Ray of Slight

Who's hatin' on not just Paris Hilton but Rachael Ray, as well? Thought it was after Valentine's when everybody got so bitchy? Plus, which hugely romanticized—and, quite frankly, overly romanced—hot H-town babe is going it alone this V-Day? Horrors!

Paris Hilton didn’t make any new friends in Beantown moments ago. In fact, I don’t think Bostonians have had this much hatred of a piece of pop culture since that Aqua Teen Hunger Force bomb scare threw the whole town in a tizzy. Princess P, promoting her new flick (more on that down below), had a plethora of interviews at the Four Seasons hotel that were scheduled to start at 10:30 in the ayem...but the blondie didn’t show her heir-ass until 12:45. Tons of interviewers were plenty pissed, screaming at whoever the hell would listen, since they’d then miss the 3 p.m. screening—probably the only time in history someone’s upset to not have seen The Hottie and the Nottie.

Turns out, scary Parey was also scheduled to receive the Harvard Lampoon Woman of the Year award—a spoof of the vaunted Harvard Hasty Pudding Theatricals award—at 1 p.m., earning her a major tardy slip. Guess punctuality is not one of the requirements for a WOY. So, P canceled all the interviews and booked it on over to the Ivy League institution, leaving hordes of raging reporters who had to revise their front covers and main stories. The diva was better behaved back balmy way, read on:

Like a sphinx with 900 lives, Paris, jail and sex-tape survivor, reigned at the Egyptian Theater in Hollywood this week. Hilton’s mind-numbing "Stars Are Blind" single played on the crimson carpet as soon as P-poo materialized at the premiere of her latest filmic effort, the loftily titled The Hottie and the Nottie (like we said last week, we’ll be expecting residual checks from the studio, as the movie totally rips off our "Hottie" and “Nottie" Do-Me Meter ratings, but whatev). Tons of people screamed for Paris, the new Anna Nicole Smith. We all need law-breaking T&A to worship, just for titillation’s sake, right?

People pressed up tightly against glass storefronts, just to get a look at Kathy Hilton’s eldest child. She showed up at 7:15, even though the movie started at 7. Hmmm. Surprised it wasn’t closer to 9. Regardless, she walked the carpet alone and was quite magnanimous all the way around. Damn, Katherine Heigl certainly didn’t do that at the 27 Dresses premiere. But then, P doesn’t have her Emmy, does she? Not yet.

Adrian Grenier, P’s former partner in subliminal everything, showed up, kissed Paris on the cheek and headed inside with his own entourage. I wish he actually hung out with Drama and Turtle in real life.

Paris, on The Hottie and the Nottie: "This movie has a really sweet message, not to judge a book by its cover, love people for who they are, not who they are on the outside."

By the way, Paris the Benevolent will be performing with the Pussycat Dolls on her birthday, Feb. 17, at LAX in Vegas. Oh, and did you know Ms. H’s fave beauty secret? "Facials!" P.H. squealed with near orgasmic delight. "I love facials!"

Wasn’t Rick Salomon into those, as well? Never mind. But word from a past Paris paramour (or pimp) does make us wonder if P’s taken care of for the big upcoming day of canoodling—the all-holy Valentine’s massacre, when all single folks want to rip cutie-pie couples to shreds.

"I’ll be in Las Vegas for my clothing line...And also my birthday, I’ll be there with a bunch of my friends," Paris sidestepped, perhaps not as deftly as she’s done in the past with yours truly. Fine. She hasn’t got plans. Regardless, we must get Paris’ thoughts on hooking up and such.

"What makes for a hottie Valentine’s Day?" we pressed, all supereager. "If the guy plans something special...roses, go to a nice dinner, something romantic." Did you all get that? Paris must not be a lesbian. She did say guy, ya know.

Far dirtier inquiries include potential poop. Will she babysit for Nicole? "Definitely, we had a sleepover the other night at her mom’s house. I literally showed up to Nicole’s house with eight huge boxes with every baby gift imaginable. And now when I go shopping, I’ll pick up little cute dresses and shoes."

Nothing whatsoever about practical matters such as burping and diaper patrol. Guess that’s so not Hottie activity.

We interrupt this arguably ass-kissing Hilton missive to bring you something truly tragic: 'Course, as was announced yesterday, Vanity Fair will not be hosting its annual be-all and end-all post-Oscars do. Officially, the mag put out some politically sensitive press announcement on how it wouldn’t be appropriate to the ravages caused by the recent writers' strike. Privately, folks over at the Condé Nast rag told me, "It couldn’t have been a better year to cancel, what with the [Oscar] star lineup this year—or lack thereof."

Ouch! Them New Yawk mag higher-ups can be awfully bitchy! And folks say I’m blunt.

Jeez. Is George Clooney such chopped liver? Cate Blanchett? Julie "Cantankerous" Christie (my new heroine, ever since she verbally laser-gunned my clothes-obsessed colleagues backstage at the SAG Awards)?

I swear. Manhattanites. They drive their mouths worse than Angelinos do their cars.

More Vanity Fair fallout to come. This ain’t small canapés, folks. Nor is it necessarily as it seems—like most delish crap in this town.

Hottie, part two, has Pare-Poo’s costar Christine Lakin, who resembles a zombie on the poster but is so not a "Nottie" in real life, surprised by Hilton’s "down to earth" demeanor. "She’s got this really fabulous, larger than life persona, and yet when you hang out with her, she just wants the same thing...she wasn’t asking for cordon bleu, just a PB&J," offered Lakin, who clearly wants to work in this rich-ass ruled town again.

Even hunky Hottie costar Johann Urb blurts, “[Paris] is really sweet, really kind, really genuine, a good friend...think we’ll be friends for a long time.”  Right! She won’t remember his name by the end of the after-party. And those reallys are really making us suspicious of all this praise.

Oh, for the couture record, P.H. donned a pretty pink Gentlemen Prefer Blondes-inspired gown and an entire Tiffany’s case around her neck. Forget Anna Nicole. This bitch is going all the way to the Marilyn top, fer sure.

(But look at what happened to both babes, watch out there, P-hon.)