Esquire profiled Paris Hilton and instead of a long winded essay which they’d eventually regret, kind of like when you wake up next to a fat, ugly chick after a night of drinking, they just listed a bunch of retarded things they learned from Paris. Here are a few.
I was the oldest granddaughter. Everyone was so excited that I was born, they would always take pictures of me. My grandma would call me Marilyn Monroe or Grace Kelly. Ever since I was little, it’s what I knew I wanted to do–be a blond icon. (Facepalm)
I don’t know why everyone wants to be famous. To make a living, I guess. Maybe they think it’s an easy job. (It is)
Once I’ve worn a dress, I can never wear it again. I give them to charities and they auction them off to help people with breast cancer, multiple sclerosis, and AIDS. Some that are really, really special, I keep in storage for my daughters. They’ll be vintage by then. I think my daughters will love them. (What a good Samaritan)
The best thing I’ve ever bought with money is my house. I call it my Paris Palace. It’s beautiful. Every room has beautiful crystal chandeliers and amazing moldings from Italy. When people come over they say, “Hey, this looks just like you.” (Don’t forget the stripper poles in every room)
Having a nightclub in your house really helps for having a party, because then you don’t need to go out. (Good. Stay home)
Will Ferrell movies make me laugh. My sister makes me laugh. Nicole Richie is hilarious. (I bet a dog chasing it’s tail would make you laugh)
Because of my last name and the way I look, some people think I’m a spoiled brat. But I’m not like that at all. I’m one of the most down-to-earth people I know out of anyone in Hollywood. (Um…)
You may not be able to be hot when you’re seventy-five in a conventional sense. Like, young people won’t think you’re hot. But your husband will, and so will people your own age. (No one thinks you’re hot anyway)
In conclusion, Paris is an idiot. She lives in a decadent fantasy world made of hundred dollar throwaway dresses and simple, yet expensive, pleasures. Anything she says can’t be taken seriously. Paris wants to be like Marilyn Monroe? Ha. She should shoot for something realistic. Like, be a lazy-eyed tart who’s only talent is standing still and being photographed. Yea. She should be that.
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