D.J. AM Doesn't Need A "Trophy Girlfriend" To Remind Him He's No Longer The Country's Fattest Crackhead

Here's the thing about celebrity media: you think you abhor it, until you find yourself in the middle of a heart-wrenching story about the personal obstacles overcome by DJ AM on page 132 of the February Glamour and you're like, "Damn, I am really lucky to have celebrity culture to complain about all day when there are people in this country raised by abusive closeted fathers who find themselves in "tough love" mind control rehab centers where they're starved and brutally beaten by the age of 14." Because that is DJ AM. His father died of AIDS when he was 16. He was stuck in his "tough love" rehab "house of horrors"until he was 18. He started smoking crack at age 20 and it pretty much ate up all the cash he didn't spend at Mickey Ds.

One night I happened to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. It had been at least a year since I'd really looked at myself — I'd started to avoid it because I felt so disgusting — but now I could literally not look away. I was dripping wet because I always sweated [sic] when I smoked crack. I was hugely fat, because whenever I wasn't high I was gorging on food.

He was 323 pounds. Imagine if he hadn't had a crack problem!

So I went into my living room, reached into a cabinet above my TV and grabbed my gun, a loaded .22. I sat back on my heels, cocked it and put it in my mouth. Then I squinted my eyes and said "Fuck this." I pulled the trigger. The gun didn't go off. I thought, Are you fucking kidding me? I'm such a fucking failure I can't even kill myself?
It ends on a positive note, with DJ AM noting that he knew he was better when he "no longer needed a trophy girlfriend or drugs to feel good about myself."
If I go to a restaurant and hear there's a 45-minute wait, my ego wants to say the worst sentence ever: "Do you know who I am?" Which, of course, really means, "Do you know who I think I am?" That's when I have to remind myself of just who that is: a fat crackhead who's lucky to be alive.
Um, wow. Words to live by for us fucking dykes! He's almost as inspiring as Barack Obama. Or maybe even Auntie Anne!