Melissa Joan Hart is a Bitch & a Half

She's what we Paramount Pages call a "shy" celebrity. In other words, she hates her fans and wants them all to die slow, nasty deaths.

Ordinarily, I MIGHT be able to look beyond that, but the bitch's fans are 97% innocent, harmless girls, aged 6 - 12. Yeah, the other 3% are probably pervy old dudes, but DAMN - get OVER yourself, you overrated skank!

During my Paramount tour-guide training, we were exhorted to avoid two particular soundstages: StarTrek and Sabrina. To appease the many unfortunate Sabrina fans who took our tour, the Studio set up a phony-ass trailer with a Hollywood Blvd.-style star-plaque on it, bearing the name "Salem" (the talking animatronic cat). The kids got a chuckle out of it, but us tour guides were always under pressure to hustle them along on the tour, away from the "Sabrina" stage, lest Her Majesty come in contact with the people who watch her ridiculous sitcom and therefore fund her Beemer lease.

She's a bitch & a half, y'all.

But this ONE time, I was doing a VIP tour (that's conducted on a Studio golf-cart as opposed to on foot) and I decided to roll the dice. The door on the "Sabrina" stage was partially open - a rarity. (She's "shy," ya know.) I could see the actors in there doing "blocking": learning where to stand, aided by colored strips of tape on the floor.
What a TORTUOUS life those thespians endure.

Anyhoo, my VIP tour included 2 young girls who were HUGE fans of "Sabrina." (I hope they grow out of it.) I smelled a potentially generous tip wafting from the parents, so, like I said, I decided to roll the dice. I put the golf-cart in park and snuck up to the door of the soundstage, kids in tow.

As I was whispering a definition of "blocking" to the girls, I locked eyes with one Ms. Melissa Joan Hart. To this day, I get chills. The bitch wanted me dead, with a quickness. She flagged down an Assistant Director, and here he comes to shoo the young fans away (lest Ms. Hart's precious creative process get somehow thrown off by their presence).

But check it: just as I'm about to get bitch-slapped, Paramount-style, here comes Caroline Rhea.
"Where are you girls from?" She glows. "Come on in! We're rehearsing, if you wanna watch!"

You'd better fucking BELIEVE I locked eyes with Ms. Joan Hart once again and shot her the most withering, smug glare you could ever hate to see. Ooo, I get goose bumps just REMEMBERING the daggers I stared at that stuck-up brat.

Oh yeah - and, to top it off, the girls' parents tipped me TWENTY fucking bucks for that tour.
And if you've ever been a Paramount studio tour-guide, you'll know that $20 is virtually un-fucking-heard-of.

BOO-ya, Melissa Joan Hart - in your skeezed-out face.