 In the light of the $78-million price tag attached to the royal wedding, mainly attributed to British taxpayers, and due to its potential cost of $47 billion to Britain’s economy, I must state the obvious: It’s entirely unfair that celebrities have to pay for their own weddings, and dare I say, their own homes too.
Now, before you get your knickers in a bunch, allow me to explain…
As with many markets around the world, the British have been subjects of an historically feeble economy. High unemployment, a weak consumer, and rising inflation, all crave one thing: a strong investment.
 The other night, much of the world was oblivious to the horrible suffering endured by 1 billion people, and I'm not talking about the poor and disenfranchised. I’m talking about the estimated worldwide audience that watched the Oscars telecast … In hopes of conquering such strife, back in February, I called for a metaphoric colon cleanse of society - “ Fodder-Free February.” The mission was a month-long moratorium on famous people who are well suited for passing through our bowels. It would be a month free of banal celebrity gossip. (Luckily, I chose the shortest month of the year.)
 My name is Dahlia Kurtz and I have a Snooki-Paris-Kardashian problem.
What does this mean? Well, in layman terms, it means I have a crappy problem. I just can’t stop talking and writing about these human phosphates: fillers full of fillers, void of substance, whose final outcome serves mainly to increase bacterial growth.
You see, last week, when Snooki became a New York Times bestseller, I realized something – I actually aspire to be like her. It scared the Snook right out of me.
But it is Washington Post columnist Dana Milbank whom I have to thank for inspiring me to finally acknowledge and deal with this issue, in perhaps the best way possible.
 I found the 2011 Golden Globe Awards highly offensive, and I'm not just talking about Natalie Portman's dress.
Honestly, I have only myself to blame for this. Why did I have to watch? At least I came to my senses about an hour in, when I turned the channel. (Thank you, Weather Network.)
Still, even though I didn’t watch the full four-hour telecast, I watched a couple hours of the pre-show – practically a week in Hollywood years.
I should have learned my lesson last year, after taking in sub-idiotic red carpet exchanges, including:
 Perhaps even more elusive than the cure for the common cold, I have discovered the cure for homelessness. Not only that, but it will make a lot of people rich, and I’m not just talking about the homeless. Face it, society does not like homeless people. They are sore-filled eyesores who waste space and sleep in waste. They’re dirty, stinky, and sometimes scary. Walking portraits of our worst fears. Toronto’s new mayor, Rob Ford, says, “We can’t leave people on the sidewalks freezing to death.” No kidding. Have you ever tried to scrape frozen trash off your garbage bin in winter? Imagine how difficult it would be to get a frozen, dead homeless person off the sidewalk.
 The Little Couple: Bill & Jen If you haven’t already watched The Little Couple on TLC, allow me to explain the brilliant concept behind this show: It focuses on the everyday life of a dwarf couple. If you haven’t already watched shows on TLC, allow me to explain the brilliant concept behind the network: it focuses on super tall, super skinny or super obese people, and, of course, lest we forget, super fertile, and super medically-induced fertile people. But mostly it’s either about people who make cakes, cupcakes or confection - little people who make cakes, cupcakes or confection - or little people in general. I say, enough with the over-tall and extra-small. It is time for average. Allow me to present my official pitch to TLC, The Medium Couple: starring, Dahlia Kurtz and Launy Schwartz.
 Your poster is everywhere. Three thousand people are screaming for you, throwing their barely-there clothes at you.
You’re high, not only from the excitement, but the drugs too – drugs you got for free like heroin, cocaine, ecstasy, and plain-old marijuana.
They think you’re a rock star. You forget you’re faking it.
Some people became famous by pretending to be famous. “Tyler,” a former male supermodel-turned actor, recalls his days “dancing for dollars” in Milan.
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