Because no sane person ever will, Paris Hilton is defending her own honor in the pages of Glamour where she claims to have slept with only a few guys and isn’t a walking stick of promiscuity:
“I’ve only ever done it with a couple of people. People make up stories, but mostly I just kiss. I think it’s important to play hard to get. Nobody wants the fake Prada bag – they want the brand new bag that no one can get and is the most expensive. If you give it up to a guy he won’t respect you. He’ll want you much more if he can’t have you.”
Okay, here’s the part of the post where I equate Paris Hilton’s vagina with one of those hazardous waste trashcans you see at the doctor’s office, but instead, I’m going to open myself up a bit and share a little experience I just had. This is a 100% true story. Alright, deep breath, here goes: Last night, I had a dream about Paris Hilton. In this dream I’m carrying Paris through at least five feet snow up to this cliff. As we’re talking it turns out we were married at one point then quickly divorced, but now we’re off to a condo on the beach to “rekindle our love,” if you will. So, I’m carrying Paris and wading through all this snow to get to the top of the cliff which overlooks the ocean. There we’ll jump off then swim to our destination. Except the snow starts getting really high and I lose my footing, trip and start getting buried in the snow. That’s when I wake up. I don’t know if any of you guys are dream experts, but I have a tumor, don’t I? Awesome.
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