I'm loathe to admit it, but yes, Anna Nicole got to me. How could it not? It had everything and then some: sex, money, mystery, drugs, and unending court battles. I haven't seen Greta have so much fun since the Natalie Holloway days.
Larry King (looking very cadaverous) played host to a vast array of characters and charlatans, but by the time of Anna's delayed burial, even Larry looked tired of the whole sordid affair.
Where was Maury when you needed him? He would've settled the paternity circus in one half hour show.
Now I am in Anna Nicole withdrawal, at least until the next court date.
We have a war going on and all the media can do is fall over itself to cover the funeral of a drug addicted, C-celebrity (and this doesn't even take into account Britney's woes).
Clearly, I've made a mess of my life. I never abused my kids. Hell, they even profess to like me. I'm not high on crack. One Bud Light puts me under the table. I'm still married to my first and only husband. Worse still, we sleep together.
I've never done anything in my life, not one single thing, that could even be remotely considered scandalous.
I'm a complete, abject failure.
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