As most of the internets are reporting, actors Jeffrey Dean Morgan and Hilarie Burton have purportedly been secretly dating for like a year and a half, and in fact have a secret baby boy. And have had said baby for a few months, now. People are shocked. I am shocked. I do NOT like being shocked by celebrity news. I much prefer to be the shock inducer. Not in a capital-punishment-kind of way, but in a i-know-more-than-you kind of way. Shallow? yes. True? moreso. Therefore, it should be no surprise that accompanying my shock is also the cold and torturous pain of betrayal seeping through my veins. Yes, I feel betrayed. You may, dear reader(s?) be wondering why exactly I would feel such a strong emotional response to the news that two B-list (but nonetheless loved) celebrities with whom I have no personal connection whatsoever have managed to do the near impossible and hatch a small creature out of their love nest.

But betrayed I am. With the entertainment industry at large, and with this couple in particular. Firstly, how g.d. sloppy is the celebrity gossip circuit these days? First Sandra Bullock has a secret adoption, and now this? Like, what the hell? Get off your lazy asses, people.com, and get me some breaking news. And get it yesterday. And yes -- I really feel this strongly about celebrity gossip. I can understand where this penchant might be considered "uncultured", "trashy" or just "weird"(all things I aspire to be at times), but WE ALL HAVE OUR VICES! And since giving up Diet Coke (RIP), my quest for celebrity gossip has only intensified. And I think it should be socially acceptable! I mean, it's not like I spend my days watching Sally Jesse, eating cheese puffs on my couch cracking open a new Corona every hour (often), so what if I like to come home from grueling day of work and school and responsibilities and kick back with EW.com and Perez? WHY IS THAT SO WRONG? I also have a theory, in working through my distressing response to this scandal, that my insane impatience has something to do with it. I can be patient all day long with six year olds, all of whom have selective hearing and a tendency to wipe their noses on my clothes, but with information or things that I want -- I am NOT a patient person. I say with complete understanding that this is certainly one of my more unsavory characteristics. But when something happens, and I don't find out immediately, I get MAD. I do not like being kept in the dark. Information is literally my crack cocaine.

I'm also feeling very betrayed by the two baby-makers themselves. Hilarie Burton. You were an MTV VJ and then on One Tree Hill. Listen -- I'mma tell you right now, that's not incredibly impressive. But I didn't care! Your years on MTV were also the years in which I watched MTV exclusively (ahh, middle school), and I was always glad to see your face after school. And then, I supported you all throughout your troubled times in Tree Hill. People may have scorned and scoffed, but I watched you, I did, and I didn't care. Even when Peyton got unbearably emo, I still defended and supported your creative decisions. YOU'RE WELCOME. And you, Jeffrey Dean Morgan. You play the dead guy on like a billion shows, and even though you broke up my favorite Grey's couple (yes, I know, I do watch quality television, thank you) of Alex and Izzie like seven hundred and two times, I still found you charming. EVEN WHEN YOU WERE A SEX-HAVING GHOST I still liked you. Which is saying a lot because that shit was ridiculous and you and Shonda Rhimes should be equally ashamed.

So thanks, assholes. All I wanted was the chance to squeal over how cute I'm sure your teensy bebe is. And to know his name. Most parents like it when people want to see pictures of their kid. Most parents have to beg for that kind of attention to their offspring! Why would you deny me this pleaure? After my hours spent watching your various shows and basically paying your expanding salaries (indirectly, maybe, sure, but the principle!), you cannot afford me the simple pleasure of a picture? Well, your loss guys. Kind of. I'm obviously still fuming.