My secret shame- celebrity gossip. Lame, I know. I only indulge every once in awhile, and you can't tell me that in the checkout line at the grocery store, your eyes don't drift to those shiny rags. Secretly, you know you care that Lindsay Lohan bitchslapped Britney Spears in some club. Well...maybe not care
...but you know you felt a sick sense of glee when you pretended to be looking at the Time cover story.
I -loathe- Paris Hilton. You could tell me that she'd given up her worldly possessions and donated her money to starving children, that she'd joined a relief group that cuddled babies with leprosy, and I would still think she was a vacuous waste of a perfectly good menstrual cycle. She is a prime example of pretty wrappings over an ugly, ugly person, and I, like most of the rest of us who secretly titter over the misfortune of the rich and stupid, cheered when her jail sentence was announced. So now I have to wonder, WHAT THE FUCKING -FUCK-? Apparently you can now get out of jail because you CRY.
Isn't that just special?