I hate Paris Hilton. I hate her a lot more than I did a few hours ago. I can thank my sister for that.
My sister, to put it bluntly, is a royal pain in the butt. This is a feeling that many siblings share, but I can guarantee that my sister is much more annoying than yours because for all her rants and idiotic sermons on how I’m ruining my life, the truth is that she is always right. Nothing can make you more pissed off at a sibling than for them to always be correct.
My sister often stops by my place unannounced. I’m not sure if she does this to make sure that I haven’t morphed into the couch (good – because if I have, I won’t be able to get up and get beer from the fridge) or just to annoy the hell out of me (bad – and likely the real reason she stops by). This is exactly what she did as I was watching the Olympics.
She walked in and flopped down next to me on the couch with an armful of gossip magazines in her arms. Completely ignoring me, she began to leaf through them.
“Why do you insist on reading that crap?” I ask.
“Why do you insist on watching that crap?” she shot back without even lifting her head from the magazine. “At least reading this is more productive than sitting on my butt all day drinking beer and watching TV.”
“That’s debatable,” I said, feeling that I may have a winning hand in this argument. “Look at the crap you’re reading. Paris Hilton. Like that can be compared to the Olympics. Paris is a lazy, silver spoon ditz that everyone in the world hates with a passion.”
“Well, if you think that Paris is a lazy ditz, then how do you rate yourself?” she asked, finally raising her head from the magazine to look me straight in the eye.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I demanded.
“Tell me exactly what you have accomplished in your life? Paris Hilton is younger than you, she has her own company, she has made a movie, she has recorded a song, she has had a hit TV show and she is highly paid to go to events. That ‘Lazy Ditz’ has worked 1000 times harder than you ever have,” she said matter of factly and then went back to reading her magazine.
“But she was born rich,” I protested. “She had all the advantages…”
“Which proves that she didn’t have to do any of the things she has accomplished if she hadn’t wanted to. She doesn’t have to do a thing and she still works harder than you,” she said while still reading her magazine as if this argument wasn’t even worth her time. “Can you name one thing that you have done better than her?”
“I’ve been to jail longer,” I said with a sly grin.
“Exactly,” she said. “My point has been proven.”
This left me with a choice to make. I could continue to be a couch potato and have to listen to my sister remind me how Paris Hilton is more productive than I am every time she comes over, or I could use this as motivation to change my ways and be productive. I decided to use it as motivation to become more productive.
When my sister left, I got up off the couch, picked up the pile of magazines my sister had left and tore out all the photos of Paris. I then headed down into the basement with Paris photos in one hand and my beer in the other. I tacked up the Paris photos to the dart board and started throwing darts as hard as I could at her face for the next hour as I slowly sipped my beer and contemplated how I could be more productive.
I don’t know if this actually helped me to think more about my life and what I want to accomplish, but it sure felt good to take out some frustration. And it got me off the couch. Baby steps. You always have to start with baby steps.
Image courtesy of Alex CD