I am SO #overyou. I had been reading Perez Hilton since 2006, and loved your whole shtick about being this big gay man with hot pink hair that didn’t apologize for being a completely irrationally judgmental scumbag. Perez was the first thing I checked when I woke up in the morning, and I was addicted to your unapologetic voice and transparent honesty with your loyal, devoted readers.
I appreciated your dedication, and knowing that you were a random coffee-house blogger made you feel like the every-girl’s People Mag, sharing the truth with the celebrity-infatuated public, eagerly awaiting the latest updates on Britney’s bald, umbrella meltdown. Perez was all my friends could talk about. “Did you see Perez?” and “Perez said…” were more a part of my high school lunchroom conversations than classic gossip schoolgirl drama of “She broke up with him during 4th period?!”
We all lived off of your word and I found myself truly connecting to your views in the way readers should grow to love their favorite bloggers. If Perez liked this new crazy underground artist called “Lady Gaga,” then I learned to love her too. If Perez was voting for and supporting Barack Obama, then I suddenly agreed with a change, too.
I had grown from reader to minion in no time, and considered it the highlight of my life when I went to your book signing, took a picture, and ended up on the website itself. (I was a celebrity! I had made it! And I didn’t have to do drugs to get there!)
Then, suddenly, I wasn’t the only Perez-head. Everyone loved you, and suddenly the ads on your site were getting much more legitimate. Site takeovers? Name brands? Had my beloved bestie gone mainstream sellout?
You had. It was heartbreaking. Suddenly, celebrities you had abhorred and criticized for years were “not so bad” after reaching peace agreements with a now aggressively influential blogger. Paris Hilton was less of a train wreck and more “misunderstood,” and I knew you had lost your bite and your bark. Blog entries were clearly written by interns and other writers, and “Perez” was a personality, not just an everyday guy in a coffee-house. You were meeting celebrities and befriending the A-listers you’d spent years tearing down via doodled-on devil horns. The doodles went from horns to halos, and Perez Hilton became nothing more than a glorified, pastel pink Life & Style.com. I had turned to your for my daily dose of “unconcentrated” celebrity juice, like the masthead read, I wanted the truth, I wanted the honest dirt, and now you had crossed over to the glittered side and were one of them. You lost your charm and nastiness when you lost a significant amount of weight, and got too cool for hater blogging, and subsequently, your site is boring and underwhelming, and barely breaks news first anymore as it did during the glory days of ’08.
Whether I outgrew Perez because I outgrew celebrity gossip and began to anticipate the next Facebook conference more, is debatable. Still, Perez Hilton, you once held a significant place in my heart before you decided to have one yourself, and completely toss all that your blog had originally stood for, and all that had once drawn me to your blog eighteen times a day. The memory of the old Perez will live on as my once favorite blog, and I will instead turn to the twitterverse for the latest news from my new favorite, trusted sources. R.I.P.