Unless you (a) live in a happy place, or (b) cannot be forced to read the Post, you're probably aware that Page Six reporter Paula Froelich has penned a bite-sized book entitled It! 9 Secrets of the Rich and Famous That Will Take You to the Top. (That 10th secret would've pushed wee Paula over the edge, we think.) As such, it's time for another round of Gawker's beloved book club, in which we open our selection to any page, at random, and choose a passage of interest or, preferably, absurdity. Now open your books to page 14:

...During my sophomore year at Emory, having already completed the majority of my political science major requirements, I had a nervous breakdown of sorts. (Read: I locked myself in my dorm room for over a week, with only the pie-faced pizza delivery boy dropping by at regular intervals to feed me.) [...] I began obsessively plucking my leg hairs. I know. It wasn't pretty.

No, it's certainly not pretty — it's more than we ever wanted to know, really. Let's just stick with the celeb-whoring and let the Wurtzel types handle the tales of college brooding.

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