(image via msn.com)

Perez Hilton.

He’s the blogger we all love to hate, he’s the blogger we all want to be. His name is synonymous with juicy, dirty, sleazy pop scandal, rumors and gossip.

Don’t know what hospital Britney checked into? Go to Perez. What famous name is coming out of the closet next? Perez knows. Want to look at a few photos of your favorite movie star with random words and penises drawn on their face? Perez Hilton’s got your back.

To me, Perez Hilton is an enigma. A pink and sparkly enigma wrapped in a question-mark, shrouded in mystery, and dipped in a steaming vat of “How Did He Do It?” This is a question I’d love to ask the man responsible for 50% of the gossip in my sorority house. With the exorbitant amount of content he is generating each day, It seems to me that Perez is as omniscient as Stephen Hawking. The guy must know everything.

I must admit, I am “im-Perez-ed.” Whatever he’s doing, it’s made him the most well-known celebrity blogger of our time. In fact, he himself has become a demi-pop culture icon. Yet, although I must give him respect for his success, I still can’t decide if I like the guy or not. I guess my indecision really doesn’t matter, as he’s still getting paid for however many clicks it takes me to decide whether I’ll stay on his page or move on to The Superficial. Love him or hate him, the guy knows what he’s doing. And I’ll probably still keep coming back to his site. And although I cringe every time I see genitalia and the words ”gay gay gay!” scribbled all over Zac Efron’s face, nobody keeps us updated like Perez.