Paris Is Still In Jail (Updates Hourly)
I spoke to my sister last night and she asked why I haven’t written about the Paris Hilton fiasco. The fact is, I’ve tried. I started to write about her going into jail, then I went to get a glass of water and when I came back she was out. So then I started a post about her being out of jail, then I sneezed and she was back in. It’s all happening too fast for a Parisite like myself to keep up. So I finally got smart and signed up for Paris’ PMS (Private Messaging System). Now, I get instant updates text messaged to my cell phone about everything Paris. For those of you who have been busy this week, here are some of the highlights of what’s transpired:
Sunday @ 9 pm: Paris attends the MTV Movie Awards where Dane Cook makes a comment that critics call the most awkward moment of the night. He says, “Paris Hilton was so offended by Sarah Silverman’s opening remarks that she checked herself into jail early.” Then the camera cuts to an unamused Paris still in her seat.
Sunday @ 11:15 pm: Cook’s comment goes from awkward to prescient when Paris actually does check in early… at the Men’s Central Jail. Across the nation, money exchanges hands to the satisfied delight of the “dude looks like a lady” betting contingent. National law enforcement officers discuss other ways to channel Sarah “The Paris Piper” Silverman’s raunchy humor to encourage more criminals to turn themselves in.
Monday @ 1 am: Paris hands all her belongings to the “valet” and asks the desk clerk for a West-facing room, eggs benedict for breakfast and a 2 pm spa appointment.
- Booking officer: This ain’t the Hilton. It’s jail. (Chuckles) You don’t know how many times I’ve said that.
Paris: (Laughing) We can all drop the facade now (but she pronounces it “fuckaid”). The arrest, the trial and everything else was staged for the next season of my show “The Simple Life.”
Booking officer: If a little fantasy makes this easier for you, have at it. But the closest you’ll get to a spa treatment is when we strip search you.
Paris: (Wailing) WHAT?! This is really jail? Mommy!! My publicist told me none of this is real. Where’s my mommy??
Booking officer: Oh, you’ll get to meet your new mommy tomorrow on the exercise yard.
Monday @ 1:30 am: Paris is told that wakeup will be at 6 am so she decides to go to bed immediately. But the jail doesn’t provide turn down service and Paris doesn’t know how to get under the covers. She resorts to the only other method she knows: simulating sexual moves until the covers are properly disheveled. With one last cry of “Mommy!!” she closes her eyes and tries to sleep.
Monday @ 2 am: Restless, Paris calls for a guard. She says, “How am I supposed to sleep? I haven’t slept alone since I was 13. Can’t you do something to make this a little more like home, like bring in a video camera?”
Monday @ 5 am: An hour before wakeup, Paris screams. Nearby inmates immediately plot ways to kill her.
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Paris: Omigod. These fucking sheets!
Guard: You like them? They’re from the Martha Stewart Incarceration Collection.
Paris: They’re 200 thread count!!! They’ve left red bumps on my delicate skin. Mommy!!
Guard: Those aren’t from the sheets. You’re having another herpes outbreak.
Monday @ 10 am: Paris speaks to her publicist by phone and fires him.
Monday @ 10:30 am: Paris’ publicist issues a statement that he and his client have parted ways but remain great friends.
Monday @ 11 am: Paris speaks to her former publicist by phone and rehires him. (Rinse and repeat five more times).
Monday @ 2 pm: Paris’ publicist makes a call to Sheriff Lee Baca. He tells Baca that if he can get his client released early, he can arrange for a ménage with the trifecta of drunk driving debutantes: Paris, Nicole Richie and Lindsay Lohan. He says he can even throw in Britney Spears, who hasn’t been arrested (yet) for a DUI but who’s not getting any other action right now thanks to her Chris Daughtry ‘do and she’ll take anything she can get. Baca works as quickly as possible to get Paris released.
(Three days later…)
Thursday @ 3 pm: Paris is released from jail and ordered to house “arrest” in her Hollywood mansion.
Thursday @ 9 pm: At Casa de Paris, she holds her “If Paris Can’t Go To Hyde, Hyde Will Come To Paris” party. It’s the event of the season. Sheriff Baca leaves the party with a big smile on his face- and with Hillary Duff on his arm.
Friday @ 2 pm: Los Angeles Superior Court Judge Michael T. Sauer is furious about the deal Baca made with Paris. If anybody should have had the opportunity to catch 20 STD’s in one night, it should have been him.
