The Other Man

A few weeks ago, I heard Kelly Atchison make a brave admission on The Hawk's Drive at Five. Her unabashed honesty has prompted me to stand up and confess to the same thing.

I have had a relationship with a man named Perez for about three years, and though not many people knew about it at first, I have come to learn that lots of others have become infatuated with him as well. Millions, in fact.

You see, Perez is Perez Hilton. He's a formerly-chubby (now remarkably svelt), sometimes-pink-haired, sometimes-green-haired, flamboyant, trouble-making, no-holds-barred gossip-monger. His online blog started about four years ago, and since has become one of the most visited sites on the internet. Literally. I think he averages about seven million hits per day.

That is why I'm no longer ashamed to admit that I take his information as gospel truth, whether I should or not; I'm certainly not the only one who does. He's got moles all over Hollywood, much to the chagrin of the celebrities he blogs about, and a movie star can't make a move, steal a kiss, buy a car, or get arrested, without Perez finding out in minutes and posting it online minutes later.

And not just the things you'll hear about on Access Hollywood later that evening. No, no, I'm talking about the indiscretions most celebrity-types really want to keep private. Things he calls "Not-so-blind" items, like which celebrity was seen canoodling in first class on a flight from New York to Los Angeles with a tennis instructor who looked nothing like her well-known husband. And which recently-rehabbed actor was downing scotch alone in the back of his limo after a night of toting a water bottle for show.

It's things like that which set Perez apart from the mainstream entertainment reports. Of course he'll post a play-by-play of last night's Dancing With the Stars, but he's also got the inside track that Mark Steines would give his firstborn to have. He has reliable spies who are willing to spill, based on guaranteed anonymity, little required corroboration, and absolutely no recourse. When actor A and actress B, who have been denying their relationship for months, take a vacation to remote parts of Utah, the waitress who served them lunch can email Perez and tell her story, without a 6-person camera crew from ET showing up and making her sign an exclusivity contract. Or it could be the cleaner at a high-end Malibu obstetrics clinic who confirms the pregnancy of a popular singer. There really isn't any way of validating the information you read, but it's entertaining nonetheless.

Why it's entertaining is something I can't really explain. It's human nature to gossip, and maybe it's easier to gossip about millionaires you'll never meet, than it is to talk about your neighbors and friends. Maybe you thrive on the misery of others. Maybe you're convinced Justin Timberlake is destined to marry you and you're waiting for news about his break-up with Jessica Biel and scheduled flight to Nova Scotia (hypothetically, of course). Everyone has their own reasons, I guess. I think the biggest one for me is the humanity.

Whether or not you're interested in celebrities, chances are, if you watch any television or read any newspapers, you're inundated with information about them anyway. With expensive publicists and PR firms spinning their every action, the seemingly-charmed lives of stars sometimes make me want to throw up (6 million dollars to work on a bad movie for 4 months? Crazy!). But to hear of a big star getting peed on by a dog at the park, or quietly donating a large sum of money to a food bank, or losing their brother to cancer, makes these people seem more human, and reminds people that, though they may be rich and beautiful, they're just regular folks like us.

So chances are, I'm going to continue my relationship with Perez. Where else will I learn such pertinent information as sales figures for Lindsay Lohan's clothing line, Madonna's new relationship, and Mischa Barton's latest rehab stint? Oh that's right, on the national news. Claim you haven't uttered the name Britney Spears in the past 18 months, and I'll call you a liar. A great number of you are just as bad as I am, only Kelly and I have the guts to admit it.

Sure, a large portion of the content on Perez's site is salacious and juvenile. It could also be fairly described as a waste of normally-useful brain cells, I suppose. But you can't convince me it's any worse than a few minutes of X-Box 360, an episode of "My Name is Earl", or any Will Farrell movie. We all have our guilty pleasures.