Paris Hilton is a pussy

That’s right.  Paris Hilton is an anorexic, whiney-baby, couldn’t make it in the real world if she tried, pussy.

Hilton was housed in the “special needs” unit of the 13-year-old jail, separate from most of its 2,200 inmates. The unit contains 12 two-person cells reserved for police officers, public officials, celebrities and other high-profile inmates. She didn’t have a cellmate.

Then, just a mere 5 days later:

 Paris Hilton was released from a Los Angeles County jail early Thursday because of an unspecified medical problem and will fulfill the reminder of her sentence in home confinement, a sheriff’s spokesman said.

I’ll give you a medical problem:  Wussietis.

I had a little stint in jail back in the 70’s.  Yes, you heard it first here folks.  Observant went to the slammer for a brief period back in her heyday.  Y’all are probably scratching your heads right about now and thinking, “Gee, I thought she was a really nice girl.  Wonder what went wrong…”  and you’re just dying to know what the charges were.  Maybe for peacefully protesting?  Littering perhaps? 

Nope. None of the above. 

OK, it was for…

Ready?

Drug possession.

Oh my.

I won’t bore you with the nit picky details of the whole thing, except to say the charges were eventually dropped, but not before they arrested me and threw me in the slammer for a few hours until my lawyer got me out.

Man, jail is pretty crappy.  It’s really true folks.  It’s dark and dirty and if you need to pee, you have to do it in front of other people. Unless you’re Paris Hilton. If you’re Paris Hilton, you get a nice, clean, well lit cell, by yourself.  Bitch.

After spending an uncomfortable ride with a real asshole cop who made sure I knew that he sincerely hoped they’d “throw the book” at me (he really said that, I shit you not), I was taken to the Austin city jail, fingerprinted, mug-shot (I think I looked pretty good considering), booked and thrown into a smelly jail cell with another chick.  I know it sounds like I’m being flip about it now, but back then I was pretty upset and on the verge of a major, feeling sorry for myself sobfest, but rather than cry in front of this other chick, I sucked it up and busied myself with checking out the facility.  Concrete bed – check.  Foam padding that looked like about a million other people had used it – check.  Scratchy as hell army blanket – check.  Toilet out in the open – check.  Toilet paper – no check.  OK, that eliminated any question of eliminating any time soon.  I was prepared to pee in front of the other chick, but not without toilet paper.  No way.

The other chick was passed out on the top concrete bunk, so I didn’t have to engage in any cellie chit chat for awhile which was fine with me, so I spent a couple of hours sniffing back tears of regret and giving myself a fine pep talk:  “They can take away your freedom, but they can’t take away your pride.  Pull it together girl!  Mr. Lawyer where are you?  Get me out of here!”

After awhile,  the cellmate woke up, rubbed her eyes and swung her nasty feet over the edge of the bunk.   Not knowing how to address her, I reverted to TV Speak:  “Soooooo.  Whadda ya in for?” 

“Drunk and disorderly.”

“Oh.”

That was apparently the end of that conversation, so we both stretched back out on our concrete beds for further reflection on our own sorry-ass lives.  Shortly thereafter, this fat female warden wearing a uniform that looked about 2 sizes too small came in to let me out, but first she brought in her can of Lysol and sprayed it around.  “Ooooh girl, you stink!” she said.  I shot her a nasty look, but then realized she was talking about the other chick’s feet.  So THAT was what I’d been smelling all this time.   She then stood by the door tapping her foot.  “Well, are you comin’ or not?”

“Absolutely, I said,” and followed her down the hall, past more cells and more pathetic inmates contemplating their own sad as shit lives.  Or maybe how to escape.  I practically skipped down the hall, relieved to be going home where things were normal and where I could pee in private and sleep on a real mattress with a real non-Army issued blanket.

So Paris, my dear, you do not have my sympathies.  Even though you spent a lot more time in YOUR cell than I did in mine, at least I know I could do 45 days in a special needs, private cell.  Why?  Because I do not suffer from wussieitis.  I live in the real world and do real work.  Because I actually learned something from my experience, unlike you.  You apparently believe with all your heart that the law just doesn’t apply to you.   

Advice:  Grow up, sweetie.  Contribute something to society.  And for cryin’ out loud, eat something why dontcha?

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7 Responses to “Paris Hilton is a pussy”


  1. 1 V- June 8, 2007 at 6:11 am

    The worst part of it, is that I’ve been put in a position in which I agree with the Rev Al Sharpton. I had my few hours in jail too…I bawled like the baby I am. 🙂

  2. 2 observantbystander June 8, 2007 at 7:57 am

    And this is the reason we haven’t told our mothers about our blogs…TMI they don’t need to ever, ever know.
    P.S. I cried like a baby after it was all over.

    Did you notice that they’re talking about the Belton missing teen now??? They’re wondering if there’s a link between Kelsey’s murder and Kara Kopetsky’s disappearance.

  3. 3 V- June 8, 2007 at 8:12 am

    I hope she’s actually a run away, but it really doesn’t seem like her and the coincedences are just to much for me to really believe that there is no connection.

    I will let my mom continue to live with her delusions of me. It’s better for both of us.

  4. 4 poseidonsmuse June 8, 2007 at 9:36 pm

    Your comments on Ms. Hilton’s wussieitis are completely warranted (I got a good belly laugh out of your post, but I also hear your frustration). I wonder if the Hilton family own shares in that particular jail (perhaps she had chocolate mints placed on her pillow at night too)? As for your story Observant – good on you for being a “real woman”. It takes alot of guts and courage to face the proverbial “establishment”. I nearly crapped myself when I was pulled over for speeding (twice!) – so I couldn’t imagine what you experienced. As for mothers – yeah, well…we’ll let that one go for now… Hugs my friend. Have a wonderful weekend!

  5. 5 observantbystander June 11, 2007 at 6:08 am

    Poseidon: When I first started blogging, my parents were reading regularly which was nice, but tended to inhibit what I could write about. Now they just think I quit writing. Little do they know that I’m doing much better writing now that they’re not reading!

  6. 6 stash September 22, 2007 at 8:48 pm

    I think she is a very smart cookie and more concerned about money than her public image.
    I would be willing to bet my left testical that she is going to make alot of money out of the whole situation and people like you are the reason why, i quite simply fail to see why people give a shit about someone who has accomplished so little.

    Hahaha! I think this really bothers you! May I ask why?

  7. 7 pereztravellodge July 15, 2008 at 5:40 pm

    No matter what you say I Like her – she smells of salad


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