We start with Paula wandering through her bedroom as Cojo buzzes around her trying to apply her eyeliner. She’s muttering nonsense as usual, but her tone is definitely different today. Instead of another “horrible!people treat me…where’s God?notneverdrunk” loop, we’re treated to a rendition of “lipgslosses! I want contacts…ilovethisbathroom!” we’ve never heard before! Impressive! Did someone get a nap?
She may be in a better mood, but she’s still busy busy busy so so so crazy busy. Don’t believe me? Just look at the poor little thing!

Hello, MovieFone? Hello? I don’t think he can hear me.

Today she has so much to do and she has to deal with her “real people” friends to boot! Yay! Paula has friends! Who don’t work for her! Aw, I’m totally squirting one out. The girls bring over bags of candy, which is what I always take over to my skinny friend’s houses. I like these girls immediately. Paula takes one look at them and tells Cojo “When I get in my new house, I’m gonna make sure the lighting’s good.” Ouch.

Paula gets a look at what she’d be without Cojo.

The girls want to go to an Oscar Event. They don’t care about the awards ceremony. They’re more interested in the gifting suite. Atta girls! You come with Blow Pops and leave with designer swag. There’s a best selling self help book in there somewhere.
On top of having to wade through oceans of free shit while being nice to the “real people friends”and learning to dial her new BlackBerry, Paula has to worry about moving, too! Since she’s getting work done on her house, she’ll be staying at a rental. She invites Cojo to check out the new space and he reminds her that she asked him to help her design it. She cutely runs out of the room without getting her mascara applied. That kooky diva! Cojo seems to think this remodeling job’s gonna be a cruise in the park, but I’m already scared for him.

Brush your tongue.

In the car ride on the way to the Gifting Suite, Paula tells her real people friends about her painful neck injury and they smile and nod like they haven’t heard any of this before. A neck injury is the worst possible kind of injury any human being could ever suffer. She’s had fourteen surgeries, and the only thing that helps is lots and lots of pills. And vodka. And sex with minors. Then her phone rings and she fights with Publicist Guy, who apparently hasn’t been fired yet. (sad horns) “You can’t put this on me! I feel like you’re blaming me! Where’s God?” Can’t tell what they’re arguing about, but it doesn’t matter. She’s working. I get it. Her friends smile politely and dream of the jewels they’re about to pocket.
While Paula wanders around the halls of the hotel the Gifting Suite is being hosted at trying to find cell service, Cojo wanders around the phat rental house with Interior Designer Lady. He’s working very hard on creating. And by working hard I mean saying “ok, I can’t wait to see what you do!” to the Interior Designer Lady. Paula finally gets through to him, and he tells her that ID Lady has to leave in forty five minutes! That’s bonkers! Paula and her friends just got to the ocean of free crap! She can’t leave now! She doesn’t say this. Instead, she pretends she loses reception, leaving Cojo standing around awkwardly with Real Estate Lady.

So…how bout that Nancy Reagan? What an inspiration, huh?

When forty five minutes are up, Cojo looks sadly out the window like a little kid trying to find his dad in the soccer stands. “I knew she wasn’t gonna come.” Awwww! Cojo! Come here and let me hug you! No, wait. Seriously. Brush your tongue.
Interior Designer Lady tells him not to worry. She’s made many a client happy, he just has to trust her. Meanwhile, Paula picks out a ginormous clunky diamond necklace and then goes into the hallway to argue “it’s his fault! Wah! I didn’t do it!” into the phone. Jesus Christ. What is she talking about? I’m way more interested in these phone conversations than the real people getting free shit and Cojo watching someone design a house storylines. Come on, Bravo! Feed the people!

No wonder your neck hurts.

The next day, Cojo tells us that he is determined to do his job well and make Paula proud. Then he holds open the door for Interior Design Lady to bring all her furniture and assistant designers in. Good job, Cojo! You deserve a raise! For the second day in a row, Paula doesn’t show. This hurts Real Estate Lady, who really wanted to meet her. Cojo looks out the window and sings “Somewhere Out There”. Rentals can really bring out the depression in people.
Paula isn’t shopping today though, she’s sitting around in yesterday’s face waiting for her “doctor” to show up with her happy shot pain medication. Rheumatoid arthritis is the medical condition of the day. Owie. I’d wanna shot too. Thank God for Penny Marshall, MD! She saunters around the bathroom and groovily keeps her Annie Hall glasses on while she explains that Paula just needs a little shot to make her “the Paula we all know and love” again. You mean this one?

Come back to the five and dime, Jimmy Dean.

Dr. Laverne warns Paula that the shot is huge, and it has to be injected super duper slowly. It’s gonna hurt like hell. Paula may scream, and she may not. She may fall down writhing in pain, or maybe not. Jesus, Penny, could ya be a little more specific? Not feeling the utmost confidence in Penny Marshall, MD, Paula tries to find directions on the shot. “Ten seconds? I have to feel pain for ten seconds?” How bad do your organs hurt, whiney? Take your medicine!
Over at the rental house, Cojo is surveying his beautiful work. He hopes Paula will be happy! Meanwhile, Penny Marshall MD is preparing her for the shot. “Slap yourself! Hard! Spank yourself!” Woah, Nelly. Paula does what she’s told, and slaps her stomach. Then she pulls a tiny flab of skin to be pierced. The shot goes in, and Paula sees her life flash before her eyes. Emilio, the cartoon cat, Simon’s boobs in her mouth, Corey Clark publicly betraying her, that time at Panda Express when she…mmmmmm. Panda Express. All better!

My work here is done.

Interior Designer Lady is very nervous about the rental house. Paula is finally getting her ass to see it, and it’s done. If she doesn’t like it, there’ll be hell to pay. Come on, Interior Designer Lady, relax! Paula’s not the type of person to completely brush off making any decisions and then act like a bitch when things aren’t exactly how she wants them! She’s just grateful to be wealthy and have the luxury of being able to move from one fabulous house to another without lifting a finger! HAHAHAHAH Come on people, you don’t think I’m being serious, do ya? Get your heads out of your asses. Paula takes one look at the dump and she’s HELLAPISSED.
First of all, stairs. Stairs? STAIRS! OMG. Stairs. Second of all, tacky, ugly, hideous. Grodie. Blech. Everything, everywhere, nasty. She walks to the birdcage in the corner of the living room. Who the hell would put a creepy birdcage in a house? All she can think of is a dead bird on the floor of the cage and blood dripping out. If I was there, I’d throw her in that tacky cage and lock it. I’ll show you a bleeding bird. She insists it be moved NOW. How could Interior Designer Lady not get Paula’s ESSENCE!?!?
Poor Paula! No one understands her! Cojo says that Paula needs a break from this steaming pile of ugly house, so she’s off to a “wellness center” in San Diego to get more drugs better.
Head Nurse tells us that their goal with Paula is to “make her function again”. Good luck with that. The nurses do some really miraculous work with her, like stretching her out and watching her walk on a treadmill. When she does it without crying, Nurse coos “Good Joooob!” Finally, she gets a nice big shot of…no. She has to see the doctor first. Come on, people. She just stretched for Chrissakes. Give the woman her drugs!

