I get a lot of hate mail. As an entertainment blogger, I make it my MO to make fun of celebrities. Most of the time I keep it light and funny but sometimes I kick them when they are down. It usually doesn’t matter too much, if you have enough money you are always going to win. So I don’t usually feel too guilty. I stay away from trainwrecks like Britney Spears and Lindsay Lohan. Their lives have evolved into some thing sadder than the fluffernutter articles I regularly put out into cyberspace.
My writing results in one of four reactions.
1) I get a ton of readers. The meaner, snarkier, more willing to call someone out on their BS I am, the more readers I get.
2) Readers love me. I say what they are thinking! We get it, we connect. This is why I write.
3) Readers hate me. We all have our favorite celebrities and varying degrees of loyalty to them. When readers leave me hateful comments or send me angry messages on Facebook, it makes me sad. I’m so sensitive! That’s why I write about celebrities instead of trying to be one! My publisher and other writers love hate comments. They love the challenge, they love the back and forth. I’ve been called every name in the book and maybe I deserve it…but I hate reading it and it’s slowly getting to me. I have had to take breaks from reading comments in the past, so that I don’t ruin my day.
4) I’ve gotten chastised by certain celebrity handlers and once in blue, by the celebrities themselves.
LeAnn Rimes tweeted about me. Tammy Lynn Michaels-Etheridge wrote me a poem and threatened to mail her her thong. PR people for Real Housewives and even State Senators have told me to cut it out and not all cute like Full House Uncle Joey style. Like stop. Now. Stop now or someone is going to call a lawyer kind of stop.
“That’s great!” is the usual reaction that people give me when I tell them how much I have pissed someone famous off. “You’re going to be the next Perez Hilton! This could be your break.” Only it never is my break and I lack the type of follow through needed. I could have jumped harder on LeAnn, could have ridden her like a pony into the sunset of 15 minute infamy. But that’s not really what I want to be known for. It isn’t who I think I am. When I’m caught up in the moment and I write something that makes me laugh so hard I do a spit take, I put it out there. I want the world to see it and laugh with me, even if we are laughing at someone else.
My latest mini-celeb showdown is with Nikki from the first season of Showtimes “The Real L Word.” When previewing the show, I threw in this two liner just for fun.
This year is going to kick last year’s butt. Gone are the older, mature partners in anorexia and life (Sorry Jill! You aren’t gay! Sorry Nikki, you’re boring!) [Source]
You know what’s not fun? That Nikki actually read it. I have an unread Facebook message from her sitting in my inbox. She wrote in the subject line, “The boring anorexic married to “not gay” Jill.” Ouch. I’m a bitch.
I can’t bring myself to read it. I can’t read it because I feel bad that I hurt her feelings and because I can’t give her what she wants, which is probably an apology. I can’t give it because I’m not sorry, I mean it. Maybe I can’t read it because my reaction to her hate mail says too much about me and what I’m capable of. A woman who doesn’t know me is making me face the fact that I frequently dance across the line between funny and cruel and have surprisingly little remorse for it.
Maybe she’s right and maybe…just maybe…she needs a sandwich.