No entry for victims of Ebola
The Globes, the parties…
Let’s start with Jared Leto. Jared Leto’s career died about a year ago after he was photographed kissing Hollywood Ebola Paris Hilton at Sundance. You can read its obituary here.
Been ages since Leto “acted” and his only activities at this point seem to consist of hopping from one MTV VMA awards show to another with his band – but only internationally. Not welcome at home.
So on Saturday night before the Golden Globes, Jared was at Edison where he was described as “disheveled and gross” and “went up to girl after girl, put his arm around (her) and said Let’s go f-ck!”
Even in Hollywood, no one took him up on his offer.
Because he’s been infected with Hollywood Ebola.
See? Paris Hilton will f-ck you up.
Just ask Adrian Grenier.
He and Ebola – they are friends, remember? – showed up at the Sunset Tower for the CAA party after the Globes where a strict guest list was being enforced. The Brange, Cammie D, Tom and Katie were all inside. Not surprisingly Ebola was turned away. And Adrian was too.
The star of a hit HBO show can’t get into a CAA party.
See? Paris Hilton will f-ck you up.
This is another benefit of awards season. In recent times, the line has been blurred between true celebrity and pretender. Thanks to the Hiltons and the Hills, some have forgotten that there is an upper A list and a lower D list.
But then the Globes come along. And the SAGs. And the Oscars too.
And then you know. You know that on those few nights, Lauren Conrad will not be at the Kodak. And you know that not even a Adrian Grenier can get into a party where Brad, Angie, the GMD, his Robo, and the real movie stars can mingle without cross contamination from the tv people or, worse still, from the reality twats.
For one evening then, the world is right again.
As for the potency of the diseases coming out of Hollywood Ebola’s black vaginal pit – never, EVER let your guard down. If you still don’t believe, please read the following firsthand account from a reader we’ll call Hannah who made the mistake of underestimating Paris Ebola. It’s a long message but it’s a valuable lesson. Hannah learned hers the hard way. Don’t make the same mistake. Like a parable from the Bible, we should return to the story of Hannah and Ebola time and again to stay vigilant.
I am writing to let you know how Hollywood Ebola struck in my own home.
Two years ago, in the midst of a midlife crisis that saw my parents sell their home and travel Europe for a couple of years, they attended a charity auction for the Janus Academy (great charity by the way) whilst on a short visit to Calgary. There were, of course, numerous items in the auction, but for my mother the event was more about socializing than bidding…leaving my father to watch for items, like a 52" plasma tv with home theatre system. My parents' conversation went something like this:
Mom – chatting to neighbor at table.
Dad: "Look at that TV – isn't that nice?"
Mom: "Wha-? Sure…mmhmm" (turning back to chat with neighbor at table)
And so it was that my father purchased a home theatre system for a home they did not have. Now, by some frame of default and possible Catholic guilt from having uprooted me from their home when they sold it, my father decided that the TV should be installed in my condo and that I could "borrow" it (re: keep it) until they settled somewhere again. My sad 19" Citizen TV with the built in VHS (TV is not a priority for me) was retired and eventually donated to my boyfriend's mother, and I became very used to having a TV that amassed almost my entire 54" wall. So much so, that I purchased cable, and a Shaw box with PVR. And my grades almost immediately dropped, I think I gained some weight, and life seemed pretty grand.
In 2008, I saw an ad on MTV for a terrible atrocity called "Paris Hilton's My New BFF." I was of course mortified because she is a mindless troll, not to be indulged, and really…"My New BFF"?? Augh.
But my interest was piqued. How could this show actually be watch-able? So, halfway through the first (second?) episode I turned the TV on and saw it.
Terrible. Completely awful. And, like all train wrecks, I was enthralled; Paris calling the contestants "Pets", contestants worshipping her…it was morbidly fascinating.
And then I did the unthinkable.
I set my PVR to "series recording."
A week after Christmas (and of course after the Boxing Day sales) I woke up one morning, turned on my beloved TV, and was met with a black screen with little virus-like red sparkles and parallel bars of random colors to one side.
I knew. But I didn't want to believe.
Doesn't help that LG's warranty is only effective if sent in within 10 days of purchase…a fact I overlooked.
The TV repairman came out and the diagnosis form actually reads, under the "Quote" section:
The TV has been ruled a suicide. So angry at me for having subjected it to the Ebola virus, and so infected by the curse of such vacancy known only to Paris Hilton, it left me.
My savings for law school had to be dipped into, the 52" plasma lies lifeless on the floor and a much smaller Sony in its place.
I should be sending Paris the bill.
Anyways, I wanted to let you know about my own personal brush with the Ebola Virus.
Never again, Lainey…never again.
Photos from Wenn.com