The Doc’s diagnosis? “Paula has a variety of problems unlike most any other person we’ve seen.” You don’t say. He lists many of her problems, including neck, spine, adrenal glad and personality deficiencies, and tells her that to feel better, he’s going to reset her biological clock. Woah!! Where is this doctor and how do I marry him? He doesn’t tell us how he’s gonna do this, exactly. The fountain of youth isn’t just being given away on Bravo, people. Paula recounts the horrible day that she tripped over one of her fat ass dogs and almost died. He brushes her hair and wipes the mascara off her face with his thumbs. AAWWWWW. Paula hugs him and takes the Trapper Keeper full of prescriptions he gives her. Sucka! He fell for it again!!
Now she’ll be able to deal with the house mess like a mature, responsible adult. Not. She calls a Meeting of the Never Minds and demands to know who lost her essence. As usual, everyone stays uncomfortably silent and waits for the 6 o clock show. After everyone’s been served their first course (the salmon’s always a treat), Paula calls up Interior Designer Lady. How can she be expected to live in this shithole and who approved it? Designer Lady says Cojo. Then we get flashbacks of Cojo approving everything. Well what about the pictures Paula sent with her GBF? Interior Designer Lady says she never saw any such pictures. Paula, unable to find any rational excuse for not taking a five minute meeting to plan out the design of this house she claims is sooooo important to her, starts squeezing her face like she’s trying to cry while losing her shit on the poor woman.
You can tell Interior Designer Lady has like five children, because she is not swayed by the hysterics. Just when Paula gets going, she’s shut up. “Alright, Paula. What can we do to make you happy?” Why, take everything out and start over, of course! “Then that’s what we’ll do!” Paula looks down at the phone like Interior Designer Lady is the biggest asshole in the world.

WHERE’S GOD?

And then this commercial comes on:

Coincidence?

And now, a private moment with Paula! “I love dogs! They make me happy! God spelled backwards is God.” Enlightening. Thanks, Bravo.
Paula’s assistants are surrounding her while she’s on the phone with someone who has agreed to give Paula a radio show. HUH? The assistants shriek and cry and tell her how brilliant her proposal was. Umkay. Can’t wait for that show. Move over, Dr. Laura, there’s a new crazy bitch in town. Paula cries and screams to the Heavens, and decides that she’s gonna forget the whole home renovation thing, give up the rental, and stay put. After all, she’s about to be sooooooooo BUSY. WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!

Last week, Paula was not treated like the gift that she is and her Jewelry Rep Guy at QVC had the nerve to ask her to pay for jewelry for the entire cast and crew of American Idol. THE NERVE!
She’s still stuck in Philly waiting to get a plane out to NY to do the Letterman Show. Will it work out, or will she miss another chance to make an ass out of herself on national TV? Only one way to find out! This is Holy Mother, Did You Really Just Say That, Paula? !

The show opens with Paula stuck in her hotel room with the girls from her staff. This is the perfect time to lay her butt down and get some sleep, as she’s really super dreadfully horribly tiiiiiirrreeedddd!!!! Instead, she’s bought beef jerkey shaped (purposely) like dog poop. The only place we’ve seen her shop is at QVC. Are they selling beef jerkey poop over at the QVC store, now? Wouldn’t put it past em. Jackie Stallone needs something to hock. what with her brilliant Papaya Cream off the market. Anyhoo, Paula has decided to put this fake poo in one of her assistant’s beds. Oh, Paula. You’re such a card. And we wonder why these people seem to go out of their way to make Paula fail.

Insert: fake poo pic

The lucky punk’d-ee is Paula’s wardrobe assistant (how many does she have? And why do they all dress her like Stevie Knicks? And how did she not have sweat pants packed for her plane ride? And why does no one know how to treat Paula like a GODDAMN GIFT?!?!) Paula sits outside the Wardrobe Ass. Girls’s door so she can hear her when she screams. Happy Secretary’s Day, sucka!
Finally, Wardrobe Ass does scream. Kiley opens their door and throws the poop out of the room. “Bitch!” LOL, atta girl, K. Paula rolls around the floor laughing. Kind of like how I do week after week when I post this picture.

ROFL!

Paula has been so overworked and exhausted that it felt good to get her laughing endorphins going. Good for you! Glad fuckin’ with your employees gave you a kick. Maybe you should wander the streets of Detroit til you find a freezing homeless person to throw your coffee on. Talk about a lift! It’s nice to see Paula having such a great time. Will this finally be that episode that features a happy Paula?
Not to fear! Treo’s here! Still laughing, Paula checks her phone email. Before she even gets through it, she starts chattering nonsense. “The most…hideous experience for me to go through….how horrible I am treated…” She tells us that the movie Bratz, the one she was working sooooo hard on, has just fired her ass. Woops. Get Publicist Guy on that! Oh, right. You already did.
She just doesn’t understand how she can work her ass off and these things just keep happening! I have a feeling that it has something to do with being a whiny addicted pain in the cornhole who shows up hours late or not at all. Just a guess.

Make Kiley do it for you!

She sobs, and I feel for her. Kinda. Even though I’m laughing. Her wardrobe team is in the other room giggling, which sets her off. She screams at them and we see Kiley stifle laughter, like “what happened to the Joker with the jerky poo?” That personality is dead, girls. Sorry. Get your asses back to putting together some Stevie Knicks-ware for the Letterman show and give time Paula to FEEEL!
Paula asks us, with a crinkly cry-ey face, “Where’s God when you need him?” God had a conflict on this one, hon. He was trying to save The Bratz Movie from extinction. One tacky ho doll at a time.
The next morning, Paula wakes up and swallows three bottles of scrips. Darn. Hope that doesn’t mean no more crying.

Aw, memories. It’s like it just happened yesterday!

She and her crew are still stuck in Detroit, so they go shopping for a bunch of cheezy gifts. Pretty boring so I won’t rehash it here. Paula lost an earring. WAAAHHHHH!!!

Finally, it’s time to go to NY. All she needs to do now is get Cojo and Speechwriter Guy to NY too, so they can get her ready for taping. Once they’re there, she promises us she’ll be one happy girl. “It doesn’t take much, I promise!” Just an entire Summit of worker bees, a maid to pick up at least 15 piles of poo a day, free jewelry, sweat pants for the plane, a blanket to roll around the floor on, and anything off the Panda express menu. Oh, and Cojo. Get me COJO!
Unfortunately (for her, not us), she is gently but firmly told that the boys are snowed in and their flights were cancelled. Uh-oh. Paula starts bitching at Producer Guy. She needs them and she needs them now! She doesn’t have the ABILITY to call salons! Sounds riduclous, but I don’t doubt it. I’ve seen her try to get Doritos out of a snack machine.
Paula has a new assistant who I’m betting will not be around for long. The poor girl looks sad and confused by what’s happening around her at all times, and the few times she’s narrated Paula’s shenanigans for us, she’s sounded like she’s telling a ghost story round a campfire. The show should be about this chick. She’s been on the past couple episodes (…past three. Four? Has she been there the whole time?). but I wouldn’t be able to pick her out in a lineup. Come to think of it, all of Paula’s employees (save Kiley and Cojo) blend into their surroundings. Coincidence? As they are leaving the hotel, Wardrobe Assistant wears a shirt the exact same print as the horrible hotel walls. She looks like a floating face.

