Column:

Rehab? Yes, yes, yes

By Hannah Hayes

Published Feb. 12, 2008

Last Friday, my friend came stomping up to my table in Brady Commons and started gesturing wildly over my Styrofoam plate of sushi. “Eva Mendes is in rehab.” “Yeah ... I guess I heard about that. Are you OK?” I said. “Eva Mendes!” he said with another large, arm swooping action. “She’s perfect!” I could see his point. Eva Mendes hasn’t made any terribly shitty movies, nor has she made any Oscar worthy ones either. She’s not too skinny and not too large and is gorgeous in a non-obvious way. It is indeed plausible that she might be the most likeable, formidable actress of our day. So when Eva Mendes goes to rehab, who’s next? It seems as though everyone in Hollywood is packing their bags for Utah or Florida with everything from addictions and substance abuse to eating and mental disorders and now the latest issue, “severe exhaustion.” I guess this isn’t the 90s anymore. Heroin and cocaine, pshh, they’re so last century. Apparently being stressed out is enough cause to seek refuge at the Cirque Lodge or Promises. Where can I sign up? I have four quizzes this week, a slew of online assignments, a paper topic to decide and a GPA to boost. Should I go to graduate school? Will I get social security benefits? Do I want to be buried or cryogenically frozen? I have the rest of my life ahead of me. I think that’s as exhausting as a barbiturate addiction. But I’m not the only one who wouldn’t mind seven weeks in the mountains. My friend, Zach, the one who was upset about Eva, is concerned he might need help with his compulsive e-mail checking.
“I checked it after you called me and then twice before I left. I really want to check it right now,” he said grimacing like a woman in labor. “I guess I’m addicted to Facebook, but that’s normal ... right?” What if it’s not? What if businesses pounce on this new rehab craze and suddenly a whole new clientele arises? Instead of Jenny Craigs and L.A. Weight Loss Centers there will be strip mall clinics promising results for your Oxycodone problem in 30 days. Your professor won’t be able to make it to class because he’s decided to take a mental sabbatical at Crossroads for PowerPoint addiction. Your best friend, Joe, suddenly vanishes, determining he should seek treatment for his pizza and beer binge eating. You come home from break to find your little sister meditating in her bedroom after your parents sent her to sort out her Hannah Montana issues at the Betty Ford center. I wouldn’t mind if Dr. Drew could help me limit my Youtube usage. Just yesterday I spent around 90 minutes watching some ridiculous video about Celine Dion and then showing it to all my friends. If the UCLA Medical Center could take care of my emotional Chipotle gorges, too, that would be super. I suppose until all these centers recognize the needs of us peons, we will just have to muddle through and keep on reminding ourselves that we are not Britney to keep our sanity.