Paris Hilton bores me, and this whole prison saga bores me even more than her usual comings and goings (except for when Nancy Grace and her crazy-ass cast of characters do a segment on it - then I am gleefully entertained), but can we all agree that three weeks in the clink certainly did her face some good? I mean, I'm half convinced I should set aside this and this and all those other trannied-up pics of her and admit she is indeed a natural beauty.
It almost makes me want to indulge in a product-free lifestyle for the better part of a month and revert back to a time when it was just my bare-freckled face, a bar of Dove and a pump or two of hand lotion rubbed over the apples of my cheeks for good measure.
But then again, given that I almost cried when I thought I'd left my makeup bag at the office this morning (I didn't - Monte had strategically hidden it in one of his four beds to delay my departure), I think I'd better just let this nostalgia pass, not follow through with my get-in-jail plan to "do whatever it takes" to show Dick how good my rack looks in my XS "Cheney in '08" babydoll tee, and instead, for the now sixth time today, strut my butt to the little cowgirl's room to touch up my eyeliner.