If These Walls Could Talk (They’d Be Fired)

In the limo, it’s made clear that Cojo and Speech Guy are snowed in and will not be able to fly. New Girl pretends she’s going over some very important paperwork while Paula loses her shit and repeats “COJO! HAIR MAKEUP! COJO! HAIR MAKEUP!” over and over again. Kiley smiles the whole time, uncomfortable but loving it.
Paula tells us that she is annoyed with her team. She wants an airplane to fly in a snowstorm, and they should make it happen. Producer Guy gets on the horn and over the loop of “COJO! HAIR MAKEUP!” we hear him saying “Hey, yeah it’s me. I’m just calling so we can get in front of this whole weather thing.” Who is he planning on getting to change the weather? I have a feeling he’s just dialing Moviefone until Paula’s meds kick in and she passes out for the rest of the trip. No one mentions that Cojo could die if he flew in a snow storm, but that’s not really the point. Where is Paula supposed to find someone to do her hair and makeup for TV? IN A TELEVISION STUDIO?
Producer Guy repeats “Cojo! Cojo!” into the phone, hoping his boss will see that he’s making an effort. Paula zones out and rocks back and forth for minute. Scrip Trip. Wait a second. Who cares about Cojo? She’s gotta be herself in front of millions of people in a few hours! How the hell is she gonna do that without Speech Guy? Realizing she’s been fighting the wrong battle, she starts sobbing and insisting that if there’s only one seat on a plane, she’d rather have Speech Guy. It’s like Sophie’s Choice. But sadder.
“I’d rather have my hair done at JC Penny than to not have a personality!” Do they do hair at JC Penny? Wait, is that store even still around, or is that just random poor person trivia she’s using for the sake of argument? I’m offended. She cries about being vulnerable as ever and then chokes “I need help!” The first step to recovery. Touching. Limo Driver Guy pulls over to the side of the road and pumps her stomach.
By the time they get to NY, Paula has sobered up (thanks, Limo Guy!) and both Cojo and Speech Guy have made it! How in the Hell did that happen in such short time? Wow. Crying and wailing really works! I have to call and get an extension on my car payment tomorrow. I’m totally using that.
Paula is all sunshine and daffodils now, like nothing ever happened. She’s got her GBF and he’s got his tools to keep them busy for at least a couple of hours. Damn, Paula. No wonder you need Cojo. He has the artillery. She faces her back to the camera during this whole makeup segment so we can’t see what she really looks like under all that MAC. I’d just like to take a moment to thank her for that. HEART.

One rainstorm away from a total meltdown.

With Paula and Cojo off building a face mold, Speech Guy has a chance to grill Dave’s people about what he’s gonna ask her. Paula wants to deliver punchlines, not be them. HA. Good luck there. You’re invited on the show specifically so Dave can make fun of the drunk ass you’ve been publicly the past couple weeks. Who cares how you wanna look? This ain’t a MySpace profile, sista. This is Letterman!
Finally, she’s ready to go. She’s running late, but I’m sure no one’s surprised there. She decides at the last second that she wants to go home right after the show, which sends her assistants into a tizzy. How long has she been in that room? It’s completely wrecked. There are clothes and bits of face everywhere. The girls start hustling, and then horror music starts to play. Cut to New Girl about to have a nervous breakdown in private time with the camera. She’s been working so hard! She’s exhausted! She doesn’t know if she can take it!! Damn, sis. You just started and you’ve already become the monster you work for. Scary.

WAAAAAH!!!! I’m TIRRREEEEEEDDDD!!!!

Paula sits in the limo with Speech Guy, and she is worried. Apparently, there’s a sketch about her being a drug addict in the show, which is crazy since she doesn’t even know how to hold a bong (without spilling dirty resin water all over the place). Riggghhhtt. Speech Guy tells her to chill and laugh at herself to show the world that the drug rumors are just silliness. She points out that she laughed along with Jay Leno’s jokes already and they still haven’t stopped. LOL. Why can’t she do the Top Ten, so the answers are already in front of her? Uh, cuz you’d have to read. That would just make everything worse. Especially since you’re slurring and nodding your head back and forth and sniffing crazily from the bumps you just did before you jumped in the limo. Crazy Pants.
Waiting for at the Letterman Theater, besides drug jokes and public humiliation, is a little girl who is already crying just at the thought of getting to meet her idol. I think she was in that Welcome to the Dollhouse movie a few years ago, but I can’t be sure. Let’s just put it this way. She’s brought a box of Milk Bones to snack on while she waits. I’m not making that up.

Nice teeth! Those Milk Bones are gonna put dentists out of business!

Paula’s a block away now, and she’s slurring worse than ever and babbling complete nonsense. YAY!!! This is gonna be great! There’s sad clarinet music playing under her “gotta get laughs…Letterman…(sniffle eye roll)…huge. Laugh…..” as if the editors are already mourning what’s about to be. Speech Writer just looks away from her. You can see him making a mental note to go on Craigslist later to look for a new gig.
Time for a Personal Paula Moment! I consider watching someone spiral down the staircase of addiction and a most likely early death pretty personal, but ok, I’ll go with ya. Paula sits in her limo and tells Kiley that people think of her as this big celebrity, but they don’t realize that under the thirty pounds of fake face Cojo slathers on every day, she’s just a girl. That would be really deep if it wasn’t a Julia Roberts line from Notting Hill. I’d prefer “I’m not a whore, I’m a dancer!” from Showgirls, but whatevs.
Back to the show! Cameras aren’t let into the Letterman Show, which is LAME, so we don’t get to see how it went. She comes out of the theater even more dazed and confused than when she went in, and tells us in private time that “Dave had fun with me!” I’ll bet he did. If you wanna check out the appearance, click here. She does a pretty good job of not throwing up. Atta girl!
Little Awkward Cry-ie Girl sobs all over her Stevie Knicks threads and gives her her Milkbones to snack on in the car. THANK YOU! Now we won’t have to listen to “I’m huuuungggryyyy!!!” on the limo ride to the airport. The little girl tells the cameras that meeting Crazy Pants was a dream, and she’ll never forget it. Neither will we, hon. Neither will be. Arf!
Next week on Hey, Paula!:

***Late Excuse, from Flipit: I was only planning on recapping the first episode of this wreck for posterity, but after watching our tiiiired heroin whine her way through that one, I had to see the next, and then the next… After last week’s “gift that I am” debacle, I figured that’s it. There’s no way it can get better than that. I’m done. Finally, almost a week later, I turned the show on before bed and my jaw was on the floor. DAMMIT!! So here I am again. Since there are only two eps left, I’ll be here til’ the end! LOVE

Last week, Paula threatened to come after a reporter who suggested she drank, she tried to move the clouds with her garage door opener, and she spun around in a lot of circles without throwing up. Well done!!
As if sensing that our heroin was looking like she was on heroine on national TV, Bravo has changed the theme song from “Straight Up” (Do do ya love me?) to “Nice Guys Finish Last”. If that doesn’t make you “AWWWWW!” then you are a cold hearted bitch. Welcome! This is Jesus Christ, Paula!

