Ellen Gray | Lens is on Abdul in Bravo's 'Hey Paula'

HEY PAULA. 10 p.m. tomorrow, Bravo.

YOU KNOW those I.Q. tests that occasionally pop up online?


Here's a much easier way to find out if you might be Mensa material.

Start with 100. Heck, you're reading a newspaper - start with 120.

Now look behind you - quickly. Are people with cameras following you? If not, breathe a sigh of relief and keep all your points.

Add 10 points if cameras are there, but the Secret Service is, too.

Add 5 points if you're George Clooney or Angelina Jolie and you're leading the cameras to someplace where people are suffering and you think the presence of paparazzi might bring attention to their plight.

Lose those points and 5 more if the place where people are suffering is a room with a TV set.

Deduct 5 points if you're a recently indicted public figure.

Deduct 10 if you're Paris Hilton. Then keep deducting until you run out of fingers and toes.

Now - and here's where it gets tricky - ask yourself: "Did I arrange for those cameras to follow me around? Will I let them follow me home? Will they be there when I throw tantrums in the limo because my friends/ assistants forgot to pack the comfy sweats - and the white, not the black tennies - for a red-eye flight? Will I encourage them to take closeup shots of giant dog poop, even if it doesn't belong to any of my own dogs?

If you answer "yes" to more than three of those questions, you can stop adding and subtracting now.

Because you're Paula Abdul.

The "American Idol" judge tomorrow night follows in the sometimes unsteady footsteps of Farrah Fawcett, Jessica Simpson and the late Anna Nicole Smith, taking center stage in her own "reality" show, Bravo's "Hey Paula," in which the plucky brunette proves that blondes - even barely coherent blondes - do indeed have more fun.

If you thought being Kathy Griffin ("My Life on the D-List") looked like hard work, it's nothing next to the nightmarish schedule that Abdul endures designing outfits for a live-action movie based on the Bratz dolls, selling her gold- and silver-tone jewelry on QVC and fighting her way off the worst-dressed list, one red carpet at a time.

"I'm Paula Abdul. I've been entertaining people for over 20 years," our star informs us, then introduces us to her "best friend" (and stylist), Daniel, as well as her publicist, her wardrobe assistant and her four small dogs.

"You know, I'm just like everyone else," she adds, failing to mention which of the dogs she was trying to avoid landing on when she broke her nose.

She also refuses to implicate any of the dogs in the case of the aforementioned giant poop, whose appearance on screen might signal that even the camera crew was already losing interest in watching Paula.

She does, however, take random shots at fellow "Idol" judge Simon Cowell - who's nowhere to be seen - as if rehearsing for next season.

Philadelphians who might have spotted Abdul at our airport the morning after the Grammys - we see her signing an autograph there before heading off to QVC in West Chester - will now learn the horror that preceded that visit, beginning with a "lost" limo and ending with Abdul in flight in too-tight-to-sleep-in jeans and high-heeled boots.

"It can't get any worse than this - there's no way," declares Daniel-the-Stylist during a medley of clips from upcoming episodes.

Let's hope not, or we'll all be out of points. *

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