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Paris Hilton's Prison Diary — Jun 6th 2007

By James Marcus

Will Paris Hilton chronicle her visit to the slammer? According to this dispatch from the New York Post, Hilton's agent was "repeatedly approached by publishers" during the course of last weekend's Book Expo America. So far no deal has been struck, and even Touchstone Fireside, the publisher of the madcap heiress's bestselling memoir, sounded iffy. But perhaps we're selling Hilton short. She'll be peering into a pretty serious abyss--at least for the next 23 days--and here's a glimpse of what the iconic blond and habitually reckless driver might see there:

Lots of people here at the Century Regional Detention Facility got really freaked out when I complained about the steamed broccoli. It came on a little plastic dish and I thought it was, like, gross. The CO who served it to me had a real attitude. I wasn't going to get all bitchy on her, because like I always say, a true heiress is never mean to anyone--not unless that person stole your boyfriend or invaded your personal space in the exercise yard. So at first I just smiled a big, confident, sexy smile. Nothing tacky, just the kind of thing a fashion icon does to keep people guessing. That way they want to know more. That way they assume you have a Perfect Life, even if you're temporarily living in a 12-by-8 cell and the other inmates all have some kind of icky staph infection, so you keep washing your hands. Anyway, I didn't want the broccoli. So I didn't eat it. I sat there in my orange pants and orange top (pretty hot, all things considered) and tried not to get all serious. Being serious means you have no imagination, no sizzle, no sex appeal--it's like having the word B-O-R-I-N-G written on your forehead. In my case that wouldn't matter as much, because my hair usually falls across my forehead unless I gel it up pretty good. That's just the kind of hair I have. So half the word would probably get blocked. All you would see is R-I-N-G, or maybe just I-N-G. Anyway, I came to jail straight from the MTV Movie Awards. Will Ferrell and Borat (who's got some kind of totally gross beard now) won for Best Kiss--can you believe that? I told the reporters that I was trying to stay strong, which I am. I wore a very classy off-the-shoulder thing, black and frilly, which I knew would be inappropriate for Century Regional, so I changed into a simple, classy V-neck blouse. I touched up my eye make-up. A little lip gloss. Nothing too Barbie (not to dump on Barbie, she's my spirit guide!) Anyway, that's it for Day One. I miss Tinkerbell. But I'll walk the line, or however that song goes, with or without my blush-toned Manolos, and I'll survive. Because that's what an heiress does. Don't let anyone tell you different, girlfriend.


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