411: Surfing fuckedcompany.com
Listening to: Opium Jukebox’s, “Music to download pornography by”
Appreciate my first triptych self-portrait. I said appreciate it, dammit.
We all owe a great debt to Paris Hilton.
If you haven’t seen it yet, you need to watch the Paris Hilton video. I wouldn’t suggest you watch it at work, but that’s not because it’s pornographic. It’s more likely to cause you to point and laugh. When all your coworkers gather round your cube to see what’s so funny, you’re going to get called out on your inappropriate workplace web-surfing.
When you watch the video, regardless of whether or not you think Paris Hilton actually knows she’s being taped, you realize that despite all her beauty, she’s really bad in bed. This skinny, ubiquitous blonde woman that has had far than her 15 minutes is a lousy lay. In the middle of sex she answers her cellphone. Her oral sex technique is non-existent. She seems entirely unable to please her partner with anything resembling enthusiasm, talent, or any desire to improve.
We all sort of know that the sexual personae of celebrities is bigger than reality, but not often do we get smacked in the face by the sexual dissonance. The Paris Hilton video makes it impossible for us not to realize that the aura is both unearned, and in fact, works the other way. And when you look at yourself, you realize, hey, I’m not all that un-sexy by comparison.