Fuggis Hilton

Sometimes I would dearly, dearly love to be a fly on the cavernous, chilly wall of Paris Hilton’s cranial attic — some might call it her “brain,” but I tend to think of it more of a “head-space.”

[Photo: Splash News]

See, I love that Paris’s way of braving the chill and the rain in L.A. was to wear a tiny leather jacket, stretched-thin footless tights, a miniskirt, a halter top she bought the last time she felt it was a Chico’s kind of day, and a fedora to fend off approximately three percent of all the precipitation. And so it all makes me want to read her mind-leaflet, to better understand whether she checked herself out in the mirror and went, “Hott, I look like a sexy-awesome person who might suddenly give away a bunch of money to charities to make the world a better place, or might do body shots off your nape.” Because MY first thought when I saw it was to check if she’s currently starring in a mall production of Guys & Dolls: South Pacific.