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Sauer: The little slut is remanded to county jail to serve the remainder of her 45-day sentence. This order is forthwith.
Paris: It’s not right! Mommmmmmmmmmy!!
Sketch (Artist) Comedy At Its Best
Off the TelePrompTer:
“Police are asking for the public’s help in finding this man accused of raping three interns here at channel 7 news. He is an African-American male who’s approximately 12 inches from the chest up. Witnesses describe him as well-dressed with excellent diction and say he might be wearing some sort of hearing device. Police have absolutely no clue as to his identity or his whereabouts. After all, they’re the LAPD.”
A Perfect Union
My sister sent me the following pictures with the caption “Tennessee Wedding.” While I don’t have definitive proof that the wedding took place in Tennessee, I think the evidence speaks for itself. (Click photos to enlarge)
The groomsmen attended on their lunch break from Wal-Mart.
Bridesmaid #1- “I’m going to be the next American Idol.”
Bridesmaid #2- “This is mortifying. How can I be related to these people?”
Bride- “I knew Uncle Skeeter’s garage door would make the perfect backdrop.”
Bridesmaid #3- “I can’t believe I’m doing this after that bitch stole my Billy Bob.”
Bridesmaid #4- “American Idol will be my ticket outta this hellhole”
Bridesmaid #5- “I’m gonna have a daytime wedding in red too. It’s so classy.”
Flower girl- “Somebody help me. I was abducted and brought here.”
Billy Bob cut his meth intake to just three hits for his special day.
“Brad and Angelina’s kid won’t have anything on our offspring.”
(Including that extra chromosome).
Bessie: “Take a look at what you other boys won’t be getting… ever again. At least, not without Billy Bob’s permission. Or $5. Or just a 40 ouncer of Pabst Blue Ribbon.”
Billy Bob: “Uh, hyuk hyuk hyuk hyuk. That’s muh gurl!”
You just know he’ll be giving it to her doggie style before the night is through. And by “night” I mean “wedding reception.” (No need to thank me for putting that image in your head).
On the advice of Bessie’s Grandma (who’s also Billy Bob’s Aunt), the bride cops the traditional wedding feel.
The New Monopoly
Hasboro is updating the 70-year-old Monopoly game and they’re asking for the public’s suggestions. I have a few ideas to make the game more modern and realistic:
The corners “Go,” “Jail” and “Free Parking” will remain the same, but they’ll each now share space with a Starbucks. Every time you land on one you’ll have to pay $10 for a double decaf mocha latte.
The cheap properties- purple and blue- are on indian land. Owners are allowed to build casinos for the price of four hotels.
The pieces:
I have no idea what an iron and a dog have to do with real estate, so I suggest for pieces a Blackberry, a briefcase, a Mercedes, a credit card and a bottle of Xanax.
Chance and Treasure Chest cards:
Think they’ll use any of my ideas?
Online Dating Fiasco
I have to confess, I did something really stupid. I figured I’d give online dating a shot and decided to sign up at Match.com. I paid my non-refundable membership fees and waited for the emails to pour in. Apparently I didn’t read the fine print and it turns out I signed up at misMatch.com. I don’t want my money to go to waste so I’ve decided to make the best of it. Below are the profiles they sent me. Let me know if you think any would suit me.
Bachelor #1
Bachelor #2
Bachelor #3
Happy (Last) Birthday
This morning, California executed a guy minutes after his 76th birthday ended. I can’t help but wonder how his final visitors handled the situation. Did they wish him a happy birthday? Did they bring him gifts? (If so, did they keep the receipts)? Hallmark claims to have “cards for every occasion” but I’ve never seen a “condemned loved one” section in the greeting card aisle. I can only guess this is what some of his cards said:
Front: On this, your birthday, remember…
Inside: Live each day like it’s your last!
Front: Who would have thought you’d reach the ripe old age of 76?
Inside: Certainly not 12 former jurors
Front: At your age, don’t think of it as having one foot in the grave
Inside: Think of it as having one vein out of the grave
Front: Most guys your age can only blow out five candles
Inside: Tomorrow, you won’t even be able to do that
Front: We highly recommend you live it up on this birthday
Inside: Love, The Supreme Court Justices
Front: Congrats on receiving the birthday present you always wanted
Inside: You’re getting out of prison!
