As Lamar Odom proves, celebrity marriages are a different deal

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The Lakers' Lamar Odom raised eyebrows with his quick marriage to reality TV star Khloe Kardashian. AP

First, the good news: Lamar Odom and Khloe Kardashian are, according to the cover of OK! Magazine, "So in love." Which is important. Because if one marries a person she's known for 30 days, love isn't enough. To stand a chance of lasting 60 days, you need the So. Two Sos if the Lakers trade Odom to Milwaukee.

Not that word of the nuptials shocked me. No, the shocker is that there is woman called Khloe, her name actually begins with the letter K, and she's not (lest we know) an offspring of Roger Clemens.

What Khloe Kardashian is, according to her Wikipedia page, is "an American television personality, radio host, model, celebutante, and socialite." Which, in old English, translates to, "She who seeks fame by any means necessary."

But I digress.

Truth be told, I am so euphoric over the Lamar-Khloe union that, when my giddiness finally subsides, I will visit their Williams-Sonoma gift registry and order both the Rösle Fruit Muddler and the Rösle Silicone Egg Whisk. Thanks to these two lovebirds I am allowed to emphasize a point I've made repeatedly since the day I heard of Suge Knight dangling Vanilla Ice by the ankles from a balcony: Famous people are insane.

In the real world, human beings don't get married after a month. First they are required to bowl, make out on a couch, compare Netflix queues (my wife is still confused over my inclusion of A Walk To Remember), argue over a shirt, break up, get back together, eat Chinese food -- then invest an ungodly amount of money in a diamond ring that would have looked just fine in Cubic Zirconia. Sure, it's clichéd and a bit plodding. But, most of the time, the plan proves moderately effective.

Celebrities, on the other hand, approach marriage with the same mindset an injured ballplayer brings to the clubhouse snack bin: I'm not sure what I want. So I guess I'll grab a Devil Dog.

Think Britney Spears marrying her childhood friend Jason Allen Alexander for 55 hours. Think Carmen Electra marrying Dennis Rodman for five months. Think Cher and Gregg Allman; Shannen Doherty and Ashley Hamilton; Courtney Thorne-Smith and Andrew Conrad (A wacky twist -- Thorne-Smith and Conrad were already separated by the time InStyle Magazine published their wedding photos).

Among male athletes, in particular, the lead-up-to-a-wedding rituals are standard, and not especially enlightened. As it is written, one can either:

A. Marry the high school sweetheart who loyally attended every Mahopac High football game, wore your letter jacket -- and won't fuss when she stumbles upon that mysterious pink bras in your suitcase.

B. In a haze of loneliness and depression, marry the small-town minor league groupie who tattooed your name on her body that crazy drunk night in Hickory, N.C.

C. Find another celebrity who understands the burden that comes with employing a publicist, speaking in the third-person, cutting lines and making $15 million annually.

Were I, say, Lamar Odom, I'd go with C, too. Less than a week ago, he was simply another good-but-not-great basketball player -- popular and highly paid, yet nonetheless forced down a peg with the Lakers' offseason acquisition of Ron Artest. Now, however, for the first time since his collegiate days at Rhode Island, Odom is the man. His new father in law is Bruce Jenner, his future brother in law could be Reggie Bush (the Saints tailback is dating Khloe's sister Kim) and his wedding will be aired on the Nov. 8 episode of Keeping Up With the Kardashians -- only on E!

Heck, maybe they'll still be married.

Jeff Pearlman can be reached at anngold22@gmail.com.