ohmigod is Snake, like, supposed to stretch THAT part?).
Puh-leeze.
