Braingelina (Brangelina on the Brain)

Today, as I was driving (yet again) from Tulsa to Stillwater, I began to think about Brangelina. This happens quite often. Actually, it happens so often that on this particular occasion, I stopped myself and said, "Self? About how much of your time do you spend thinking about Brangelina?" Self reluctantly replied, "20%."

Twenty percent of my time is spent thinking about Brangelina.

This is not okay with me.

You may ask, "Why, Cari? Why do you think about them so much?" Well, here's the answer:

When I was about 10 years old, I wanted to be one of three things: an astronaut, a mob wife, or married to a Kennedy. Unfortunately, even an hour-long trip in the backseat of the family Toyota van would make me so carsick that we'd have to pull over. I saved some money for Space Camp, but when the time came to actually go through with it, I imagined myself having to go through various scientific tests that involved gargantuan amounts of whirling and twirling, and I opted out.

So, that left me with two options. I could be a mob wife, or I could marry a Kennedy. I made sure to tell everyone that I wanted to be a mob wife and not a mob girlfriend. I had watched Goodfellas, and I had it in my head that the girlfriends were not as respectable as the wives. Sure, the wives had to suffer through years of pain, not knowing exactly from where the money was coming, or even knowing that their husbands were cheating on them on a nightly basis, but my mother's Catholic side of the family had prepared me well for handling guilt and martyrdom. Unfortunately, I never realized that the likelihood of actually marrying someone in the mob, while I lived in Stillwater, Oklahoma was increasingly slim.

That's when I decided that I must, must, MUST marry John F. Kennedy, Jr. I was in love with him. When he married Carolyn, I didn't even bat an eyelash. I just thought, "That will never last. She's too cold and stylish. He needs someone that likes tag football and can play with the best of them at Hyannis Port. Carolyn might break a nail. I would break someone's face." Of course, those dreams were crushed with a single phone call. (Yes, I was called by family members when the plane went down...that's how much I loved him.)

So, that led me to find a new husband. I don't know why "finding a husband" was such an important thing to me at the time. Seems a bit strange for a 12-13 year-old to want to be "married" as her occupation, but, alas, that's how it was. I searched and searched far and wide. Zach from Saved By the Bell? No. D-Lister. Brendan Fraser? No staying power.

Then, as if sent straight from the hands of God...William Bradley Pitt came into my life by way of A River Runs Through It. "Who is this golden-haired man? Why is his face so square-like? He resembles Robert Redford. I like Robert Redford, but he's too old. This young man is like a young Robert Redford." My mind was racing. I had to know more, but it was before the days of the internet. So, I quickly made my way to Hastings Entertainment Superstore and typed his name into the overly-large computer search kiosk.

"B-R-A-D P-I-T-T," my little chubby fingers plunked away.

"This actor's latest release is Legends of the Fall," said the overly-large computer search kiosk.
"I shall rent this Legends of the Fall," I whispered, magically to myself.

To make an insanely long story short, let's just cut straight to the insanity. The following describes just how much I love(d) Brad Pitt. My mother still likes to make fun of me for this:

Once, I "watched" Legends of the Fall on a scrambled channel. It's 2 1/2 hours long. I just sat there, staring at the jumbled screen. I could still hear all of the lines, so I didn't care. There...I admit it to the world. I basically watched static for 2 1/2 hours because I could still hear Brad Pitt's voice.

Now it's like I can't stop thinking about him. Or her. Or them. Brangelina. I've decided that sitting there for 2 1/2 hours, staring at weird lines and squiggles, somehow programmed my brain to always want to, oh, you know...know how he's doing. It's gotten to the point where I'll be talking with friends about their relationships, and I'll say something ridiculous like, "Oh, I know. That must be just how Jennifer Aniston felt." I know that sounds crazy, but here's something that's even more disturbing. I think that my friends have just come to the conclusion that I will always end up talking about Brangelina at some point, and so they just go along with me. Basically, if any subject is brought up, I can turn it around and make it about Brangelina. It goes a little something like this:

Friend: Hey, Cari! How's it goin?
Cari: Great! How are you?
Friend: Oh, I'm good. Just in school...you know...still studying Spanish as usual.
Cari: Awesome! I really want to know how to speak French.
Friend: Yeah, it's such a beautiful language.
Cari: Yeah, I know. Did you know that Brangelina's son, Maddox, knows French really well? He's basically fluent because they put him in a French school. He gets taught in English and French.
Friend: Huh...I didn't know that. Interesting.
Cari: I know, pretty cool, huh?

I mean, when does it stop, people? When will I stop equating everything in life to f-ing Brangelina? The other day, I actually felt tears rising up because of the photos that Brad took of Ange in W magazine! Then, I'll go back and forth with thoughts like, "I can't like Brangelina so much. He totally cheated on Jen. I mean, yeah, it was emotional cheating, but I think we all know that's just as bad. That's not right. Is Jen okay? Does she really even love John Mayer? Like how she loved Brad? I think it's fine that Jen said that what Angelina did was 'really uncool.' It WAS really uncool. It's uncool to start a relationship with a married man. Why is everyone so hard on Jen? She's a nice girl. But, that Ange is so damn pretty. She's like a black widow just waiting for her next kill. Plus, she's a UN ambassador. And, she's adopts from all over the world. DAMN IT! Who do I side with? Brad's great though. He always will be, no matter how much his acting sucks. I love Brad. I love Brad Pitt. I love William Bradley Pitt." This is how my brain works. This is why 20% of my time is spent thinking about them.

Then, I proceed to write all over my Trapper Keeper:

Cari Elaine Pitt
Cari Elaine Hollrah-Pitt
Cari Elaine Hollrah Pitt
Cari Pitt
Cari Hollrah Pitt

Then I practice kissing on my hand.

Okay, okay...it really doesn't get to that point (anymore), but I think you can all see just how much of my time is spent thinking about them...especially since I just spent the past 48 minutes writing about them.

p.s. If there is a "Brangelina Overload" support group, someone should probably send me the number. I'm getting the shakes just thinking about not thinking about them.