Poor Paris Hilton: the girl just wants to get drunk, get naked, and get had, in a guzzle of wanton wastrelsy. And we here in the world can’t let her alone as she plumbs the depths of her depths. Frankly, if she’d do any of that around me, I’m sure I’d find it endearing.
Paris Hilton: Hello. Have a drink. Would you like to see my boobs?
Linus: Um, I …
Paris Hilton: Whoops!
Linus: You, uh, they …
Paris Hilton: I’m also not wearing panties.
Paris Hilton: What’s wrong with you? I’ve been talking to you for like 10 seconds and we haven’t had sex yet. Here, hold this camcorder.
I’d vote for her.
In latest news, hackers have done the deed on Paris Hilton’s cell phone Sidekick on T-Mobile, unearthing celebrity phone numbers and a debauchery of text notes of the sort that might litter the lifestyle you might imagine. The t-shirt is already for sale, if your wardrobe accessorizes at the speed of media.
My cell company is also T-Mobile, which seems to be a romp for hackers (but it won’t be my cell company for long if they don’t cough up a good deal on a new phone, my V-66 is dying hard). Imagine the dimensions of the trouble if my information were spread all over those Internets. Just a few of the salacious details:
From My Phone Book (some names changed to protect the busy)
- Pierre, Pierre’s cell
- Seth, Seth’s cell, Seth’s replacement cell that he used for a while when the first cell didn’t work and I keep forgetting to delete it
- The beauteous stage manager, home and cell
- Chuck’s home number which he never answers, Chuck’s work number where he never is, Chuck’s cell which now rings some annoyed guy named Jeremy since it took Chuck so long to win his fight contesting the Verizon bill that they reassigned his number. Also Chuck’s replacement cell which may or may not be his permanent cell, I keep forgetting to ask
- Renée’s number from before she moved
- Dani from when she lived on the Upper West Side
- Some girl named Nicole that I don’t know who she is
- Some girl named Claire that I don’t know who she is
- Some girl named Jenny that I don’t know who she is
- Mom’s cell that she never answers and doesn’t mostly turn on
- Babooshka on Staten Island where I used to get my hair cut but they’ve been closed for over a year
- Stubb’s Bar-B-Q in Austin
- Blackstone Winery in Sonoma County
Sample Text Messages
- Im here where are you
- R U here?
- I am at the Gates
- I dont see you. R U sure you R here?
- Where exactly?
- What lamp?
- OK I am at the lamp, I still dont see U
- Ha ha very funny OK when are you getting here
Whew, if that stuff got out I just don’t know what I’d do.
Seriously, though, I say lay off the girl. She’s just doing what most of us would do if we could — we’re all Paris Hilton, we just never had the chance. What if the party really never stopped, never at all? Most of us never got there in the first place. How strange to be lost inside with no clear way out. How strange to know that sooner or later you’re bound to get stuck somewhere with Fred Durst, and he’s going to want to show you something.
Previously Parised on Pepper: