Tuesday, February 17, 2004 |
Happy Birthday, Paris Hilton!
Dear Paris,
In just a few months, all of America watched you engage in coitus & cellular telecommunication; you’ve made an ass of yourself and got away scot-free on a reality TV show; you’ve proposed a retarded book for somebody to ghostwrite; you’ve slept with me thrice; you farted around the Super Bowl, Sundance, and Nick Carter; you stole a car by accident; you drove your sister to U.P.S. brown; and now you’re whoring for Miss America. (Also, I think you showed up on that James Caan show.) Sweet Jesus, woman, can’t you hold down a job? You’re all over the place like an Asian virus. Slow down, you ubiquitous Muppet! Can’t you quit badgering us with your soul-sucking vapidity for just a weekend, you threepenny floozy?
Happy Birthday!
Love,
Josh Abraham
P.S. Dug the cornrows.
