An Admission, First of Many

I’m not usually one to go all goopy over celebrities, but apparently I’m going through a phase. The most horrifying evidence of this is the following: I sat down at the computer this morning for my Sunday review of washingtonpost.com, scrolled right past Campaign 2006, Joel Achenbach, and Gene Weingarten, and went straight for “Britney Baby Does Have Name” in the Entertainment section.

(For the uninformed, that name is probably Jayden James, but could be Sutton Pierce – it seems the golden couple either has yet to decide or has yet to admit. Both are Malibu-fabulous, obviously, but my vote is for Jayden James. Because J-Fed sounds way cooler than S-Fed.)

At the bottom of the story, there were links to both Britney’s and Kevin’s website. Even I already know too much about her, so I headed straight to K-Fed online. Much to my surprise, I found that he’s kinda, um, compelling.

Mainly, it’s the stare. (Sharp. Deep.) But then there’s the flaming drink, the loosened tie, and white button-down with the sleeves rolled up a little. (Note to all men: roll up your sleeves. EVERY GIRL I KNOW thinks this is hot. It takes two seconds to do and anyone can pull it off. You’re welcome.) When the music kicks in, I expect to be totally unthrilled. But I’m not. It’s 12:30 and I’ve been listening to “Privilege” on repeat since 11:51.

I know.