Let me offer this synopsis of the Prejean affair...in Valley Girl (cause ninth grade is as ninth grade does).
Perez Hilton: Um, like, whaddya think about the, like, whole gay marriage thing? Great swim suit!
Carrie Prejean: Oh! I am so, like, totally against it. For sure! I was taught that, um, opposite marriage, you know, when it's one man and one woman like King Solomon--wait! He had wives and a harem! Shoot! But we live in, a um, free country...as long as you're straight...like God intended all along. Yeah! And your shoes don't match your outfit.
Hilton: Don't make me come up there and slap you, honey! And your boobs look fake.
Prejean: I lost? No way!
Pageant Officials: Way!
Prejean: Just because I said I believed in Proposition 8--that is after I figured out it wasn't like having a bunch of old guys hit on you.
Us: That's...nevermind.
Pageant Organizers: She'd better get her lip gloss on straight, cause we have malls to visit. Stop with the news junkets. We didn't say you could go.
Prejean: So, I'm like a martyr, suffering so all of God's children can say proudly: Gay people shouldn't be allowed to get married. God's giving them a marital time-out!
Organizers: The Mall! Really!
Prejean: ..and keep that slutty runner-up away from me. She's so hates me. Is she wearing my sweater? Bitch!
All of Us: ...the hell?
Hilton: Boobs. Fake. Really.
Prejean: God bless you, totally. You queer child of a lesser God. For sure.
Team Obama: Holy crap! Carrie Prejean agrees with our stance on gay marriage...We're, like, so screwed. Heads down, guys.
HuffPo: Guess what we found? Pictures of her tata's and she's NAKED. Oh. My. God!
Prejean: I walked in and saw my Dad's housemate in bed with another guy. Spying? Nuh uh! I was just in the hallway. Looking in the crack of the door. For 15 minutes.
Donald Trump: Fired? Nuh uh. She's so making me lots of cheddar.
Us: Yawn.
Prejean: (wearing her heart on her sleeve) They're just out to get me. I'm blond. I'm pretty. I've been doing Pilates.
Right Wing Chattersphere: Poor Carrie. Come talk to us. We hate them, too. And so does Jesus. And they're wearing last years' Jimmy Choos.
Keith Lewis (pageant official): Here's this really cool thing you can do that may make you a star. I'll book it on my pewter gray Blackberry with the glitter butterfly on it.
Prejean: What really cool thing?
Lewis: I told you before, silly. Go read it again. It's totally cool. You'll love it.
Prejean: You're secret BFFs with the Miss Cali runner up. You. HATE. Me!
Lewis: Carrie, really. I don't hate you. I don't even like you (what...ever!).
Prejean: Well you're not the boss of me.
Lewis: I kind of am
Prejean: But I'm going to be judging the Special Olympics and being a guest DJ! And I get to do the headsets and everything. Mom!
Lewis (counting to 10): 7...8...9...Don't say it...10. Just keep us posted. We track all of your events on our master calendar. It has stickers...and MORE GLITTER!
Prejean: Well, I want an entourage. Like that guy in that teevee show. What was it called...?
Lewis: Entourage?
Prejean: (screaming hysterically) I'm getting a half caff soy mocha frappuccino with skinny whip and a celery stick. L8r h8rs!
Trump: You are so outta here!
Us: (sigh)