I am feeling so left out of the recent Bimbo Summit! Two nights ago, I had a dream that I was back in highschool with Lindsay Lohan. I bought her beer with my fake ID, and that’s how all the trouble started. I woke up knowing the subsequent downward spiral of la Lohan was all my fault. “Be adequite” indeed!
Then last night I woke up in a panic after a dream that I was hanging out with Britney Spears in Vegas. In the dream, she informed me that Kevin wanted to get back together, and she considered it because it was nearly their “Humpin’ anniversary.” This stuff writes itself, and the end must be nigh. If I dream about Paris Hilton tonight, start burying gold in the yard and set up a home water distillery.
Up Next: More on My Problems! For starters, I miss flying first class with live minks nestled around my feet for warmth. Did I mention those minks sipped Perrier?
There is something very Dickensian about this particular bimbo eruption. If Paris Hilton shows you your own desolate grave, you know it’s time to change your ways. (Although I get the idea there may be a mink or two keeping vigil over it, at least to make sure you don’t come back.)
I imagine Paris will reveal a Jimmy Choo box filled with crack if she shows up at all.
Did I mention those minks are conditioned with truffle oil?
Is the Humpin’ Anniversary the one that means you get gifts of stationery? Or is it more of an informal kind of event?
It’s the rubber anniversary. Oh, you just set that right up for me!