Damn! I missed my chance to blog about the Hilton sisters thing by about an hour and a half. Damn. Damn. Damn. But anyway, how fantastic is it that two random American chicks visit Melbourne and make the front page of The Age? I mean, it's a broadsheet! Ha ha ha. Terrific. Anyway, unlike Guy, I have given up qualifying my love for them. It's fully blown. Paris was asked what it is like to be really really ridiculously good-looking, and she replied that it is "Nice". How great is that? The other day, I even taped a short interview with them conducted by Paul Salmon at the races. He couldn't match them at all, so it was yet another awkward moment in which they were boredly participating. I watched it a few times anyway. I've still got the tape if anyone wants a look. No? Aw, you're all in denial and you know it.

Hmmm. It's like the Hiltons are some kind of travelling freakshow, or something. They go on tour, and flit from place to place to get gawped at. And then two-bit entertainment reporters do 'tongue-in-cheek' profiles on them and ask them rude meanie questions like "What do you list as your profession?" and stuff. I mean, that question needn't be asked. Clearly, being themselves is their profession, and there is just as clearly a market for it. They've got to trot themselves out to satisfy the demand. It's a duty. A service. Don't hate them for it. It seems like a rather awkward existence, actually. Strangers clamour to be near you just so they can ask you to justify why they are clamouring to be near you, before complimenting you on your frock and having you graciously praise the genius of the designer. It's a little weird. Hmmm.

Actually, they seem to be drowning in a mixture of goons, lunkheads, a-holes, gits and bitter dags. I don't think I could stand it, frankly. So I have a feeling that the Hiltons are about to hit a serious fit of hysterics of the 'I can't take it anymore' variety. They will lash out, burn out, and then drop out, disappearing into a tabloid fantasy period of disillusionment and decadent malaise, only to resurface in 18 months' time in the requisite amends-making and newly minted wisdom-demonstrating exclusive Barbara Walters interview, in which they won't pull any punches about how lame most of the opportunists they had to fraternise with were, while also copping squarely to their fair share of the opportunism charge, which they will temper with a claim to naivete, before going on to climax the piece with a "We couldn't have gotten through it without each other". Er, but I hope that doesn't happen. They seem cooler than that. I think they'll be alright, perhaps because they don't give a shit. Sure, they spend a little time barely tolerating some total losers and pouting for the cameras, but then they pack up their free trinkets and party dresses and get the hell out of there, wholly unscathed by, though healthily contemptuous of, all the desperate little things that paw the ground at their perfectly pedicured feet. The Hiltons rule.