And now, poor little ignored Barron Hilton, Nicky and Paris' 18-year-old unfamed bro, is making his own notorious name for himself in the naughty goss world. And that career goal, natch, comes with its own personalized mug shot, which is basically a headshot in H-town nowadays, n' est-ce pas?
Not only was the almost littlest Hilton arrested for DUI, the kid's got gumption! B.H. was almost twice over the legal limit, even for a person over 21 (limits are diff for underage and their more mature drinking candidate counterparts), which probably explains how B.H. reportedly managed to almost hit a gas station attendant in Malibu with his Mercedes, all between the hours of 6 and 8 ayem.
I bet most of you were still asleep while the industrious Barron was kick-starting his career trajectory! Don't you feel lazy? Wish I were that ballsy and early-bird-worm eating, but then again, I didn't grow up with some great role models like Nicky with her failed hotel and marriage or Paris with her ubiquitous sex tapes and catchphrases.
More tomorrow on how Paris is not the Hilton behind the curtain who's so craftily (and lamely) arranging Barron's debauched debut—the only kind a Hilton offspring ever makes, ya know.
—Grammys Best Rap Song winner T-Pain, on spending 17 grand for his glittery grill. That’s some good advice, and we’re not just talkin’ about grills, trust
There were a slew of surprising moments from Sunday’s big music show (Amy Winehouse behaving, anybody, how very tacky!), but there was nothing more shocking than 2007’s It girl Rihanna making a misstep in every direction.
The Barbadian babe rained on her own parade with the worst cover of “Umbrella” that’s ever been sung while wearing the fugliest dress this side of a sweaty tutu that hasn’t been washed in about a century. Not like Ri’s ugly-duckling-threads disaster mattered much. Morris Day said, in regard to working with the 19-year old, “[She’s] a sexy young lady—I have kids as old as her. But that did not deter me from noticing at all.”
Hey, at least the horndawg’s honest.
Carrie Underwood was kinda taken aback, too, when she first heard her Grammy-winning song “Before He Cheats.” “It sounds like a woman who knows what she’s talkin’ about,” Carrie confessed backstage about the ditty that was penned by two dudes. “But I guess it’s what they wouldn’t want to happen to them.” Every male in the world agrees—last thing they want is Carrie throwing her three golden Grammys at their heads. Those things can bruise.
Unscathed C.U., the American Idol alum, provided some advice for the next crop of crooners in season seven: “Don’t take anything for granted...I think occasionally some people play ‘the game’ a little too much...They forget it’s something they always wanted to do.” It’s a reality show, Car—ya gotta be in it to win it. Just 'cause you’re the only good-hearted Glinda to come out of that boob-tube institution doesn’t mean you shouldn’t prepare to be vicious to get to the top.
Adrian Grenier, catching some cultcha at MOCA’s permanent collection in downtown Hell-Ay. A.G. donned a white tee with holes all over it (feelin’ a bit drafty in that huge museum, Ad?), mucho enjoying the company of his posse of nonceleb pals while admiring all the fab art. Looks like Ad-Gren’s takin’ some tips from his alter-ego Vinnie Chase, maintaining himself as the eye candy of his entourage. (Sorry, Johnny Drama.) No...
Paris, by the curly-haired stud’s side? Well, apart from MOCA being a place of class, not ass, Pare-poo was busy with her own birthday bash over at Area the same night. Guess that squashes the romance rumors betwixt these two, but then that was bashed ages ago in this very missive, right? Makes me wonder why Ad-babe subjected himself to the premiere screening of Pare’s The Hottie and the Nottie if he wasn’t getting reimbursed in some way, know what I mean? Laying low and doin’ some lobby relaxing across town was...
John Mayer, casually conversing with a bunch of chums at the Four Seasons hotel lobby bar. Johnny-juice, who so famously dissed and bypassed Paris H at a Grammy do, wasn’t the only music maverick in the joint. Classy classical singer Josh Groban waltzed in with a few of his own chums and spotted Mayer across the room. What could have become a battle of the charming chanteuses turned into man-mush at first sight. “Josh looked really excited and lit up,” says a hotel source who watched the musician magic unfold. “He went right over to John when he saw him. It definitely looked like it was the first time they had ever met.” J.M. and J.G. chatted about 20 minutes—I’m figuring more about their shared Grammys gig, less Jessica Simpson goss—and exchanged cell phone numbers, ending their meet-cute with a “thug hug.” New besties alert! I can already see “Josh + John 4EVA” scrawled into a tree only recently rammed by one of Lindsay Lohan’s errant Mercedes. Another playboy with a more peculiar posse was...
Dear Ted:
I am not a fan of John McCain. That said, it was pretty low of you to say his wife looks like a retired hooker. That comment deserves a public apology to Mrs. McCain. Shame on you for stooping so low as to say something like that. If you think Bush was a horrible president, wait until Clinton gets in—everybody will change their minds real quickly. Enough with the politics.
Darla
Phoenix
Dear Lady of the Fight:
Okay, I take it back. You’re right, ‘twas a (tired) possibly sexist swipe at Cindy’s gender. And why pick on her when McCain himself looks like a still active john, eh?