Another Monday pretty much come and gone. Too cold out there to play, so I decided to do some fun stuff, like attempt to bake a chocolate torte thingy.
And in my bits of free time here and there, I read my usual online news (yes, gossip). And I became traumatized. The culprits? Well, there is the whole Paris Hilton fiasco, in which all the entertainment bloggers are also traumatized and disgusted but they can’t get enough of writing and posting about it. And then there is a well-known blogger whose story involving the lack of bowel movements in her progeny really freaked me out– I won’t go into that, because if you read then you know what I’m talking about and possibly have your own opinion based on how you feel about said blogger. And if you don’t read… well, you’re probably better off not reading that entry.
Both threads intrigue me and make me really uneasy in a world where it’s become normal and commonplace to live in this Jerry Springeresque reality. Thank goodness people seem to think that Paris’s stupidity, proclivity to filming herself having sex and being pawed by repulsive men, and their cocaine snorting ways are actually causing a shock and uproar. But you know there are people out there who think that it’s all still pretty awesome and wish they were rich just so they could do some blow right off some random dude’s waxed, yet puffy chest.
It is reassuring to see that everyone seems uniformly disgusted by this incredibly dumb and promiscuous rich girl who has not done one single thing in the last four years to prove that she isn’t the reptilian, horrible person we all thought she was all those years ago, when she flipped us off as avid readers of Vogue.
Nope. What you see is what you get. But why can’t people seem to get enough of this bimbo anyway?