My my, life is funny sometimes. Last week I was an average 28-year-old, being snobby about pop culture and yet obsessed with it, of which a pre-requisite is Hating Paris Hilton. I'm not saying she's my new BFF, but Let me just say that self-awareness goes a long way in making me like you. If getting me to like you is one of your goals. In which case, you also need to bring a case of Diet Coke, (cans, not bottles!), those cheese crack sandwich thingies, some mid-priced vodka, and know about Hollywood musicals. I DIGRESS. Ms. Hilton has never impressed me as being particularly well-versed in politics, or well-versed in anything else for that matter, but gosh darn it if she hasn't risen in my esteem after this gem from Funny or Die:
And for those of you keeping track, (read: Me, my Mom.) my fourth 25th birthday is coming up next month. Besides world peace and a Reese's Peanut Butter Anatomically Correct Replica of Christian Bale, I only want one thing: For Mr. Noah Warren to perform at my birthday party. But what will Mr. Warren, the consumate Showboat, perform, you may ask? Wonder no more:
