As you know, my storage locker was recently emptied of its contents, most of which are now accessible to anyone with a web browser and an unhealthy fascination about me which, as you know, means everyone.
Now I know what you’re thinking: “How could Paris not pay the two-hundred bucks it took to keep her stuff in storage?” Well, I pay people to pay people to pay people to take care of that sort of thing. I can barely count to twenty-hundred, let alone two-hundred.
After all, my family owns about a billion storage lockers througout the world – you call them hotel rooms. You’d think that just one of these could be used to house my precious items, like my Valtrex prescription, my NASA commemorative gold coin collection (minted from the teeth of thousands of hapless custodial personnel) and, most importantly, my Obi Wan Kenobi action figures which, by the way, I expected to get a lot more action from.
Okay, so there were also some dirty pictures in there, but aren’t you numb to that yet? It’s like watching two dogs hump in the park.
If the park was a suite at the Ritz.
And if one of the dogs had herpes.
It’s enough to make a girl cover a guy’s bare chest in flour during some late-night bread-baking, just like thousands of illegal immigrants do when I ring a bell – every day in this great country of mine and my family’s.
Gotta run. Time to sue myself for suing myself for suing the folks who conspired with me to perpetuate my notoriety for another two years.