You are never going to believe this, but Paula has a busybusybusy ass week ahead of her, and she’s changed her Private Time With the Camera blouse for the first time this season. Someone’s in recovery!! Anyhoo, tonight she’s hosting some dog charity event and then it’s off to QVC to film two shows (and hopefully rip someone a new one for making her “creations” look cheap and fake again) before she flies to NY for a spot on David Letterman. Whew! Are you tiiiiiiiiired yet? She is! And she’s so hungry she could eat a dog. Good one, P! (sad horns.)
The guy in charge of the charity event, Extreme Speech Imediment Guy, explains that In Defense of Animals is raising money tonight to help the homeless dogs and cats still wandering the streets after Hurricane Katrina. Uhhh….ok, but aren’t there things to rebuild? Like, I dunno. Schools? I love dogs and everything, but come on now. Does Spike Lee know about this?

Get the cameras. It’s doco time.

Why the hell are they spending so much time interviewing Extreme Speech Impediment Guy, anyway? Because American Idol ran way late, leaving Paula frazzled and starving to death. Even though she’s supposed to be at the event already, she’s hatched a scheme to hit up Panda Express and Starbucks on her way. Hope someone around her has some cash, cuz she ain’t payin’.

I’m sorry, what?

In lieu of food, her assistant, Cher (it doesn’t matter if you’ve won an Oscar. Bills are bills) offers her some gum. I would have thrown her out of the moving car, but Paula is too busy trying to read her speech. She is completely confused because there are no commas. Or small words. Or pictures. What is she, a mind reader? Mmmmm…..Popeyes!
Meanwhile, ESIG is at the doggy event freaking out. Paula tells Cher to tell his assistant that she’s on her way, but while Cher is on the phone, Paula yells “HOT WINGS’LL DO!” Ouch. Dogs will be dying on the streets of New Orleans because of your damn white trash food cravings. Enjoy that wing. Or not. Trooper that she is, she puts her hunger aside and gets to the event time just to tongue kiss a decidedly not homeless dog. Thanks, Paula. Now no one’s hungry.

Kiss a homeless dog like that and I’ll be impressed.

Paula gives a tiny paragraph of a speech about dogs being awesome. She can’t imagine a home without pets and she can’t imagine a pet without a home. Aw! Not only is that sweet, it’s completely coherent. WTF? She tells the crowd that it’s the first night of studio taping for American Idol and it all comes flooding back to me. There were only a couple nights of AI’s entire season that Paula was any fun (drunk off her ass) at all. Crap. Now you decide to have a reality show? I’m telling you right now, if this series has turned into Hey, Sober Sally!, I’m out of here. I already put up with that crap through 12 weeks of Idol.
Back to the show…Paula’s put in her five minutes of work and now it’s finally time to eat!! Thankfully, Extreme Speech Impediment Guy has put together a basket of goodies he thought was right up her alley. A bucket of wine with some fruit and veggies. She picks through the veggies and finds a tiny cucumber. “Simon”. LOL. I always imagined him with a huge one. Sorry, tmi. Paula is graciously not pleased, but I don’t know why she’s surprised by the display. If you had never seen this show and you were asked to put together a basket for Paula, what would you have added?

I couldn’t find a picture of fruit cake.

She tells us that she’s officially starving to death. That she says this backstage at the Katrina event is both baffling and just plain beautiful. She runs into Brian McKnight while she’s mingling and tells him he has no idea how many of the American Idol kids look up to him. He replies “Oh, I do.” EW! Hope you’re enjoying the charity circuit, dickwad.
As she makes her way to the car with a bag of popcorn, Paula has reduced her complaining to a giggling, babbling hungry hungry hungry hungry. Hungry. She must be telling the truth because she didn’t even end it with TIIIIIRRRRREEEEDDDDDDD!!!

The Never Minds

The next morning, she gets up bright and early for a Meeting of the Never Minds. Her ginormous staff is sitting around the table ready to present to her a dry erase board filled with the days to-do’s. She almost falls out of her chair when she sees it, and I don’t blame her. I love that “moves into house” is thrown in there, like it will take 15 minutes. Where did she get these people, and are any of them planning on doing any of these tasks? Good Lord, woman. Someone send Paula the number to Kelly Staffing Services. Now let’s play a game. How many of these things do you think she will actually get done? I’ve checked off my guesses in bright red.

The Rabbi will just have to wait. Paula looks like she’s about to have a nervous breakdown as The Never Minds blather on and on with to-dos. I am thankful that she’s on her way to QVC in this mental state. I don’t want to ever see a meeting there that isn’t a disaster.
And now for a special never before seen moment of Paula!! As opposed to the past ten minutes, which has been watched over and over by every American family for years. Paula tells on of her assistants that she ran into Paris’ parents and the dad loved her perfume. She told him it was Stank, and he grunted “Paris’ stinks!” Way to be supportive, dad. I can’t imagine why your daughter feels the need to get banged every which way on the internet. It all goes back to daddy.

Mr. Hiltion’s fault.

Ruh roh. Paula’s assistants have handed her a phone without any numbers programmed into it. Sobering up and realizing you’ve been carrying around a phone with no numbers can be very jarring, and she doesn’t take it well. To make it worse, they forgot to remind her to respond to an email from the Chicken Soup for the Soul guy. She was supposed to write a forward for him!! I would love to read that. “Dear Readers: Mmmmmmmm. Soup. I’m huuuuungry!”
She has like twenty assistants today, and none of them look like working bulbs. Check out these two:

Glad to see Gayken found work, but he better get on his game or he and Big Pussy are screwed.

Paula starts crying and losing her shit because no one’s taking care of her. Speaking of incompetence, where’s Publicist Guy today? I hope he’s on vacation. He could really use the rest.

This pic never gets old to me.

Four or five of her staff get her to LAX on time, but make the mistake of leaving her alone to stare into the snack machine. She finally gets a dollar from some random guy. Now all she has to do is figure out how to get the chips to fall down into the little slot. Good luck with that.

Why doesn’t this thing come with instructions?

Finally in Detroit, she has an hour to sleep before pulling a double over at QVC. Did you know that the whole Paula/QVC thing started because Paula makes jewelry for the AI kids every season? Wow! Now it’s an industry! I wonder why my Aunt Josie never did anything with the little dolls she made out of the cardboard center of toilet paper rolls. She could have been a millionaire!
We meet Paula’s Jewelry Rep Guy, who she tells us has had much success selling jewelry and adds that he’s never worked with a celebrity. Foreshadowing!
Her first round of selling goes well, then she gets an all day long break to eat (thank God, because she’s absolutely starving) and shop at the QVC store. Oh, I forgot to mention a very important piece of information. She’s exhausted. She’s beat. And she’s really, REALLY tiiiired. Someone shoot her up with some insulin, already.
She walks through the store and makes some interesting purchases.

Holy Mother of Lip Gloss, woman!

A little girl stares at her while she shops, and I can just hear her dad muttering to himself about not living in that nasty Los Angeles for a reason.

Daddy, I want that lip gloss! And high heels! And boobies! And a boyfriend! And a car! And huge clunky jewelry! And a nose ring! And a karaoke system! And a butt lift! And a prescription! And dinner! I’m staaaarving!

