Tax crook? Moi ?

Dollfaces,
You know I'm not short of a dollar or billion. I can always be found among the great unwashed, where throngs of bargain-hunters descend on Bloomingdales every January (Trust me - the super-outsized glasses and wig work a treat, pussycats. Just ask Kelly Osbourne.)

You know me, I hate the I'm-trying-to-hard-with-the-bling look a la P Diddy and J-Lo. Ka-peesh? It's so 1996. Less is more my friends.

Anyways, I'm having a bit of trouble with my Hell-Ay tax attorney Ferris Wheeler. I only hired him because my good friend Don Corleone, my neighbour Martha Stewart and one of my celebrity fans, Ken Dodd, recommended him as a stand-up guy. But sheesh, the dude is a stickler for receipts 'n' stuff. He's even asked me to list all the freebies and goodie-bags I've been given over the last 3 years. I mean, who is this guy? Mother Theresa?

What's happened to the world, people? What is wrong with anyone, me included, just trying to make an honest buck by exploiting my assets and talents? Or using my well-heeled connections to run the competition outta town? (I mean, Gawd, if it's good enough for Bryce Dallas Howard and Rumer Willis, heck yeah - count me in dollfaces. Because those two would sooo have had top-billing in The Village and Hostage without a hand up from Daddios Ron Howard and Bruce Willis. Natch!)

Mind you, some people take using their connections waaaay too far. Whaddya think ??? Ciao for niao... Perisxxx

http://www.prisonplanet.com/german_firm_probes_final_world_trade_center_deals.htm

The worst cafe EVAH in Manly,Brisbane, Australia

Mwwaah again dahlings.
Peris here.
Just had to keep my "possum" friends Down Under happy.
As you know, my best pal Tara Reid (after Nicole R, that is) spent time in Australia for some racing thang in the country's bewdiful Queensland coast.
You'll know from watching Tara going wild on E! that even more than sex and getting some DIY plastic surgery, she loooves her food. Her verdict on Australia? Food is $hit. Tara's entourage had a few dodgy experiences in Queensland's Gold Coast, but the worst evah was in a little place north of surfing heaven called Manly. This place even has the gold-plated nerve to name their eaterie after the best-ever movie in the world, Da Vinci Code. Sheesh!

Anyhowz, the place was reviewed by Tara's minder, and his family - go look-see people -and for Gawds' sakes, don't order the French toast, already. As IF.

http://www.my247.com.au/brisbane/reviews/Cafe-Da-Vinci.67

Mwwwwwah and mwwwwah again dahlings.
Peris here.

Woke up today with real bad "bed hair". A bouffante, Goddamit.

Mommy reckons little sis Nicky was up to her old tricks again - siphoning off my Daniel Galvin and Kerastase shampoo and swapping it for aWalmart own brand ... or more likely, Sunsilk or Schwarzkopf. Geez no waaaay mom. I mean, get real...I would have noticed the hives and allergic reaction on her bod if she'd pulled a stunt like that.

Anydos, Nic denied all knowledge. Whatev !

Gene Poole (Nic's new life coach/personal trainer/hair stylist) reckons it's all to do with these ET drones that have been seen round our neck of the Californian woods, near Hell-Ay. Prolly causing electricity or static in the air, which made my hair puff up to massive propotions - even bigger than Kelly Osbourne's ego.

"Defrizz me now, Gene" : Kelly Osbourne
-----------------------------------------
Gene says everyone who has been through his salon has run in screaming - "defrizz me NOW Gene!" - and he means everyone. Sheesh. In the non-biblical sense.

Yep, you heard it here first... first to come in screaming in was Kelly Osbourne, then Nicole Kidman and her hub-unit Keith Cobain, closely followed by Shakira (go figure!) and Sanjaya... well, like, HULLO ?

Anyways, I was like - a bit sceptical about this UFO drone thing. I texted Gene to let him know it was prolly Nicole R showing off her new private transport (Lionel's private jet doesn't really do it for her anymore.)

But no, Gene was adamant. These drones have been developed in the "deep black" for over two decades - and can "cloak" themselves with some sorta invisibility shield. They give out all sorta radiation, most of it toxic to hair extensions. Like, whateva!

I said there was NO WAY that NASA, or the US Government ,would be able to fly these babies around and keep it secret for thaaat long. I mean, c'mon. Barbara Walters would have invited the pilot onto The View by now.

Anywayhows, check out the pix on my blog and see for yourselves, dollfaces. (And what's with all the weird hyroglyphics on the wings of this, goddamit?

My money's on a new mode of transport being secretly trialled for Richard Branson to get his Californian pals between Hell-Ay and the Virgin Islands.) Whaddya think ???

Some gal called Linda Moulton Howe's got the full story on it at: http://www.earthfiles.com/

Boney M

MMMMMwah dahlings.
Peris here.

