HAVE A GREAT NAME. If you are going to be an heiress, you can't have a normalname, unless you're British. All British people have plain names, and that works pretty well over there. But in America, you've got to have a name that stands out. I love my name. Paris is my favorite city. And Paris without the P is "heiress," isn't it? In sixth grade, people would make fun of me and call me "France" or "London." Well, I'm going to name my own daughter Paris! An heiress needs to have a glamorous — or a really cute — name. My sister Nicky's name is cute. An heiress's dog also needs to have a cute name. My teacup Chihuahua is named Tinkerbell, so she acts like a Tinkerbell. If you have a cute name, you will act cute. If you have a glam name, you will act glam. It's that simple. Future moms should make a note of that.
We renamed the book, Confessions of an Airhead, and tried to get over the pink whiplash caused by the cover.
Then Nicole Richie, former best friend turned nemesis of Paris, wrote her own book, The Truth About Diamonds (ohmigod, is that like a total slam against Paris? ‘Cause the bitch so had it comin’) whose literary brilliance could not be denied:
The nightclubs of L.A. are like soap operas, except they're not Days of Our Lives; they're more like Passions -- crazy stuff happens, and no one bats a fake eyelash. There's always some bizarre drama that plays out every night, and everyone in the cast -- I mean, everyone -- is great looking, stoned, and/or drunk. It's like a traveling freak show that stars the youngest and hottest in
Hollywood. It's about fun, and sex, and pseudo-danger.
Chloe Parker was practically born in a club. It's like she spontaneously generated one night in 1981 during a fourteen-minute remix. As a child, she could dance before she could walk and sing before she could talk. Dressed in a tie-dyed onesie and a tutu, her head a tangle of golden curls, Chloe was destined to haunt the clubs of her adoptive city as soon as humanly possible.
As my coworker, who fully admits her obsession with Nicole Richie, said, “I thought she would have a ghost writer or something, but why would you pay someone to write that badly?”
To one-up the ambitious blond that is your former BFF by being able to claim that you write fiction—albeit fiction so closely based on your real life that the only thing that makes it fictional is the whitewashing—perhaps?
Perhaps, but oh bobble-headed one have you not learned that even though she’s been killed on film to the celebrating cries of millions of Americans, she’s a hard one to keep down.
And lo and behold a few days later Paris Hilton’s “highly anticipated” follow-up arrived: Your Heiress Diary: Confess it all to me. Yes, now you can tell Paris Hilton all your secrets and they’ll be perfectly safe (unless her wireless phone gets hacked, then all bets are off so don’t go making any snarky comments about Jessica Simpson). You can let Paris guide you through your life’s foibles while learning what’s in an heiress’s diary!
Oh the excitement! It’s killing me.
I bet it’s killing Nicole Richie, too. Especially since someone seems to have placed both books right next to each other on a display shelf.
Oops.
I would wonder about the ethics about this, but I’m too busy laughing.
6 comments:
Paris really truly is that dumb after all. Gah.
Tinkerbell.
I kind of like that Nichole Richie book but I refuse to feel guilty. I already confessed and was absolved at Miss Snarks.
No need to feel guilty. Nicole has an actual book, sure it maybe a work of "fiction" (and really how many of us are falling for that? I just want to know what she's fighting with Paris about, who cares what she's calling herself), but it's better than the glorified photo album that is Paris's masterpiece.
I'm just weirded out by Nicole in all her emaciated glory on the cover. I want to feed her a cookie. Several cookies. And some milk. And no she cannot leave the table, not until she is finished!
A co-worker has a theory that Paris is secretly brilliant. He needs a copy of this book;).
Do the people who buy these books look guilty while doing so? Or are they like so happy that they like have a book to, ya know, put on the shelf in their rooms? Hmm, a tad snarkier than I planned. What can I say? The snark will not be leashed.
Drea--they tend to look guilty, very guilty, and then try to justify themselves, which is funny because you don't need to justify yourself to the girl who reads Star magazine on her lunch break. Entertainment is entertainment.
I too have a coworker who believes that Paris must be secretly brilliant, but she always says it in this doubting tone, as if she has to say it to be good to all humankind but doesn't believe it at all. I pointed out once that Paris doesn't have to be brilliant, she can hire people to do that for her. ;)
And all snark is welcome here, please do not worry about a leash.
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