Paula tries to ignore the brat, but it’s pretty hard because she keeps following her around and standing right behind her. Back off, Creepy! Finally, the dad asks if they could get her autograph and picture. Paula freezes for a second like she might punch the kid in the face, but then she takes a big breath and gives the girl a picture. What a pro!
Time for round two of selling. Paula has told Jewelry Rep Guy to set aside some ginormous pieces for the AI kids, but she has a feeling that he didn’t listen to her. Everything sells out! Congrats! Let’s eat and then go take a nap! Nope, that would be waaaay too easy. Paula tells us that she is gonna ask Jewelry Rep Guy where the gifts for the contestants are, and if he has done what she’s told him, she’s gonna be “one happy Paula!” If not….

Of course, Jewelry Rep Guy totally boned it and didn’t save anything. If she wants more ginormous clunky jewelry, she’s gonna have to pay for it out of her own pocket. Those words send Paula down a spiral of depression. She cries to the cameras and talks like she’s in medical shock. Pay? Out of her pocket? She couldn’t even get a bag of Dorito’s out of the snack machine.

PAY?!? How do I even do that?

Paula cries and cries and says that once again, she made a ton of money for other people and was treated like crap. She tells Jewelry Rep Guy that he should be ashamed of himself. But she’s learned and important lesson: Things cost money. It’s a tough one, but with the grace of (Percoset) God, she’ll survive it. And then she utters my favorite line of all time, ever, on any TV show ever made:

Time to get to David Letterman! Woops, a blizzard has hit Detroit. Paula doesn’t get it. How could the snow doooo this to her? She’s a gift!!! Next week, we get to see her yell at people, get the flu, and go on TV when she’s exhausted. You know what that means….

See ya then!!

Previously, Paula made an ass out of herself on national TV when she showed up to an American Idol press junket blitzed off her ass. She’s got a lot to deal with in tonight’s episode, and she’s gonna have to rise to the challenge without pills in her stomach, booze down her gullet, or a needle in her vein. Life is haard. What? You try detoxing when you’re tiiiiiiirrreeedd!!!
I know this is gonna shock you, but today Paula’s very very busy. She has to get to LA for a “gifting suite” and then it’s off to Vegas to receive the Woman of the Year Award. Sorry, Hillary Clinton, but you just didn’t make the cut this year. Maybe you should spend a little less time worrying about suicide bombers and a little more time finding some Ginormous Clunky Jewelry to slap your name on.
Before she does anything, though, she must attend a Summit of I’m Screwed. All the top non advising advisors are in attendance to put out last week’s falling down drunk tiiiiiiirrreeeedd fire. Paula tells us that these rumors that she was wasted have made her mad and saddened, and she doesn’t mince (or properly pronounce) words to the Summit. She’s sick of all these lies in the media and they better do something about it! “I didn’t do ANYTHING!” She insists that she doesn’t do dru….recreational drugs and she’s not drunk (on TV). Heeellppp meee wah waaaah!!! Should she give a press conference? YES!! Please give a press conference!!

Meeting of the Never-Minds

Publicist Guy tells us the truth is that Paula was tired and sick, but “it is what it is”. In other words, she looked like she was wasted and that’s all that matters. His job is to come up with a strategic plan to save our hero, which is awesome because his strategic plan up to now has been to cash his paycheck, nod and smile, and take naps. I’m interested to see what he can come up with now that he’s been called off the bench. Will he advise her to adopt a Katrina baby? Donate a house to Habitat for Humanity? Rehab? Nope, even better! He suggests going back on American Idol and replacing the negative energy with positive. Um… thanks?
She cries and screams at him for doing nothing to refute the alchie accusations. He just shrugs, which sends her into a teary monologue. “I’m sick of…sick! Sick of…I’m treated like dog shit! I didn’t do ANYTHING!!”
No real tears are coming out yet, so she does the finger countdown, telling us what this debacle is costing her. Cue the deep breaths, violins, and the SQEEEEEZE! “I’m losing my reputation (1), my financial gain (2), my creativity (3)…” She looks down and realizes that she has two fingers left and no more things to lose, so she grabs all her fingers and squeezes out “I’m sick of it! Enough is enough already!” (5). The camera guy is very careful to show us over and over that Paula is drinking only Vitamin Water, which makes you really smart. Keep sipping. It just takes time to build up in your system.

Absolut Vitamin

The Summit of I’m Screwed stays quiet and watches her sob. Then Publicity Guy chimes in and shows us why he makes the big bucks. Paula will do every interview she can! And make every appearance! She’s a product, and as long as their product doesn’t suck, they’ll be ok. Can you imagine if every product had this advertising strategy? McDonald’s would have lasted a week. How the hell are we supposed to know what doesn’t suck if you don’t tell us? FIRE THIS TWERP!!!!
Paula decides to take this advice, because really what choice does she have? There’s no saving a forest once it’s already burnt to the ground. All you can do is plant new seeds and wait 20 years. And so, she’s off to LA for the gifting suite. This is where designers bestow free jewels, clothing, and other products on celebrities in exchange for publicity. She’s nervous, because after the past week, she doesn’t know that anyone wants her name attached to their products. Aw, Paula. Versace has a diamond encrusted pill case somewhere in his repertois, I’m sure. She bucks up and goes despite her insecurity, which is astoundingly brave. You’re gonna raise your head high and accept as much free crap as you can. I smell a HERO!

Soldier on, Braveheart.

There’s no sadness a $300,000 ring can’t cure. Jewels are bestowed on her despite her recent troubles, proving that no publicity is bad. The only snag she hits is when she wants a really hideous beaded top that she is told is on hold. Oh, hell no. There isn’t a tag on it! Who’s it being held for? “Someone bigger than me?!?” The designer smiles and tries not to punch her in the face. She stands wobbily firm. She’s not leaving without it. “No taggy, no holdy!” Oh, Paula. Not only does she look like a spoiled brat, she made an Asian joke. Winning the people over, one race at a time.
As they pack the car, Cojo suggests Range Rover come out with a special edition extra large trunk for rich people. Ew! They should also come out with a special edition extra large back seat for rich people’s stylist’s huge asses. Paula doesn’t have money to tip the driver, so Cojo hands over some cash. HAHAHA. He’s so not getting that back.
Paula pats herself on the back for doing such a good job at this appearance. Seriously. Now she’s headed for Vegas to accept her Woman of the Year Award, and she has to…take a deep breath, talk to the media! She’s worried, and I’m so excited I can barely hold in my peepee. Does your back hurt, P? Maybe you should pop a Vicy.
Ruh Roh. They haven’t even had an ounce of fun in Vegas yet and already Publicist Guy finds out a mag in LA is about to run an article that he had no knowledge of. Shocker. It quotes Paula as saying “I’ve never had a drink”, which is a misquote. She is fuming, and gets the editor on the phone. “I never said I never had a drink! I said I didn’t have sexual relations with that woman!” She threatens that if they don’t get her quote right, she’s coming after them. Damn. Threats are a great way to get the press on your side. Dumbass. Next, you should make the press line wait an hour for you so you don’t have to answer any questions. Totally took my advice!!

I do my best thinking from the floor, too. BFF!

