I'm going to preface this post by saying I'm already disgusted and ashamed of myself for writing about Kim Karwhatever earlier this week. To go against my better judgement and the promises I made to myself when I started this thing, I'm going to now write about the walking Herpes Zoster herself. Someone that makes a career out of being notorious and infected on home video makes me sick. As if her life wasn't going to be easy enough, people pay her as much as $100,000 just for making an appearance. Why? She's famous for being famous. I couldn't name one thing of substance she's done besides the critically acclaimed low budget films, House of Wax and One Night in Paris.
Despite all of the aforementioned rigmarole, Paris is in Cannes doing what she does best...spreading a mélange of sexually trasmitted diseases. I'm not sure what her intentions are in the picture above, but if I were the recipient of that, I would be scared she's trying to eat my soul. Couple her cannibalism with her sinewy, freakishly Marfan Syndrome hands and feet and you've got one creepy night of insanely poor decisions. Honestly, all freakish things considered, Paris is either the absolute worst lover of all time, or she's an alien sent here to suck the central nervous system out of every man on Earth.
