Getting In Touch with Star for US, OK! ?

By: LOUISE ESOLA - Staff Writer | Friday, April 21, 2006 10:37 PM PDT ∞

I am so happy for Tom and Kate, who welcomed into this world their new baby girl. I wonder, where are they registered for baby gifts? I also think Jessica needs to get back with Nick, who's now dating girls who, under some lights and computerized altering of photos, actually do resemble his former wife. And, man, I wish Lionel would tell his daughter Nicole to stop wearing those big Jackie O glasses. They like, totally take over her face.

Hello, my name is Louise and I am a celebrity tabloid addict.

This is my drug of choice.

Like most users, I conceal my addiction from my immediate family, namely my husband, who will now know after reading this that it was not only apples and chicken breast I purchased at the grocery store last week, but a few celebrity tabloid magazines as well: Star, US, OK!, and In Touch (with useless journalism?).

Like addicts of all vices, I have trouble turning my head and saying "NO!" when in line at the grocery store checkout, where the magazines grace the racks alongside the lint rollers, lighter fluid, and Rolaids.

The headlines are enticing: "Britney gains another 3.03 ounces!" "Mary-Kate Olsen eats!" "Exclusive! Batboy to be J. Lo's fourth husband!"

Who can resist such breaking headlines?

I sneak the glossy 'zines onto the conveyer belt, in between the legitimate purchases so they are disguised on the receipt after "Crest toothpaste" and before the real beef. That way my husband, who questions my intelligence every time he finds one crammed between the sophisticated coffee table books, doesn't spot my purchase.

"These are the stupidest magazines ever," he often chides. "How can you be a journalist at a neeeeeewspaper and read this?"

That's why, well, I try to keep things on the down-low.

If he happens to be in the store with me at the time, I premeditate my purchase.

"Shoot, honey, can you grab a jar of Ragu?" I request as the cashier begins scanning the items ---- doot, doot, doot, doot ---- in front of a long line of crabby customers.

He gives me that "not again" roll of the eyes and beelines to aisle 7, as Jessica Simpson and promises of Paris Hilton's newly found cellulite get bumped to the front of the food chain of purchases. Doot.

"Would you like a separate bag for this, miss?"

Sweating, with a jar from Mama's Cucina in his hand, he returns. "Separate bag for what?"

Foiled!

But he'll be happy to know that since I am now writing a column about the matter, the magazines are probably tax-deductible. At least the three I bought this week for official journalistic research are. This is called fact checking, people. I had to make sure I knew who is having a baby, and with whom, who is getting a divorce, who is buying frappuccinos at Starbucks, and who looks really awful in their swim trunks.

Apparently, droves of inquiring minds also want to know. According to a recent Media Post Publications article, three top celebrity magazines have circulations over the million mark and such rags make up more than 30 percent of newsstand revenues.

(By the way, these are the same magazines that informed me that Tom Cruise has really lost it this time.)

The article states that celebrity mags are "flying off the racks" and winding up hidden under the beds of women who do not want their family to know they just had to read the latest in the Brangelina saga.

So what is the allure of celebrity wardrobe malfunctions, best-dressed, worst-dressed and undressed lists, affairs, catfights, and weight-loss secrets of rail-skinny stars who boast speedy metabolisms?

Some readers say that they like the pictures, or they are looking for a photo of a hairstyle or a fashion they want to mimic. Others enjoy reading about celebrity downfalls, which make the average mashed-potatoes-and-gravy life seem more bearable.

I can't speak for everyone, but I'll say that me, personally, I enjoy the, um, well, to be quite frank, um...

Let's just say, to be journalistically accurate, I need to do more research on this.

Doot. Doot. Doot. Doot.

Contact staff writer Louise Esola at lesola@nctimes.com.