A couple years ago, she called my house out of the blue and asked if I could go to this nightclub opening in Vegas with her. I of course told her that I would not be able to, and that as a general rule I would only attend such an event with my wife. She went on with some ridiculous nonsense about how sexy I was in "An Inconvenient Truth", but I finally got her to admit that she'd been put up to asking me out on a dare.
Anyway, I think she was fairly surprised that she got "rejected" - apparently married people in Hollywood generally have no problem when their spouses go to nightclubs with other people? Well, I'm not sure what she was thinking, but for some reason she started calling me a lot. She'd ask me out on some kind of date or outing, and I would say no of course. Then I'd try to tell her that she is an intelligent girl and she just needs to apply herself and be a tad less slutty, and she could really make something of herself. Honestly, I think she liked getting advice from me. (I'm pretty sure she didn't take any of it though.)
Despite the fatherly tone of my conversations with Paris, Tipper started getting kind of annoyed after a while, and really who can blame her? She was worried about rumors spreading. I mean, let's face it. I'm Al Gore. I'm mostly serious with a bit of fun, light-hearted humor sprinkled in now and then. I testify to congress, fund raise, release bald eagles into the wild, that sort of thing. If John Denver were still alive, the two of us could be photographed together. Paris Hilton, not so much. That is why one day Tipper finally said "Hey Al, can we take Paris off of the List?"
The List is a list of names of friends and family. We change our phone number a lot, probably every few months or so, due to prank calls and whatnot, and the people on the List get notified every time that happens. When I say get notified I mean that someone on our staff calls them. Obviously I don't have time to sit there and call hundreds of people.
After the next number change, we still get calls from Paris. She got the number so quickly, we figured that someone on the list must be leaking it to her. Tipper and I looked at the list and on the first page we spotted our answer. Bill.
I called Bill and asked him about Paris, and he confirmed my suspicion. "Why Al, this nice young lady, who happens to be very attractive, calls me up and asks for your number. I may be a lot of things, but I am not a cock-blocker."
I explained the situation to him, and asked him if he could do me a favor. I then gave him the phone number of Cousin Frank. Now, Cousin Frank is not my cousin. He's a guy I went to high school with. I could tell some stories about Frank but suffice it to say that you can find some pretty hard-core hick stuff going on in Tennessee, and Frank exemplifies that quite well. Missing teeth, banjo, works in a mine, the whole bit.
Bill agreed to give Frank's number to Paris after our next number change, and ever since that time I had not heard from Paris again. Until yesterday.
to be continued...
P.S. Today is day 6 of my no coffee challenge. The headaches have finally subsided, but I am still taking a nap every afternoon. It's very strange. I am so glad that tomorrow is the last day of this nonsense, because I don't really have time for naps. Maybe when I'm 85 or so I can start that.
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