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Please Paris, say it isn’t so

This week I received the most dreadful news.

My dear friend Paris Hilton is heading to a Los Angeles County Jail for violating her parole (from a DUI charge) by driving on a suspended license.

I know it’s too shocking to even comprehend.

To help keep Paris’s morale up I’ve decided to pen/type her a letter for those 45 lonely nights behind cold steel bars.

I’m not sure if Paris can actually read what I wrote, but perhaps one of the guards stationed outside of her 12 by eight foot cell could read it to her.

To: Paris “Fabulous” Hilton, Inmate # 90210

C/o Century Regional Detention Facility

Lynwood, CA 90262

Hey Girlfriend!

I am soooo sorry to hear about your current legal crisis.

They would not let me send a Cover Girl care package to you or your favorite pair of Manolos, something about nail files and pointy objects not being allowed.

I would send you a copy of Newsweek, but I know you’d “rather watch the movie.”

So, hopefully, this letter will keep your spirits up and help to pass some of your lengthy sentence that you’ve called “cruel and unwarranted.”

Like, I didn’t even know you knew those words. Hooked on Phonics has definitely worked for you. You’ve totally learned so much.

It must be soooo tough living in a private cell isolated from the rest of the inmate population. Not to mention gooing up your manicure with hot glue from those tacky arts and crafts projects. Eww!

Or is it license plates that you’re painting this week?

And the food sounds horrible.

Chicken every day? Gawd! You’ll get fat! Don’t they know you’re on a strict diet of iceberg lettuce and Diet Coke?

They should realize you need to still fit in your awesome designer clothes when you come home.

You should ask them to send that chicken to a country, like Africa or something, where people need to get fat.

Ugh, and that terrible orange jumpsuit. At the very least they could give you the classic black and white striped outfit. Black and white is totally in this year!

Eeek! And the florescent lighting! You poor thing.

Try and steer clear of it. Stay in the natural light coming through the six inch window. It’s far less harsh on your features than icky florescent lights…and it would really help with the upkeep of your tan.

You know who should be in prison? Mischa Barton, placed there by the fashion police, of course. Seriously, why does she always feel the need to wear table cloths? She’s a total fashion disaster.

I really wish you’d get out soon so a ghost writer, no, I’m sorry, I meant you can write about your experience in the slammer and earn billions more dollars. LOL!

Lindsay and Britney have been soooo lonely. They’ve been dancing on table tops every night without you and taking turns holding each other’s hair back. They’re so adorable!

Tinkerbell, your little puppy, is getting along great. All those nights you’ve left her to go out to clubs—she’s completely self-sufficient, like a wild dog.

Oh, Paris how I do miss reading about your nights of debauchery, fashion slip ups and all that you…don’t do.

What kind of country do we live in where a billion dollar heiress is sent to jail for breaking the law? I mean OMG!

It’s not like you killed anyone driving on a suspended license, you just like…could have.

Hugs!

Amanda