Okay, so I know Paris has only worked for me about a week or so. But the girl just had to go. For one thing, she was real flakey this week. As soon as we landed in Jerusalem, she bought a bunch of potato chips and started watching Jackie Chan movies. Then she didn't want to go out and party with Yarden and Nivit and Natalie and me. She said she wasn't going out on the town with a Pendy, whatever that is. And then, as if that wasn't bad enough, she wouldn't roll me joints. When I made a stink about it, she rolled me a nice big one and we made up and were better. For a while. Until we were in the MiG, flying home, and she tried to take Minor Threat out of the MiG's CD player. She said she wanted to listen to Justin Timberlake.
That was the last straw. I had to show her to the door. You know. Like, eject her.
My PR people are spinning the story as I write this. I'm not quite sure what they're saying, but you can probably guess, right? "Paris Hilton, the blonde bimbo millionaire socialite skank, was wigging out after forgetting to take her medication for unknown mental illnesses. In a terrible and horrific accident, she pulled the eject lever and parachuted safely into Yugoslavia. Larry Ellison said he deeply regretted the incident." It would all be true, except the part about me regretting the incident. Thank god I won't always have Paris, eh? Anyway, I'm back safe and sound in San Jose now.
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