Mad Atoms

I like to go out to really fancy places like clubs or bars and get so drunk that the rational side of my brain collapses and seizes up while I do things like stand on my car and piss myself or try to have sex in a telephone booth. The other people that like to hang out at these places are the paparazzi.

Not that I have any personal beef with them as a whole, but I have a running problem with the pricks at TMZ. Following a famous person, and catching every nuance of their stupid life for millions of bored Americans to watch is a job that’s in demand. I get it. People want to know if Angelina Jolie took a shit or if Britney Spears painted a wall in the Millennium Dance Studio with the blood from her tampon. These are important issues.

What I don’t get is when TMZ morphed from the place to get the latest news on celebrities to the place to see random tawdry young idiots who aren’t even in movies or on TV being wasted as hell in front of Hollywood hotspots. It’s gotten so that a random drunken vagabond like myself can’t act out without worrying that it’ll be the lead story on TMZ that night.

So now I live in fear.

Every time I go out it is like a covert operation where I avoid being filmed by some asshole as I turn into Anna Nicole Smith and scream shit like, “Do you like my body?” while rubbing my vagina. TMZ’s bastardization of anyone willing to act like a fool, especially while intoxicated, is the beginning of the end of fun. Journalists are supposed to be the watchdogs of society, but these guys are hardly journalists and I already have a mother. Speaking of which, when she sees me on the next episode of TMZ while I’m in front of Les Deux while yanking my thong off and throwing it at the idiots filming me as I start peeing, well, let’s just say I’ll enjoy hearing I’m out of the will.