Lately I’ve been trying to come up with some get-rich-quick schemes in order to keep me off the streets and support my addictions – shopping and sushi. Short of throwing myself in front of a moving vehicle, I’ve really been struggling to find an easy way to make a ton of cash. But apparently, in this day an age, all a girl has to do is invest in some hair extensions and an upgrade in boob size in order to make her millions.
No, I’m not referring to prostitution. Unless that’s what you consider the girls on the VH1 series “Rock of Love Bus” who make $1,500 per personal appearance. So I guess my new life plan should be: take part in a ridiculous reality series, make my way onto the D-list next to Kathy Griffin and then rake in the cash by going to fabulous parties and charging for it.
I just want to know one thing, who in their right mind would pay Johanna Botta from The Real World Austin $1,000 to hang out with them? She may be a former Miss Peru, but you’re in America now, Joanna. That’s not how we roll.
And another thing; disregarding what she makes per episode on the Real Housewives of Atlanta, did you know that gold digging, man stealing, “Tardy for the Party” singing Kim Zolciak charges $8,000-$10,000 per personal appearance? (Editor’s Note: I’d pay that much NOT to be in a room with that mess. Unless she’d perform live. Then I’d pay that fo sho.) Well of course these women are going to be rich and fabulous wherever they go; Bravo pays them thousands of dollars just to show up! Kim needs another skin-tight, boobie-poppin’ dress to match her new wig? No problem, just show up at some random party and demand payment.
But the one so-called celebrity that really grinds my gears is Paris Hilton. Does anyone know what she’s famous for anyway? A few whacked out reality series under her belt and now she charges a $100,000 personal appearance fee. I’d be lucky if I made that in a year. Really lucky. Does anyone even like Paris Hilton? Could anyone like her enough to spend $100k and risk herpes/HPV? You’d be better off paying me to show up at your party. And unlike Paris, I wouldn’t make you dress up or kiss my ass to be my BFF.
Where do D-list celebs draw the line? Do they expect to get paid to show up at their own birthday party? I guess 15 minutes of television fame isn’t enough for these people. They’re milking the publicity cow for all it’s worth. So please let me know when the next Rock of Love Bus is due into the station. I’ll stroke Bret Michael’s ego and synthetic hair for that kind of cash flow.