So, yesterday I was skimming through one of those trashy magazines that you so often find in the waiting rooms of doctors offices, except I was at home and I happened upon an issue on my coffee table, strategically (or not) left out by my wife. It was open to a page claiming celebrities are just like “us,” whoever “us” is… Now, allegedly, this publication thinks that Tom Cruise and Leonardo DiCaprio are just like me, but I can assure you—they most certainly are not. I considered this, and then I realized something astounding. Tom Cruise and Leonardo DiCaprio together on the same page is interesting. Tom Cruise and Leonardo DiCaprio on the same page, being compared to me is ironic.

Here’s why:

Aside from the fact that both of these gentlemen are highly esteemed, well respected (well, semi-well respected… perhaps 100% respected pre-couch surfing incident) actors, I recognized that they each also have something else in common. No, it’s not that they’re both millionaires. Is it just me, or do you also feel like every other movie either of these guys do has a sex scene in it? Not just a sex scene, but a sex scene involving themselves. Level with me on this one—am I wrong? Vanilla Sky… Titanic… Jerry Maguire… The Departed… Eyes Wide Shut… The Beach… I mean, come on, need I name more? So, I’m going to make an assumption, and wildly propose that these dudes get laid regularly, both fictitiously and in real life! …Well, pre-couch surfing incident… Anyway, they have a lot of sex. My point? To my knowledge, neither of these A-list contenders have, or have had, or have been treated for erectile dysfunction. So… I mean, yeah, I may be dashingly handsome, have a beautiful wife, play with my kids, eat bagels, and wear baseball caps, too, but… I have overcome; I have conquered!

Tom and Leo ain’t got nothin’ on me. Albeit, I do appreciate the suggestion!

Lots of people have been complaining for a long time about how much they dislike Twitter, about how inane it is that anyone would think that what they ate for breakfast or the fact that they just cut their toenails was important and must know info for someone else.  I was not one of those people.

I found it amusing that weather boob Al Roker got flak for taking a picture of the jury he was serving on, in the jury room and posting it on his Twitter page. I was happy to find out that Martha Stewart’s neighbors down the street, the Steinhart’s just had a baby camel born at their place. Twitter informed me that Ellen DeGeneres doesn’t wear nail polish, Ryan Seacrest is planning a bachelor party for a friend and Dog Whisperer, Cesar Millan feels that,“The energy you’re projecting internally is the message you’re sending to your dog.”

When porn star and now legitimate actress Sahsa Gray exclaimed on her Twitter page, “Whoa! Too much to handle,” I was dying to know what or who she was talking about. I would mindlessly and happily check out the tweets of politicians and writers along with those of Tony Hawk, John Cleese, Sean Diddy Combs and yes, even Tony Danza. I’d check almost daily to find out how they were doing and just to make sure they were okay.

Then it happened.

At 1:43 yesterday, I somehow wandered onto the tweet of Kirstie Alley and from that moment on I will never view Twitter quite the same way. This is what I read:

“Although no one has asked, I like this new name for a vagina…A POLLY WOG..yes I tried that term out today and got good feed back…YOU?”

That was one Twitter too many for me. It conjured up images that should have been left unconjured. Why did she need to try out that term?  And who gave her positive feedback anyway? I now only view the tweets of family, friends, and my followers — staying close to home and no longer exploring to find out what, say, David Hasselhoff or Newt Gingrich are doing for fear that I will be disappointed or worse, disgusted.

Thanks for ruining Twitter for me Kirstie Alley. Thanks!

Image: Absent Without Leave Blog