As a celebrity, you have to come to a point where the frenzy surrounding your life is both surreal and depressing. Don’t you guys have anything better to do, you must think, than stare a pictures of me putting gas into my truck on my way to the gym? Surely with the limited time each of us is granted on this Earth, there must be a better use of your resources than to follow my every movement, as if that will in any way shed light upon the darkness or lift any weight from your shoulders. Sure, we are all human beings, and sure there is an escapist, voyeuristic thrill in distracting one’s self from one’s own life through the life of others, which explains the popularity of movies and television, the very industry that created my fame. But the gas station of all places? It’s not even an issue of invading my privacy at this point, although certainly that concerns me and diminishes my ability to feel whole and safe and human, but more to the point, I simply cannot imagine the mindset it must require from the photographer’s perspective to the publisher’s perspective to the consumer’s perspective that allows this much human energy to be devoted to something so meaningless and quotidien. It must feel something like that to a celebrity. But from where I am sitting THOSE ARE SOME FUN BOOTS, BUDDY! XOXOXOOX! (Via JustJared.)