I never liked Paris. I never hated Paris. I never really had an actual opinion about Paris. Until now. Some brilliant guy at work referred to her as a waste of a life yesterday. If it wouldn't have costed me a paycheck, I would've probably laughed in his face, hoping some spit came out. Paris is a waste of life, said the emo I borrow my clothes from eight year old girls who think i'm totally awesome cause ... i'm in a band fuck. Please.
Paris was released from Jail/Prison/Not Beverly Hills today. I like her now. Not because she confessed to Dust Box [aka Barbara Walters] that she was going to change her ways because she's not that superficial girl anymore and didn't look at herself in Prison, but because she totally defied America when she went and got 20 inch blonde hair extensions put in. I'm sorry. [chuckle] Did I say went? I confused Paris with a homeless man. She had her new extensions personally delivered to her hollywood hills home ... no wait ... The Hilton home in Bel Air? ... No ... Beachside home in Malibu? ... No ... Grandparents Home in Bel Air ... No? Where the fuck is she?
You know what. I don't even fucking care. I hate that stupid little blonde bitch anyway. With her amazing car and like, wads of cash. She really needs to like, totally donate that shit to some people who can't afford hand towels.
This is the part where I pretend like I've just left Paris a voicemail.
Here's the deal Blonde Robot. I'm going to stalk you cause I'm broke and bored. People want to be pretty too and since they can't, I'll use you. You'll become like totally famous and everyone will look up to you. Let's get you a 2 oz animal ... PUPPY! Puppy. Little girls like Puppies. Oo and candy. Make sure you always have a tiny dog and sucker in your mouth. We want your 26 year old ass to appeal to nine year olds. Once we've sucked in the naive bitches, we'll get you hammered and sexed out so you can appeal to the rest of your age group. Ooo. Except the ones with babies n shit. Eww. That'll get the mothers in a tizzy when little Tiffany runs around the house with just a bikini top on mumbling "that's hot mama, that's hot." That's when we'll make you take pictures with half of Hollywood so it looks like everyone's the best of friends. I'll get you hooked up with Lindsay Lohan. Oops. Strike a nerve? Scratch that from the record Marv. Britney Spears? Yeah? Yea. We'll get you hooked up with Britney Spears for about a week. Ya'll can run wild and throw cash from your limo. & don't worry about little Sean Preston. I've got that entire situation covered. Once you're done being the sole purpose for Britney Spears losing her mind, I'm gonna have you lay low. Only for a minute though. We can't let the world lose the imprint of your face in their brain. Alberts going to drive you to a club one night and you're going to get a little drunk. I'm going to then send him home, forcing you to drive yourself. That's when the cops will surprisingly jump out and arrest you. I already told them not too tight. Yes. I'll have the cameras waiting in place. Once that settles down, I'm going to need you to drive down the busiest street in Hollywood without headlights. Trust me. It's gonna get you attention girl. This next part is going to be a little sketchy and you might hate it but I'm the epitomy of knowledge. Trust my Judgement. We're gonna send u to Jail. I know. I know. Harsh. But this is going to be our way of letting the world think shit is fair. It's gonna be brilliant. The judge is going to give you 45 days. However, we're going to let you out within three [some might call it five] days. To really stir the American pot. You're going to look all pleased and shit and then we're going to send you back. I'm sorry Princess but we've got to keep America happy. We've gotta pull out all the stops when they're bored. They need shit to talk about on their smoke breaks. However, you're only going to serve 23 of the 45 days. Did I mention that? I'm going to try and contact every single network on the planet to be at your release. It'll be phenominal. We've scheduled you for Larry King on Wednesday. No. You're not getting your million dollar paycheck from him because it'd be totally silly to pay you to tell us about a planned prison trip. So instead of saying we're paying you for an interview, we're going to give you a million dollars to teach people how to be like you. Because you my dear are a fucking Brand. When you go on Larry King, you must slide all of my information over to him on a card. I wouldn't mind a few King Babies. But seriously. Make sure you address things like, your ten pound weight loss, how going to prison for a suspended license has completely changed your life, how you want to open up 50 private [whoops] public schools called Paris Hilton changed, so why can't I and how you'll never have another ounce of alcohol or substance in your 26 year old babyless life. Smile a lot and cry once, maybe twice. Public schools and tears? Oh man. Throw in a "Jesus Rocks" and "Drugs are Bad" and Google Search: Paris Hilton will be live and pumpin once more.
Call me later whore!
The wonders of sitting behind a computer screen, faceless, exposing my ignorant rants to the world. Oh wait. You know my face.
Make the beatings Brutal.