PARIS HILTON'S "RECORD" RELEASE

Tiring of the phenomenal singers who pumped up the rest of Miami Beach's Winter Music Conference, I attended the listening party for Paris Hilton's new record. Oddly enough, the song's name wasn't even mentioned on the invite, though I must admit, the slut looks awfully stylish.



Purdy power-dykes Tracy Young and Madonna's ex/ Miami socialite Ingrid Casares excitedly met us at the door, obviously cofusing me for Paris and both slobbering for my imaginary cunt. Sorry, goils!



Once I freed myself from their wo-manhandling and entered The Fifth, not only was the club not packed (or is that hand-picked and exclusive?), there were but a few paparazzi present, though the do was sponsored by Absolut, Entertainment Weekly and her label, Warner Brothers. Proving without a doubt that Paris-mania is thankfully over, I realized that the poor girl was actually employed by the club to take drink orders! How dreadfully common of her!



Horrified, I WAS at her listening party, so I gave her song a fair chance as she rocked back and forth, remotely on the beat.



Of course, that's not really Paris. It's some whore in a cheap, blonde synthetic wig. No! I mean the one on the left, you assholes!

MY SONG'LL BE BIGGER THAN ALL OF NICOLE RITCHIE'S DAD'S HITS COMBINED!



DJ Tracy Young threw on her mix of the unnamed tune and Paris flailed her arms wanly, but as a credit to Tracy's seamless mixing skills, I couldn't really figure out where Paris's song began. But here's the bad news--it really didn't sound that poor. The vox had heavy effects on them, but it didn't sound any worse than anything recorded by Lindsay Lohan or Hillary Duff. Until I removed my earplugs, anyway.



Though the club wasn't that crowded, everyone jammed in around Paris as she shared the booth with "her favorite" remixers Paul Oakenfeld, Chus and Ceballos and Tracy, as photogs snapped away. Not known for her attention span, Paris lost interest the second a big black dick was shoved towards her mouth. She closed her eyes, parted her lips, and began caressing her nipples to this Christ-loving woman's horror!



Not satisfied with the vulgarity of this shocking display, Paris's designer drugs must have really been kicking in as she quickly clipped on a brunette, mane-like fall and a bridle and climbed into a depraved sling which The Fifth had hung from the ceiling at her request. Bored with her wanton media circus, the small crowd all but vanished.



Okay, so I'm lying. If anyone ever needed to see another picture of Miss Hilton, here's mine.

SO SHE'S NO COLORATURA. BUT SHE HAS AN EXCELLENT COLORIST.



"COULD YOU LIKE TELL THEM TO TURN THIS AWFUL MUSIC DOWN? WHAT'S THAT? YOU MEAN IT'S MY SONG PLAYING?"



I don't need to demonstrate to anyone that Tyson Beckford is gorgeous, but please explain this look to me. Why would he want to pose with a facial expression which reads "I'm mean, I'm scary, I'm a hostile animal. And I don't want to let a fat drag queen blow me."



The Williams Sisters, Hulk Hogan's singing brat, and the recent Academy Award-winning rappers whose name I don't want to recall were present. But only sweet Kelly Rowland would pose with Elaine and me.



Now you know the real reason Destiny's Child is breaking up--Kelly has joined two other no-talents who can't sing to form an all-new group! But here's the big switcheroo: her two new bandmates are older and uglier than her so this time SHE, not Beyotchze, can play Diane Ross!

(Someone please teach me to erace chins in photoshop!)

Kelly found Elaine quite fascinating..the size of her foot, anyway.



Madonna's bother (sic!) Christopher Ciccone, who I've always had a blast in the past with and even roomed with in P'town, was awfully sour. Since I'm not an expert lenswoman, I try to take a lot of shots since I never know how they're gonna turn out. After maybe 4 I took of him, he snatched my camera, refused to return it and then arrogantly placed it on the ground! I guess he was on the wrong combo of whatever. He explained that he was camera shy since he knew he didn't look good. He looked fine to me. But out of respect for him, I won't post any of his pix here. And Christopher, let it hereby be publicly known that I was never attracted to you for your looks anyway. You used to have a fun personality. With that plainly gone, seeing as how I don't give a fuck about your rotten sister and I'm unlikely to be hiring you or anyone else to interior decorate my one-room sty, you can go fuck yourself! Did you ever think of asking me not to take your picture before slapping my new camera on the ground in a club? Some grimy, diseased gunk could have gotten on it--the ritzy club's floor, I mean.

Thankfully, there was plenty of other eye candy. This hunk on the left was certainly looking sexy and I don't even like blondes! His boyfriend (left) is Colombian sweetheart Ricky whose hair is prematurely white. OK, so it's not premature! I'm kidding, and I think Ricky's one of the nicest and sexiest guys on earth and I'd gladly be his Lucy any day!



ROTTEN RICKY STEALING MY FAVORITE POSE!




Bo Beasley from TRL is a hoot and a half, and he escorted Elaine and I to the swanky powder room where a make-up artist/hair stylist was on hand! I twiddled the Cuban cutie's nipples as he whipped up my mange.

This stud is named Granville and came all the way from Canada for the conference. He emailed me on myspace to ask if the picture came out well. As if this bastard's ever taken a bad one!



Check out his music on his www.myspace.com/granville and don't worry, there's more pix of him, too!