Feb 22, 2005 11:15 AM
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Hollywood, 5:37 PM
Tue Feb 9
57 posts in the last 24 hours
Even though we can operate nothing more complicated than a blender without detailed instructions, stories about the Secret Service investigating the Paris Hilton hacking had us a little paranoid—last night, we slept with TWO flashlights, spooned with a Louisville Slugger, and carefully tiptoed to the front door in our footy pajamas every time a floorboard creaked. Finally, this morning, the jig was up:
From: FBI@fbi.gov Subject: You visit illegal websitesDear Sir/Madam,
we have logged your IP-address on more than 40 illegal Websites.
Important: Please answer our questions! The list of questions are attached.
We haltingly clicked the attachment, expecting thirty trenchcoat-clad G-Men to flood out of the FireWire port and work us over until we told them everything we know about the identity of Egplant Dike Ass. Please, Johnny Q. Law, don't hurt the goldfish, they don't know nothin'! We surrender!
Fortunately, all of the FBI questions were aimed at gauging our interest in watching horny housewives perform questionable activities on individuals whose manhoods are measured in double-digits (except for one that inscrutably hinted at something called "hot barnyard action," whatever that is). And even though Hilton's Sidekick photos contained an unsettling image of her nuzzling a skunk (apparently, the lucky little guy was the last VIP left at Concorde one night), we're pretty sure the FBI isn't hot on our trail, unless they've subcontracted their investigation to porn spammers. For now.
UPDATE: Please read this before scolding us about clicking on unsolicited e-mail attachments supposedly sent by the FBI.
To celebrate, sister site Gawker has the entirety of Hilton's (redacted) phonebook posted.
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