House of Wax

By Mark Ramsey | 2005/05/08

What’s up everybody, this is Paris Hilton.

About burning wax: That’s hot.

Sorry I don’t know how to type. But I have more man-servants than Nicole Richie has ass-cheeks, and they do my typing for me.

Whoops. I just noticed my reflection and have been transfixed for the past 17 minutes. The long hand is the minute one, right?

Before we talk about me, let’s talk about me. My belly is so tight you could bounce a quarter on it – I mean a quarter of a billion!

“See Paris Hilton die.” That’s the main attraction in House of Wax, if I do say so myself. Especially since “die” is pretty much the only thing you haven’t seen me do. Check another one off the list! Yes, I suck the spotlight like a houseofwax_parisexpressions.jpg

Dyson vacuum sucks pet hair.

Excuse me while I get out of these clothes. No particular reason, it’s just what I do.

Until they called me to save House of Wax, my wax was either Brazilian or the kind that blocks the breeze from blowing into one ear and clear through the other. On the bright side, when my boyfriend kisses me he can hear the ocean.

Oops! I just had a distracting thought. When it’s your first thought all day, you’d be distracted too.

My boyfriend’s name is Paris, too, which means it’s only his last name I can’t remember. He’s a Greek shipping heir and I’m an airhead, so we have lots in common, and that’s hot.

The original House of Wax starred tons of people over the age of 25. Those were the days when folks went to the movies to see old people instead of getting their fix from 60 Minutes.

Unlike the old version, mine is not filmed in 3-D. “Why have a movie presented in one dimension more than its cast?,” producer Joel Silver told me. And while I agree completely I have no idea what he means. But if he’s trying to implicationalize something, that’s hot.

To turn people into wax they spray it on like my tan. In fact, it would be an improvement if all of my co-stars had a burning wick sprouting from their heads. As long as they’re no-drip. Dripping is not hot.

This is the latest from Dark Castle Entertainment, an outfit whose mission is to resurrect the B-movie masterworks of legendary Hollywood Showman William Castle and his like and houseofwax_waxmaker.jpg

make them hot. I have no clue who William Castle is but if he opens a boutique on Rodeo Drive I’ll be wearing my good tan.

I really like my performance in this movie because someone has to. Years from now when I’m old, rebuilt by science, and of no interest to anybody I’ll look back on House of Wax, turn to my 300 cats in my isolated palatial villa, and revel in their loving adoration. Reclusive old age and loneliness are hot!

As you’ll see, I’m doing my best to make acting “optional” in all Hollywood films. At this rate, Oscar will be awarded in a sweepstakes from Publisher’s Clearinghouse, and you’ll have to subscribe to Field & Stream to win it.

In the movie I’m dismissed from the call sheet when I get a pole in my head which, as anyone in tune with my video career knows, is hardly the first time.

When I die the audience erupts in laughter. Of course, these are the same fools who buy my books and jewelry, Google my name, view my home video, party at my clubs, drool at my billions, watch season after tiresome season of my TV show, buy my DVD’s, and now patronize House of Wax. Guess who’s laughing now, you suckers!

Somebody told me House of Wax is so incredibly dull it should be called House of Mundane Spectacles. Somebody else called it House of Blunt-Force Boredom. Big words are so funny!

Hey, how come every time I look in a mirror somebody really hot looks back and I think I know her?

Like it or not, you proletarian commoners, House of Wax will always be House of Paris-ites.

Love and Kisses,


Photos Copyright ©2005 Warner Bros. Pictures

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