I don't follow Hollywood types at all. I never go to movies anymore. I rarely watch TV programming that is not sports-related, and gossip magazines were strictly my grandmother's territory. And she's not around anymore.
So, I just found out that our dear Dodger devotee and fanatical baseball fan, Alyssa Milano, got hitched a couple of weeks ago. Who knows how long it would have taken me to discover that if I didn't have a link to her blog right on my damn site? I guess I've got to actually click on my own links once in a while.
So, this is a heavy duty bummer, of the sort that has absolutely no impact on my life at all, since I am 100 percent, happily, happily, happily married (did I mention, happily, dear?).
But, still, Alyssa, why do you want to go and do that to me? And an agent? You married an agent? Yuck.
But this is the worst part: Her new husband is a Yankee fan.
This is totally unacceptable. There are certain deal-breakers in a relationship for me. Cheating. Criminal activity. Discovering Celine Dion CDs in the car. But above all, there is open Yankee-rooting. Hell, I'd even overlook certain misdemeanors before I'd accept shacking up with a Yankee fan.
Alyssa giddily speculates on what would happen if the Yankees and Dodgers reach the World Series this year. Oh, tee-hee. What an amusing quandary. Ms. Milano, or Mrs. Bugliari, or whatever your name is now, this is not a joking matter. If you actually made the mistake of marrying a Yankee fan, I hope you're not going to let him in the house for the entire postseason. That is an absolute must. He can sleep in the yard, and he only gets fed when a Dodger hits a home run.
And, for God's sake, don't ever let him try to convert you.
I will not be happy unless I hear there are some knock-down, drag-out fights between the two of you, and that those fights came about because he said he loved the Yankees and you whacked him with your 14-inch Los Angeles Dodgers art-glass table lamp (available at the Dodgers shop now!). You must tell him on a daily basis why the Dodgers are better than the Yankees. I'll be happy to send you a lengthy list of reasons.
(*Sigh*) Where did we go wrong, Alyssa? Where? Things were going so well.