Honestly, your 15 minutes of fame is over...

*I know. I haven't updated. Blah Blah Blah.*

Ugh. I'm disgusted. (And it's not even noon yet) So in the midst of getting ready for work, while checking the news for the daily haps and listening to mindless chatter of our local news anchormen, I discovered some god awful news...

Paris Hilton is writing a book. Oh, Christ!




It's bad enough she thinks she has awesome fashion sense. Now this. She's screwed someone on camera and is on heavy download rotation via internet. (who hasn't in Hollywood?) And please stop "guest" starring in everything from reality tv shows to must "never see" tv. (If Gary Coleman did it, you know you're career is heading down the drain.)

One of the few things in life that I hold most sacred is the ability to write a novel. I may never write a book myself, but I admire those who can and do. However Paris found the time to pen "Confessions of an Heiress"; who the fuck knows? How does one find time between the catwalk and the cow tipping on a reality tv show? Lucky for her, with the help of former W magazine entertainment editor Merle Ginsberg, she wrote a "book".

Ugh. So I can chat about tons of happenings: USA kicking ass in the Olympics, convention in NYC, NASA charting a new course in outer space, the fun premiere I had attended the past Saturday night, or even as far as mentioning that college hoops is in the air, baby! But I can't...Hilton's book is just too much for me. It's Monday. I didn't need this kind of crap this early on in the week... You know you want it now, because that's the kind of literary enthusiast you are -- but you'll have to wait until September 7th for the Hilton book. *grumble* God. I envy she has a book, but I most definitely do not envy the fact she's Paris Hilton.

(End rant)

Side Note: Much to update about an upcoming 4 day holiday,(Labor Day weekend will be enjoyed), Dave Chappelle 'For What It's Worth' on Showtime this Saturday, rekindling old friendships, and my eager anticipation for the fall/winter seasons. (My favorite time of year)

--If the Chelsea Hotel is the rest stop for rare individuals, then Ms. Hilton's underpants is the rest stop for her book's publishers... :)