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August 21, 2007

The Fugple Life

[Photo: Splash News]

Dear Diary,

IT TOTALLY WORKED. That whole prison thing? GENIUS. Everyone should do it. Although I don't want them to, because then EVERYONE will be as adored as I am... but if they DO, they'll all be copying me, so maybe that's okay, too. But seriously, prison was a total epitome for me, Diary. For one thing, it expanded my vocabulation -- Bitchmaster Nunchucks taught me "epitome" while we were in the yard one day writing poems about homeless people. It means... shoot, I forget. Something to do with having a big realization. Or, wait, was it something about pretty mouths? I get confused sometimes with all the stuff I learned.

ANYWAY, I got out and everyone loves me now. Larry King said my diaries that I wrote in my cell were "unbelievable," or something, and a million people -- maybe even FIVE million -- lined up to come see my clothing line at Kitson, and I've stopped hanging out with toxic people (although sometimes THEY still hang around ME; I can't control THEIR free will, Diary. I learned THAT while I was meditating over a bologna sandwich). And now I go around tickling babies under their chins and giving them wisdom, like, "Kid, I hope you're wearing diapers under those shorts in case you're getting out of a cab and they ride up," or "Never let anyone photograph you eating ever again," and "Don't act like a total whore to your best friend who is just innocent and loving and then try to make up for the cameras and then get pregnant during your former BFF's time of need IN PRISON and act all sainted and shit when everyone knows you're just a HUNGRY COW HAG," and "Always wear as much shiny gold stuff as you can." That last one is my philosophy now. In fact, I wish I hadn't worn this bathing suit and sarong -- I call them "shirt and skirt" but Second Maid snorted at me and told me to use their real names, so whatever, FINE -- or else I could wear them to the VMAs. I totally would. I am hot.

Also, that Adrian Grenadine dude from Entourage has started letting himself be seen with me in public, for some documentary he's shooting about... I think it's about awesome hotties that people love. That might even be the title. But you know what's unfair? I'll show you what's unfair.

[Photo: Splash News]

That shadow over my face is unfair. Adrian couldn't even look at me. He was staring off into what professional actors call "middle distance" -- I've been taking classes, see -- and giggling. I didn't think it was THAT weird of a shadow but he kept reassuring me with stuff like, "Wow, Paris, you've really got the whole package," and "You really took your lumps with that DUI thing," and, "That must have been a real testes of your character," and, "I mean, you've got BALLS," and then he asked me if I'd ever seen some movie called Polterwang and then he had to walk away for a few minutes to compose himself because his eyes were tearing up (I think he's got allergies). But I'm so MAD that my big moment with Adrian Gren-thingy got spoiled by his allergies. And the shadows. God, they make my nose look like Mr. Burns'.

Which actually is okay, because everyone loves The Simpsons. Woohoo! PARIS WINS AGAIN, BITCHES. Now, I need to go find another baby to cuddle. I have a few months before that raging skankface pops hers out and I want everyone to be sick of blondes with babies by then. Also, I'm a maternal nurturer and it's time for the world to know that being held to Paris's bosom is more than just a Friday night thing. Or at least that's what my publicist told me.



Posted by Heather at 12:28 PM in Paris & Nicky Hilton | Permalink


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