Since I've been a free woman, my star is definitely on the ascendancy, ka-peesh?

I've had Tad Pole from Vogue, Paige Turner of NY Post, Dan Druff from CNN, Lance Boyle from SBS, Kandi Apple from the San Fran Chron AND the Dalai Lama and all these like, wow, HUGE names in journalism ring my agent desperate for lil old me to come out of the closet and reveal all.

(As if, peaches-hon. A girl's gotta know when to keep some things private, right? )

Anyhows, while I was in solitary, I was like TOTALLY cut off from the outside world, with no clue of what was with news and current affairs, like ... was Britney hot 'n' heavy with K-Fed again? (Hope not - she sure don't need that gold-diggin' white trash pulling her princessa butt into the gutter.) And my old gal pal, Nicole Richie - has she gotta bun in the oven? All the big-ticket stuff... Whatev!

Anyways, I was thumbing thru the last copies of Nat Enquirer and OK! who had the nerve to keep publishing while I was going through hell in a cell (how they managed to find enough news and pictures to fill their pages while I was in the big house, well, I shuh will never know.)

I thumbed through the mags while I was in the waiting room of my aura cleanser and spiritualist advisor, Anne Teak.

She is like, a hundred and 70, and is a spooky old British lady with a hotline to the other side.

And goddamit, she is such an old gasbag. But she did say that since my release, I would be a woman on a mission to spread The Word.

Yes, I am on a mission (according to Teaky's runes) to transform the world from zeros to heroes - in the fashion stakes!

My first mission is to take on some British woman and tell her what the hell not to wear. (Why oh why do British women dress like such frumps?....hmmm? Ms Kate Winslet and Ms Sienna Miller? Yup, yours truly has never been into Yo-Yo diets, or leaving the house without making sure my eyebrows matched my hairline) .

Anytimes, her name is Tranny Woodall, or something, and she styles herself as a British Anna Wintour. As IF, dahlings. Anyroads, to see the gargantuan task that lies ahead of me, check out these pix I've posted of her to my blog.

(Tranny on the right.)

Sheesh. Those bones. Those bingo wings. (Cover your ears now Nicole - no offence directed at you sweetie - you're the only girl I know who can pull off Boney M chic.)

And while we're on a roll with making over our gal pals across the Pond, it's never a good look to go cruising with your mom, Beatrice. 'Cept for me of course... that poor girl. Imagine - being known for just being a par-tae girl - and now her daughter is going the same way. Yep, this mom-and-child pair-up got me thinking, it's like the Gastineau Girls but without the N-Why-See attitude and wisecracks.

Till next time dollfaces... Peris x

PS> Booty and the Beach post will be coming to you soon. Just as soon as Teaky has cleansed my aura of the prison carbolic soap. Goddamn.

Old Spice

MMMMMwah dahlings.
Peris here.

Fresh out of jail. Foil-fresh, fragrant and wearing no panties. At least that way I didn't need to turn them inside out every night. Ka-peesh ?

Anyhows, I started this little blogg when I was in the big house reading about all those cool things those guys Matthew, Luke and John did.

That's when I knew my life had like totally changed.

I am sooo a better person. I swear to God mom. I was reading the Bible and not fantasising about being done 60 diff ways by McConnaughey, Wilson and Cusack - sheesh.

But it did get kinda sweaty back there in my top bunk for a while... (Sorry 'bout that Charmaine. I've left you two sticks of Hubba Bubba and a diamante-thong behind the 3rd window bar on the right.)

Anyways, I was almost tempted to call my attorney and have him call the judge to tell him I want to be locked up to serve the rest of my sentence.
Why? Because five saggy English girls known as Old Spice, Retarded Spice, Hetero-Esque Spice, Tattooed 'n' Pierced Spice and ... uh, the one that's stood close to the airbed inflator (HULLO - are those boobies for real ??? They're fighting to get away from you, baby girl...

...they've decided to make a "comeback" and drag their Prada-covered bootys all over the globe to "thank" their fans. Now, I hate to bust their booble, whoops, I mean bubble. But believe me honey, the only way to thank your fans is invite them into your bedroom for a bit of a look-see while you bounce around with your hub-unit - or the latest victim of your pap-pleasing par-tae.

Not ONE of these hasbeens ... errr... I mean ladeez, are mattress-worthy.

In par-tick, Old Spice. I mean, c'mon. Get real. You've got to know how to work that camera, baby. Just ask her hub-unit. David Bra-ckham. (He can orbit in my Galaxy any time :) And perhaps he will, tee hee. I even SMS-d his bootylicious ex-girlfriend Rebecca Loose to find out how she managed to snare such a great piece of manhood. Miaow! Now there's a pussycat doll that knows how to Pimp Her Ride. Know whadda mean???

Next time - Booty and the Beach.