She refuses to come out of her dressing room to greet the reporters until the last second, and when she does emerge, it’s with a fresh bottle of Stank. She rubs it all over everyone who crosses her path and tells them how great it smells. No one agrees, but no one slaps her hand away either. She’s like the Costco lady who gets stuck with pigs in a blanket every day. No one goes crazy for her tray, but who’s gonna pass up free weenies?
Finally, she gets outside, where the press line awaits. At first, she is too nervous to stand still, so she just turns in circles. I’m not kidding. She just keeps turning. She’s wearing the same dress from the Grammys, which is pretty lame since she just made out with thousands of dollars worth of free clothes at the gift suite. This dress is like jeans are to a normal person. You get at least five wears before you have to do laundry. I wonder how that dress smells. You know her staff didn’t get it dry cleaned. Old Stank and stale ass is my guess. Tomorrow’s Press: She came out an hour late, spun around in circles, and stank like ass and…well, Stank. Nice work.
The first reporter asks her if she’s been treated unfairly in the press and she says “No, no! I’m not gonna….I’ve been a target. Get over it, ya know?” Oooh. Bad answer. Did anyone prep her? Like I have to ask.

Next, she demands a do over because she had been standing under a blazing heat lamp and her face was melting off. She tries to widdle one reporter’s time down to five minutes instead of seven, but the girl answers “Uh-uh! I’ve been standing out here for over an hour!” LOL, way to stand up for yourself, kid. Seven minutes it is. But it’s coooold!!! Publicist guy snarks “Oh, now we’re cold.” Who’s side are you on, biatch?
Paula turns to him and says she can’t be late for her award and he points at his watch and makes her turn back around. Uh, hello. That was a signal. Girl Reporter asks Paula if she’s crazy. LOL again, Reporter Girl! This bitch doesn’t mess around. Paula says she never claimed not to be crazy. She has to be crazy to be on the re…cip..recipt…recipe…rhinoplasty…reincarnation…rialta..reci…recrecrecrec….recieving end of Simon’s pokes. Just so she gets it, Paula pokes Reporter Girl all over.

Even reporters stationed on the battlefields of Iraq don’t flinch this much.

As she walks away, she realizes that she probably just looked really drunk on camera. “I meant to say reciprocal…I mean recipe…recipreci….no fair!!” She insists that Publicist Guy makes that interview disappear. Riiiight. Good luck with that. Reporter Girl looks gives her a look that says “There’s no way in Hell, lady. Have a drink.”
One interview left. She asks the reporter when he’s ever seen pictures of her out drinking and partying. “As if!” She’s too busy working, and creating, and… multitasking. She doesn’t have time to go out. She gets shitfaced at home or at dinner with friends. A lot of celebrities don’t take being a role model seriously, but she’s been a teacher for twenty years, dammit, and she wants those little girls to look up to her! Um…get on a stool?
Simon, Randy and Tink are there to support her onstage. After Tink makes the obligatory “Cowell shops at Baby Gap” joke, Simon says there would be no heart on American Idol without Paula, and they L-O-V-E her. AWWWW!!!! I almost squirted a couple out.
My heart was refrozen instantly when Robert Goulet popped up on my TV. What the hell is he still doing alive?!? He says nice stuff about Paula, but I can’t hear it because my TV is covered in silly string. Leave me alone, Robert Goulet!

Stop torturing me, Goulet!

Paula’a night was a huuuge success, and she’s proud of facing the media so honestly. LOLOLLLLL!! Wait. She’s not kidding. Oh, and she’s TIIIIIRRRRED!!!!
Since the media bought her pack o’ lies and wrote nice stuff about her, she was invited on the Tonight Show. Kiley is in charge of driving the new Range Rover to the studio, and watching her try to figure out how to back out of the wide ass driveway had me in stitches. Paula yells the whole time and finally takes out her keys and presses the car alarm buttons toward the street. Oh, Paula!

Hey! I made that cloud move!

When she finally gets on the stage, Leno simply asks “What’s goin’ on, nut nut?” Paula says the whole “Paula’s an addict” thing was a mistake. She was being asked one question from one city while she was on air with another, and it made her look crazy during her junket. Ah, honesty. Feels good, doesn’t it? She’s happy as a peach because the (lie pie) interview went well and now the tide is turning… until next week, where she shows up late for something and has a crying cow. I’m not sure what happens, but whatever it is inspires her to utter the line “I’m sick of people not treating me like the gift that I am” with a straight face. Dammit. Now I have to watch next week. I’ll get you for this, Bravo!!!

Nice work, bonehead!

That was actually her second episode. Her first makes a Hell of a lot more sense, and she’s sober the entire time. Boooooooo! Ah, well. That doesn’t mean I had to be! Throw a couple back (you’ll need em) and join me for the first episode ever of my favorite new train wreck: Woooooah, Paula!

Paula starts by introducing herself. She’s been entertaining people for over twenty years!! How? I don’t know, and she doesn’t elaborate, but I have to agree with her all the same. I’ve definitely been entertained.

Better than Cats.

Next, it’s time to meet her staff. There’s Steven Cojocaru, who does her hair and makeup. I usually turn the TV off every time Cojo comes on screen because he reminds me what horrible hair, makeup, and bad kidneys can do to a person, but for the sake of this recap, I’ll put up with his shrill ass. All I do is give, give, give!

Ow! My kidney!

Paula puts down her publicist, Jeff (up to now referred to as Manager Guy), every chance she gets and frankly I don’t blame her. When was the last time you read something good about Paula? Fire his useless ass already, girl! In the last episode I recapped (the not pilot, DOI) Jeff sat in the greenroom blabbing to the cameras while Paula had her most embarrassing and public drunken meltdown to date. He better hope she never sobers up, or his kids are gonna have to work their way through college.

Enabling the disabled all the way to the bank.

Kiley is Paula’s wardrobe stylist, and I like her immediately because she admits early on that she sometimes sleeps in Paula’s closet. You have to wonder how many times she’s run into a tipsy Paula in there and had a girl camping night. Awww! Girl power!

Wanna nap together?

To round out her little family are her kids! Alarmed? Don’t call Social Services. Call Animal Control.

So there are five yappy bitches up in this hizz.

As we learned from the second episode, Paula’s TIIIRRREDD! Today is no different. She’s going to the Grammys, then to Philly for her 1AM slot on the QVC channel (where she hocks her Ginormous Clunky Jewelry), and then she’s off to rehab. One of these pieces of info is false. Can you guess which one?

I’ll give you a hint. It rhymes with treecab.

Kiley shows Paula her fabulous loaned jewelry for the Grammys, and immediately one dog runs off with a necklace and another eats a ring. Thank goodness it’s all costume stuff. Wait. It’s worth a couple mil? Woops.

Hey! That ring’s supposed to go down my throat!

Paula’s producing a movie based on the Bratz dolls, and she’s also designing all of the costumes. Well, she’s paying someone to design them and taking the money and the credit, but why split hairs? She brings in Cojo to check out her “work” and he smiles big. Wowieeee, Paula! She tells us that she put all her money into these designs months ago, but now the producers aren’t returning her calls. Ouch. People can be rude assholes when they aren’t on your payroll.

Time to get dressed for the red carpet. Cojo tells us it takes 4 hours to get Paula into makeup. Yikes. I hope we get to see some shots of what she looks like without all that gunk on her face.

OK, maybe not.

She tries to figure out why she’s always on the worst dressed list while Cojo says “that’s beautiful!” to every tacky ass dress she points at. Man, did Charo die? Because it looks like someone made a killing at her estate sale.

