You make me Hello Kitty
Hello Kitty as a verb.
I work on an entertainment tv show. It’s a half hour. There’s a constant editorial give and take about what we report and what we don’t report. I don’t give a sh-t for example about The Bachelor and those Kardashians. I do understand however that my celebrity preferences don’t represent the general viewer.
But on our team, no matter what, no matter how young or old, from the fresh producers in their early 20s to the seasoned ones in their 30s, we all care about Justin Bieber and Selena Gomez. Like, obsessively.
For many it happened after watching Never Say Never and if you haven’t, and if you take an almost religious approach to celebrity gossip, this is mandatory viewing. It’s hilariously amazing. Did I mention I made Jacek watch it on a plane with me last month? He didn’t catch Bieber Fever but he didn’t turn it off either.
My Bieber fascination only kicked in when he became Selena’s boyfriend. Their love makes my life. From the longing looks and their holiday romances, his scrawny ass arms and legs lifting her out of the water because They’re Having The Time of Their Lives, to the most recent - booking out all of the Staples Centre so that he could surprise her with a private viewing of Titanic (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) - it’s like watching every dating cliché come to life mid-puberty, a John Hughes movie without the irony, a Jennifer Aniston romantic comedy without the desperation, at once embarrassing but also really, really funny and adorable. A rare combination that can elicit from me a Hello Kitty reaction: when I see them, walking on the beach, kissing with the wind in their hair, squinting as if they can see their future, all I want to do is cover my face with my hands and giggle, and then make a peace sign.
They make me Hello Kitty.
Here are Selena and Justin in Malibu on Friday.