Furious

So Paris got out today and I'm going in. To rehab! Not jail. Jail is gross. My lawyerlady says that I need to show the judges that I'm serious about getting my life in order. I was like, "Am I?" And she was all, "You better be." So whatever. I'm just going to Promises to detox and get some rest. Because I am tired you guys. The other night, I was sitting down by the fire pit just being all exhausted and whatever and I saw this raccoon walking by and it looked so cute with its little hands and its little mask, I was totally thinking, "I wish all animals could be so well accessorized." The only thing that would have made it cuter would have been like pearls and a little handbag. Anyway, the next thing I knew, it was morning and raining and I was still by the firepit and that was not cute you guys. So maybe rehab is a good place for me because I'm pretty sure if you are putting together mental outfits for the varmits on your compound, it's time to get your ass to Promises.