Personally, I couldn't watch more than five minutes of The Simple Life, but I wish I could say it's because of some self-righteous gag reflex--a complete contempt for such sensationalized, mind-rotting entertainment. The sad fact is, I want Paris Hilton real bad, and I hate myself for it.

Clearly, she's not ugly (as long as you don't look at her too closely, then it looks like something weird's going on)--all that high living, pampering, blonde hair and perpetually tanned skin...
I'm so grossing myself out.
But that's got nothing to do with it, really. It's like she's everything I hate about people. That's what I like about her--all that vanity, shallowness and disregard all rolled into one disgustingly tasty piece of woman-flesh. I just want her foul, grimy, starfucking stench all over me. She's kinda like that bar of baker's chocolate you find in the fridge, unprotected and totally seductive, and then you take a big bite. Does this make me a bad person?
Gah! You named The-Crush-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named! What's wrong with you? Some secrets are meant to be kept.
ReplyDeleteSeriously, you tell mine and you die.