I’ll admit it: I used to have a voracious appetite for celebrity gossip. It’s shameful and embarrassing, as I’m the type of lady who fancies herself too smart to be caught up in such cliched female trappings. It was almost as bad as my habit of talking about hair in depth for entirely too long.
I started reading Perez Hilton at the tail-end of college, and I liked how openly silly and crass he was, drawing dicks on paparazzi shots. Hilarious, right?