Front: A lot of people get hung up on their birthdays
Inside: Few have it happen the following day
Front: Do you remember the birthday celebrations of your youth…
Inside: …when you used to shoot up just for fun?
Front: Everybody has a tough time waking up the morning after their birthday
Inside: Some more than others
Front: You may be over the hill today…
Inside: …but you’ll be six feet under it tomorrow
Sexual Claims
I was hanging out with a group of mostly friends and some girl I don’t know mentioned that she dated (or maybe just fucked) Robbie Knievel, Evel Knievel’s son. When she left, one of the guys scoffed, “Well, who’s knows if that’s really true.”
I said, “OF COURSE it’s true. Who’s going to lie about screwing Robbie Knievel?”
I guess he thought she was attempting to impress the group, as if Robbie Knievel was actually somebody. He’s merely the son of a guy who achieved tv fame at a time when there were only 12 channels (the “u” channel didn’t count) and the other viewing options were a couple of PBS telethons and seven stations of static. I have no idea what the dude even looks like. For all I know, maybe I’VE fucked Robbie Knievel.
There’s nothing to be gained by falsely claiming him as a lover. Dropping the name Robbie Knievel won’t get your script greenlit or move you up on the reservation list at Dolce. I think declaring you’ve had sex with the guy from the Capitol One commercials actually holds more cache.
Believability is all about the fascination vs. shame factor involved. If someone said she screwed People’s “Sexiest Man Alive,” Matthew McConaughey, I’d roll my eyes in disbelief. But if she told me she screwed Gary Goleman, I’d believe her. If someone said she screwed George Clooney, I’d think she’s full of crap. But if she confessed to doing William “She Bangs” Hung, I’d definitely believe her. If someone said she screwed Colin Farrell, well, I might believe her because that guy seems to get around.
The easiest way to determine the validity of a sexual claim is this: if it’s safe to assume a video tape of said encounter could be released to the public and nobody would have any interest in viewing it (beyond the “I had a threeway with Mini-Me and Ron Jeremy” horror/curiosity variety) then the claim is probably true.
Sexiest Man Alive
People magazine has declared Matthew McConaughey its “Sexiest Man Alive.” I can’t help but wonder what happened to last year’s winner. Did he let the title go to his head, gain 40 pounds and discontinue his hair plug treatments? Did he show up at a premiere in a turquoise Members Only jacket? Was he bumped off by one of this year’s hungry contenders? That begs the question: is it really necessary to include the word “alive” in the title? I can’t imagine there would be a lot of reader backlash when their favorite 14th century poet doesn’t win.
I just don’t understand how someone can be anointed with a superlative like “Sexiest Man Alive” and never win it two years in a row. For that matter, it’s very suspicious that the person who beats out a couple billion other men is always an American in the entertainment industry.
It’s time for People to infuse their titles with a little accuracy, so I offer some suggestions for next year’s declaration:
- Sexiest Man We Know Of From Our Limited Awareness Of The World
- Sexiest Man Alive (But We Haven’t Seen All The Pygmies)
- The Guy Who Had The Hottest Picture Taken Just Before This Issue Went To Publication
- One Hot Dude With A Powerful Publicist
- The Best Looking Guy To Return Our Phone Calls Last Week
- Sexiest Man In Hollywood Who Thinks This Will Help His Stalled Movie Career
- Sexiest Guy Sleeping With One Of Tom Cruise’s Old Flames
- Sexiest Male Celebrity Who Hasn’t Been Arrested On Drug Charges (In The Last Year)
All I’m saying is People magazine needs to show George Clooney a little respect- at least until he’s no longer alive.
99 Cent Store Gift Card
While shopping at the $.99 Store (because I make the big bucks), I noticed they have a gift card available for purchase. Now first of all, I think receiving any gift card is a little awkward. It’s as if the giver is saying, “I have absolutely no idea what you like, but I’m afraid you’d spend cash on booze and gambling.”
But a gift card to the $.99 Store just says, “I have absolutely no idea what you like, but I know you don’t mind crap.”
So of course I had to buy one for my friend- and I only wanted to put $.98 on it. The problem is, you have to buy it for $9.99 so I tried explaining to the Mexican cashier that I wanted to use up all but $.98 on the card. It took me a good five minutes just to get her to understand how to charge $9.01 to the card, but she never got the joke.
I guess some things just don’t translate well.
