When I heard it confirmed for the ninth time - or was it the 10th? - that yes, Ben and J. Lo are engaged, I wasn't sure how to feel: cynical, elated, jealous, bored, fat (that last one is my default emotion).

So I called my personal celebrity adviser and ran my options by her - or rather, I tried to, but she was too glum to be of any help, which was surprising, considering she's usually waaay into anything Hollywood.

For example, she knows that Christina Aguilera has 11 piercings, most of which you can't see, and that Gwyneth Paltrow's first movie was ``Hook,'' in which she played the role of Wendy in bed, and that Steven Spielberg is Gwyneth's godfather, and Drew Barrymore's, too.

So I assumed she'd be really into the hottest news on both coasts, and, if nothing else, ready to rail against our nice hometown boy Ben marrying Jenny from the Block or to mock Jennifer's assertion on the ABC Web site that her feelings for Ben are ``bigger and realer'' than anything she felt for her first two husbands. But I was wrong.

``I just don't care about them,'' she said. ``I don't know why - maybe I'm depressed.''

I knew how she felt, but it scared me. It was like learning your personal trainer has had liposuction, or your guru takes Paxil. If she didn't care about Hollywood, who would, and then what would happen to our society? Our whole economy is based on celebrity watching.

So I tried to get her going.

``Did you know that Ben wears a piece?'' I asked. It was a tidbit I'd picked up at MostBeautifulMan.com: Turns out, Ben Affleck is not only bald (something that was news to me but apparently is well known in fan circles), but that his hairpiece flew off at a party when he and fellow actor Vince Vaughn were ``play-fighting,'' and Ben ``begged'' friends not to reveal his secret.

``He hasn't even broken the news to Jennifer yet,'' I told my adviser.

``Not even told J. Lo?'' she asked, brightening. But it was only a temporary boost. ``That's good stuff,'' she said, ``but it's only a blip. And we'll never know the real story.''

Since when has the real story been important?

I mentioned something else I'd read somewhere on the Internet: Ben wanted to have his brother, Casey, in the wedding party but J. Lo said no, because then she'd have to choose who among her girlfriends would be Casey's escort, and it would turn into a nightmare for her. So Ben caved and Casey will have to sit in the front row with Ben's parents.

My trainer brightened again. ``What a witch,'' she said. ``I can't imagine the Afflecks are too happy about that.''

She saw the move as part of a pattern on J. Lo's part, in which she thinks only about herself: ``She dumped that nice Cris Judd, and he had a clubfoot that he overcame to become a dancer. That bums me out.''

I laughed, but she was serious. ``I'm sorry, but it does. Now I hate her.

``Maybe it was the Justin and Britney break-up that put me over the edge,'' she said. ``I can't invest in these relationships anymore.''

``Really?'' I asked.

``Yes,'' she insisted, and then without missing a beat asked what I thought she should wear when she ogles B. Aff and J. Lo outside Trinity Church when they go to tie the knot in February.

``It will probably be a formal wedding,'' she said, ``so I'll need to take that into account. But it will be cold out, so I'll have to wear a coat . . . .''