Coochie-coochie-coo!

The maid is outside cleaning up the dog poop and Paula shouts out about how sorry she is. She insists that the poop is too big to be from any of her dogs. Stop digging right there, Paula. It’s a late night flashback no one wants to see. The maid stops to listen, but can’t understand a word Paula’s saying. At least it’s not just me.

Vote for amnesty!

During hour three of face molding, Publicist Guy is on the phone with Lawyer Guy. The Bratz people called. They want the wardrobe specs sent over right now so they can “integrate them” into the film. This most likely means that there’s only a day of shooting left, so they better get the boss’ ugly threads on the bony cast members before the shit hits the fan. Publicist Guy relays this to Paula, and she has a fit. How could these people be so disrespectful? She’s put her heart and soul into this project and they treat her like this? No one understands brats like she does! Agreed. He goes back into his office and wishy washies his way through the call. Nothing’s really settled, but it seems so far that that’s what Publicist Guy does. He doesn’t settle everything. Nice work!

So let’s make sure we’re on the same page. Nothing’s settled, right? Perfect! Good work, Lawyer Guy. Let’s go eat sometime.

Cojo riles up Paula even more by telling her the other producers are just trying to beat her down and she repeats it and stares into her own eyes through the mirror. “They’re trying to beat me down!” Yes, Paula. You’re the Rosa Parks of our time.

She ponders over all the reasons she’s only won one Grammy. Unfortunately, Grammys aren’t won with popularity, or she would have zillions of them! They are won with talent. None of her staff says anything. Ah, what does she care? “The last time I recorded an album, Bill and Hillary were having sex.” HAHAAA! Good one, P.

After what seems like 12 hours of ranting to Cojo, torturing her maid and making out with her dogs, Paula is dressed and ready to hit the red carpet. Before she leaves, she needs the approval of her maid. Smart move. Maids will tell you like it is. My childhood maid, Romana, was the first person to ever tell me what a fat ass I was. I actually had no idea I was supposed to hate myself until that first day of fourth grade. Thanks, Romana! Aw, memories. Marina doesn’t give a crap one way or the other what Paula wears, and why should she? She’s just spent the day shoveling up dog poo. I hope Marina learns fluent English soon so she can stop nodding and smiling and tell Paula what’s really on her mind.

I’ll cut you, puta.

Paula runs into Joan and Melissa on the red carpet and gets her wish. They don’t trash her! YAY. That said, these three women standing together…wow.

Hocus Pocus: Thirty Year Reunion Special

It’s nine thirty one and twenty two seconds and a fourth of a millisecond, and Paula’s staff is in the limo somewhere worried because they don’t know where she is. One assistant’s all “OMG where is she? We’re gonna be soooo late!” and then her other assistant’s like “holy crap OMG I dunno where is she?” and then the other one’s all “holy mother of all that’s good. Where is she?”

Commercial. Holy crap OMG I’m on the edge of my seat. Where is she?

Dude, where’s my car?

Wandering around downtown in her Valentino gown. Cars stop and ghetto guys give her shout outs. “We love you, Paula!” “You’re forever my girl!” She waves and trips all over herself until she finds her girls. She tells them this is the first time she wore something to the Grammys that got a good reception. Melissa said “nice dress”, but Joan just smiled tightly. “I wanted to say, hey, Joan, what doctor’s your face wearing?” LOL, Paula. That’s twice! And she hasn’t been wasted yet this episode. Hey! Wait a second! Stop wasting my time!

And then the limo crashes into a fiery blaze. Nope. And then, Paula discovers she has uterine cancer. Nope. WORSE. Her assistants have forgotten to pack sweatpants for the plane ride! The terrorists won! Paula isn’t happy, so she looks at the camera like “can you believe these retards?” while she makes them pull over and search the trunk for something breezy. If she’s not comfie on the plane, she won’t sleep, and we know what happens when Paula doesn’t get her sleep.

Hard to sell Ginormous Clunky jewelry when you’re wasted on the floor. Then no one can find her id and she gives the camera more “everyone around me is mentally handicapped” looks. Um, carry your own id, ass. With 14 minutes and 36 seconds to spare, she gets her butt out of the limo and into the airport. Old tacky women across America didn’t even know how close they came to not having the opportunity to buy their huge costume jewelry. Crisis averted!

Woops, spoke too soon. A whole team of Ginormous Clunky Jewelry specialists await Paula at the QVC Headquarters. After hugging them all and telling them what stars they all are, Paula loses her shit. This isn’t the jewelry she designed! They try to calmly explain to her that watches that make you fly and earrings that turn you invisible are impossible to manufacture, but Paula’s not having it. She doesn’t really have an intelligent argument for the team, so she just repeats “no” over and over again and glares at the camera.

You’re tellin’ me.

One lady nods her head like she’s dealing with a two year old and assures Paula that “the QVC audience will get it,” which cracks me up. The QVC audience so doesn’t get it, which keeps Paula Abdul employed. Shut up and take the checks, woman. Meanwhile, Publicist Guy plays paper soccer on the conference table and ignores everything going on. Paula’s looking like a real asshole right now on national TV, Publicist Guy. Hope you scored a point over there. Dumbass.

I wonder what we’re gonna have for dinner.

Fifteen minutes til’ show time, and Paula’s telling QVC that it’s not fair for them to expect huge numbers this time, because American Idol’s not on the air. It’s not fair? Um, we’re investing a lot of money in your crap enamel “dream”, sell it or bail, loozah. Of course no one says this, but I hear them thinking it from here.

Tell me you don’t hear that.

Out in the lobby, Publicist Guy’s telling the cameras how much Paula loves being creative. Then maybe she should try that for awhile, instead of stamping her name on other people’s designs and making life hell for everyone around her. He hopes that she sells a lot, or she’ll be crushed. And we all know what happens when Paula’s crushed…

Whyyyyyyyyy???!?!?!?!?!

All of Paula’s items sell out! Who the hell is watching this channel? Oh, this is who.

Ginormous Clunky Jewelry: Saving one life at a time.

God bless America. Back in the limo on the way to the airport, she congratulates her assistants on a job well done. Pause. You did a good job, too, Publicist Guy!

Give this guy a raise!

Coming up next week, Paula cries and cries and cries. Tune in!

I have a pretty busy Summer of recapping about to commence over at the ‘gasm, but when I saw the pilot episode of this show, I couldn’t resist throwing together a romp through Crazy Town for you.

I found that it was pretty difficult to describe exactly what went down (nailing Paula’s English alone can take hours) in words, but I did my best. I have never felt such joy, pity, jubilation, and grief at one time. If you have any Vicodin, Percoset, or hell, spray paint to ingest, pull it out now, put your hands in the air and HOLLA! All together now! HEY, PAULA!!

Paula’s a busy busy busy busy busy STAR, dammit, and she’s tiiired! What a week she’s about to have! She’s in New York to put her face in this machine to test her new stanky perfume…

…and while she’s there she’s gonna accept a Ginormous Clunky Jewelry Award…

…and when she’s done with that she has to do a ton of press appearances for American Idol, my favorite of which turned into one of her most embarrassing recent memories blackouts.

