Well, my screenplay is getting nowhere as my muse is sitting in the corner right now eating peanut butter and bacon sandwiches and giggling at me like a drunken cherub.
So, I have decided to post again. Hooray for you!!!! Plus, apparently, some of you may be sitting at work, bored.
My grandmother, the immortal Betty Cox, used to say to me, “if you’re bored, you’re boring.” Now she has passed on and, since it’s a fact that I am way more bored than any of you, I am left with the assumption that I must be the most boring person on the planet.
Let’s talk about Paris Hilton. (Realize that I have just advertised. People will now find this blog at Google while looking for homemade porn videos or lodging in France)
We have only ourselves to blame for her. Sure, we didn’t physically conceive her. I’m sure that even her parents couldn’t have conceived of her while conceiving her. (Although they claim that she’s an angel, and actually try to convince us that they believe that.) We know better.
But what should we expect, right? After all, she’s named after a hotel. She’s supposed to act like a slut.
Tanya tries to explain to me that the hotel’s named after her (her family anyway), but the Hilton hotel in Paris existed long before Paris Hilton, right? Her parents knew this, right? They own the hotel, right? Did they think it would be cute? So, why name her Paris Hilton? Why not call her Parsippany Hilton or Newark Airport Hilton?
But, like I said, Paris’ parents aren’t the reason that I have to look at her stupid rat face every once in a while. Sure, their genes got together over Long Island Iced Teas one night and said “he, he, he, that reminds me of a joke...”
But, we are the problem. I include myself in this. I watched The Simple Life on that stupid network that shall remain nameless. Did you? You see, she actually thinks that we want to look at her.
Let’s stop being a part of the problem and start being a part of the solution, whatever that is, unless you like her of course. In that case, stop reading this and get yourself to a physician.
Don’t give me that, “I don’t like her, but you have to respect her for...” crap. She has all the money she could ever want, the last thing she needs is my respect.
Whoever said that you could never be too rich or too thin has obviously never been exposed to Paris Hilton. Or visa versa.
I’m so angry in this post. I’m really not an angry man; but her money makes me jealous. Her body makes me wonder why I couldn’t have a career as a runway model. And, her face makes me want to eat my own young (okay, you’re right, I have no young, I would never eat anybody’s kids, and besides, I think even the heftiest of cannibals would look at a child as a meal for at least two)!
Roses, rainbows, ducklings, and fluffy, fluffy kitties.
There, that’s better.
I just hate Paris Hilton is all. She gives the French a bad name.
Fun Fact: I like to write very short paragraphs that aren’t really paragraphs. And, Bebop Jazz rocks.