True Hollywood Story, Girls of the Playboy Mansion, The Hills and America’s Next Top Model, I realized I had become a TV tabloid bulimic. As if Velcroed to the couch with my thumb superglued to the remote, hours, days, even weeks had passed as I absorbed worthless knowledge on everything from Hugh Hefner’s girlfriends and Lara Flynn Boyle’s struggle to success to Navan man Pierce Brosnan. Tacky sayings such as, ‘This is where the magic happens’ and ‘Next on the E! True Hollywood Story’, began to penetrate my brain. I started to feel that my mind was about to explode into tiny pieces, which would splatter across my four walls and remain unnoticed for months. Maybe next door’s cat would discover me? Then again, he’d probably turn his nose up at me, and disown me like everyone else. I then dreamt everyone from Cameron Diaz to the not-so-newly divorced Jessica Simpson had all started laughing at me. In one dream I was watching the news. A massive tower block was collapsing after a terrorist attack.
