Kim, Kim, Kim. We weren't with you when you tried to become Paris Hilton. We weren't with you when you started dating Tommy Lee. We weren't even with you years ago when you guest-starred on the brilliant Undeclared, and my guess is the Apatow Factory might not have been with you that much either, since you have never been recycled into anything else (a practice we generally approve of with them, since otherwise, we might have missed out on more of Seth Rogen, Jay Baruchel and Carla Gallo, and I don't want to think about that kind of life).
[Photos: infdaily.com]
So why on Earth would we be with you now that you've decided to rip a page out of Posh's book? For one thing, don't do that -- her books are best consumed without any missing bits, I promise, and preferably while you are on the beach holding a fruity drink that will blur your vision a tad -- and for another, just...you are no Victoria Beckham, my dear. Lots has to happen, like professing your undying belief that Joan Collins is your real mother or letting your toddler "write" its own "autobiography," before we'll laugh off you wearing designer hot pants or happily sit through an hour of a reality special about you that appears to have been run through a massive footage blender before being chucked onto the screen. Spare yourself. Don't bring us your Weak Spice.
Having said that, yours looks better than Paris's, so if you're still BFF, maybe consider a hair intervention. You could go to the wig shop together. God, that sounds fun. Maybe Jess and I will take the rest of the day off.
