Depending on how you define moderately, of course.
So, when I was in 7th grade, Tiger Beat, or some such teen idol magazine did a preview on the next new hot up and coming heart throbs. I cut two of the pictures out of the magazine and began parading them around town telling my friends these two photographed heart throbs were my cousins.
My friends: "Kristen, your cousins are in The Outsiders?"
My friends: "Your cousins. The models. The ones you showed us pictures of. They're in that new movie, The Outsiders? That's so cool. Your family must be so proud."
Me: "What photos?"
You're following my approach here, yes? Just act like it never happened. Sort've like a voluntary black-out. Who me, wha?
Some of those very friends will likely read this blog and feel extremely vindicated all these years later. So there you go, friends. I just let you off the hook. Indeed, it seems, I lied.
But why? Seriously. What the heck? Was it just an adolescent weird thing? I mean, who tells there friends such a strange lie? And yes, that's your cue to post to my blog and confess some equally moderately mortifying thing you did in your adolescence. So go ahead and tell me...er...us. You'll feel so much better. I know I do, assuming some of you post your equally embarrassing stories. If nobody does, I might just delete this post and act like it was never here...
The inspiration for this blog hit me in the shower. I just love Rob Lowe. I've always loved him. From the second I saw him in Tiger Beat, I cut out his bo-hunky little face and crowned him "my cousin." I watched The Outsiders at least fifty times. I thought the name Soda Pop was so cool and could not understand for the life of me why the Greasers could not overcome the indignation brought upon them by lame Leif Garrett and the Socs.
As the years passed, I watched adoringly as "cousin Rob" starred in St. Elmo's Fire and About Last Night. I believed he and Demi shared a Luke & Laura-like love.
It was bigger than love, even. I started liking Demi as much as I liked Rob for a second or two in those days, somewhere deep in the recesses of my psyche (where I was storing the memory of lying to my friends, most likely).
Which brings me to why this rant got started in the first place. Tonight, so I've heard, they're (**spoiler alert) killing "my cousin" off of Brothers and Sisters.
But why? Why must it always end so tragically? Can't he just win an election and be forced to relocate to Washington D.C.? Or, if it must be tragic, can't it just be a really ugly Kitty/Robert divorce? That's sad, people. Divorce is certainly tragic. Must they, MUST THEY kill him?
Brothers and Sisters, you're forcing Parenthood to be my new favorite family dramedy, and Parks and Recreation my new sitcom of choice. I realized in the shower today, what started with a spark from a photo in a heart throb magazine all those years ago has blossomed into my longest lasting celebrity crush (Shaun Cassidy excluded, obvi). I've been going steady with Rob Lowe since 1983, and not in a Rosie O'Donnell/Tom Cruise kinda way. I'm clear about the contradiction in the crush, I'm not using the crush as a diversion tactic to boost my ratings, I'm just telling it like it is.
When I was 12, I saw a photo of Rob Lowe in a magazine that inspired me to lie to my friends that he was my cousin. And I still think he's a hottie. WTF is up with that?