As she sits in her limo, she shakes her head at the camera and her HUGE jewelry makes that familiar sound of iced tea being stirred on a Summer day. Can you believe how BUSY she is?!? She just got off the plane and already she’ss runnin’ outd thedooor.

Gee golly, life is friggincraazy, guyz!

Paula puts periods in all the wrong places and slurs every other word, and I spend the first five minutes of the episode trying to get a look at her pupils. I don’t care what she tells the press. She’s either wasted or she’s got MS. Either way, it’s kind of endearing. I heard you groan. Shut it. I said KINDA.

She pretends to give her manager an update on her life, like he hasn’t been subjected to her loony bs 24/7 for as long as he can remember. Since she’s gonna be accepting her Ginormous Clunky Jewelry Award in 14 minutes and 58 seconds, he suggests she come up with something to say. Now there’s an idea.

I have a fashion for design. Wait…I have a fashion for passion. Fashionpassion. Passion design. Passionfashionfashionpassion.

She nods proudly, like she just wrote “I Had a Dream”. Manager Guy, familiar with his boss’ loose grasp of language, hands over the speech he wrote for her. As she squints at the words and stumbles all over the page, he explains to us that Paula usually just gets to improvise her lines and isn’t used to, you know, reading stuff. Wait a second, Manager Guy! Are you telling me thoughtful and provocative lines like “you…you…look beautiful, voice stun…azing pretty wow yay shut up Simon trying to say, wow pretty wow fantast…azing” isn’t written by a team of Emmy winning scribes? I’m stunned.

Oooonnn. On. Ooor. Or. D.

I was rooting for her as she tried to figure out the word “honored”, and when she finally sounded through it, I cheered out loud.

The Limo driver turns around and looks at her like he’s trying to figure out if she’s seriously this afflicted or if she’s kidding.

She’s not kidding. Watch the road.

“I want mazmalsoup now!” Paula exclaims out of nowhere. Huh? Manager Guy explains that everyone at the Awards Dinner is already eating. She’s just there to give her speech and get out. What? No food? She’s gotta have food, or the pills in her stomach will start knocking up against each other and fighting out twelve rounds of crazy in front of a few hundred people. She warns us that this speech could wind up being the biggest disaster in her life. You sure about that? Think back.

Mr. Make It Work himself, Tim Gunn, is presenting her award while she’s outside posing for pictures and shaking babies. Poor Tim has to repeat the speech a few times, and by the time she slinks in the back door, he’s made it sound like she’s received 878 MTV Video Awards.

So, ginormous clunky jewelry, huh?

Manager Guy is worried. Paula’s tired, hungry, and she can’t read. He bows his head and prays, and even with a war, testicular cancer, and high gas prices on his roster, God listens! Paula starts off a little shakily, but after a while she’s leaning all over the podium and making people laugh with Simon jokes like, well, Paula Abdul.

After Tim Gunn blows sparkles up her cornhole and Ginormous Chunky Jewelry students fawn over her in the lobby, she demands her award and CONGRATS! It’s more hair!

She parties til 2:30 then, shitfaced, stumbles into a Starbucks and panhandles for a latte. Seriously. She begs for money. If the lady behind the counter had any brains at all, she would have offered a trade for the thirty pound golden snake on Blitzo’s wrist. No? Fine. Work the graveyard shift at Starbucks the rest of your life. What do I care?

People scream for Paula and tell her they love her, but where were they when she needed some change? It took way to long to get a chai. Fans can be fickle little pickles. As she tries to get in her limo, she teaches us how to sit down into a car.

First, grab onto the door and hope no one closes it.

Jump backwards.

Fall on the floor.

Paula bounces around the limo. It’s now 5AM. WOAH. It really did take way to long to get that chai. Two and a half hours? What the hell was she doing in the Starbucks for that long? I am glad we weren’t shown, because my face is already frozen in distress.

Paula has a Stank Scent meeting in a few hours, and Manager Guy tells her “we need you to sleep”. She can’t! She has (a coke addiction) insomnia! It started a few (bumps) hours ago and she just can’t (focus) rest!

She makes it to her meeting at the Perfume Lab on time, and hugs a bunch of phony bitches with fake names like she knows them. Come on now, Perfume Ladies! No mother names their child Honorine or Jorgelina. Don’t front.

They dab different scents on blotter papers for Paula to smell, but she can barely sit up. She moans and groans like she’s having a naughty dream and boo bop de doos like Sammy Davis Jr. She tries catching invisible flies for awhile and then at one point, she holds a blotter to her nose, closes her eyes, and freezes for an uncomfortable amount of time.

Honorine (Helen) and Jorgelina (Jane) stare at her awkwardly.

Is she dead?

Nope, she’s back! Time to put on a lab coat and human test some chemicals! She knocks things over and drops blotters on the floor. When she picks them up, she plops right down on the ground and wipes the chemicals all over herself. The Smell Technician tells her she’s mixing violet and rose on her skin, and she starts rocking back and forth repeating “uh-oh” over and over and moving the edge of the paper across her wrist, threatening to commit suicide by paper cuts. Smell Technician coos “It’s okaaaay!” like he’s trying to talk a mentally retarded child down after seeing a clown for the first time. Jesus Christ, this poor woman. Someone, anyone, please help Paula Abdul!

I’ve been a bad girl, mama!

The wind changes and she starts cracking up, still rocking back and forth.

I want this floor smell!

She gets up and bathes herself in floor scent before rubbing up against every male in the lab. She promises that Stank will get every man in the world horny as hell. Worked on this guy.

Stank’s first boner.

That night, she tells her assistants that she’s tiiiiired. Then she tells the cameras she’s tiiiiiired. Then she closes her eyes and swipes at the air murmuring about the coffee at Dunkin’ Donuts. As she gets out of the limo, she bumps her head, screams “OW!” and tells the chauffeur that she’s, EVERYBODY NOW! TIIIIIIRRREEEDDD!!!

Day Three is press junket day, and it’s awesome to see the behind the scenes footage from the interviews that’ve since been blared into every home in America, making sloppy, sad, drunken pop culture history.

Paula’ll be on satellite with Fox affiliates across the US this morning and she’s BUSTED. She’s suffering from exhaustion, the flu, and drug addiction, but she’s a trooper. It’s her job to make us cringe and question this country’s prescription abuse, and she’s gonna follow through.

Reporter: Good morning, Paula!

Paula looks around the room and tries to figure out where that voice is coming from.

Reporter: Good morning, Paula!

She slaps her own head and almost falls off her stool. “Oh! Is that what it is?”

Reporter: (sound of crickets)

Through forty interviews, Paula giggles and waves her arms and slurs out Maya Angelou poems, for all we know. Something about twirling fire, using publicity, and “Imadaancer!!” As her montage of shame rolls on and on and on, Manager Guy tells us that Paula’s tired. Yeah, ass. We know. This guy needs to be fired and replaced with, I don’t know. Me.

Snap your bony ass out of it and straighten up, Missy! You look like an asshole!

Nope, yes men it is. This is the saddest part of the whole thing, because even though Paula has lots of people around her, there isn’t one true honest friend. Maybe she should have lunch on the Fox lot every once in awhile, because I know someone who would be her perfect BFF.

Next week, Paula’s completely screwed. And of course, TIIIIIIRRRREEEEEDDDD!!!