The Depths of My Shallowness Revealed

The Neighbor and I watch "Project Runway" on Wednesday nights. We like saying "Auf wiedersehen" like Heidi Klum and our new game is trying to impersonate Tim Gunn. These pastimes amuse us. (I know: Reality tv is a tool of Satan...blah blah...bread and circuses...blah blah, whatever...you're either in or you're out).

'K so the challenge last night was to design a party dress for "one of NY's hottest young socialites" and I said to The Neighbor, "If it's Paris Hilton I'm going to plotz". When reality tv worlds collide! Well, for those of you who were reading Proust last night, the socialite was Nicki Hilton. (Nicki is Paris' sister for those of you too busy practising your Latin declensions to bother with such trivia).

Nicki and Paris are both famous for being rich and famous. They've done nothing, that I know of, to make the world a better place. Heidi Klum is at least married to Seal. (That's gotta count for something...have you seen his complexion?) Although apparently Nicki actually designs clothes or something which is, arguably, work. (If you can ever really call it 'work' when daddy's fortune bankrolls all your endeavors. Wouldn't a rich socialite designing clothes be more in the 'dabbling' category? Seriously, don't all proper dilettantes come from the upper classes? Poor people don't have time to dabble...This line of thought is actually getting too serious for me. If my dad had been the scion of a hotel empire I'd buy me a newspaper and call myself Katherine Graham).

I don't know these girls. I'm sure they are fine, compassionate human beings who do fabulously philanthropic things with the good fortune they were born into and anything you've heard to the contrary is just jealous gossip. I'm sure of it.

By the way, Nicki 'way picked the wrong dress in our opinion because we hate Santino. He has the head of a turd. I told you I was shallow.