Is that Paris, smoking a joint?!?!

(An imagined coversation between Paris and her friend, at the Nelson Mandela Bay Stadium for a World Cup match. Totally fictional, of course. Or is it? *insert The Twilight Zone music here*)

Is this a photo of Paris smoking a massive joint? No, sadly, it's not. Although the resemblance is remarkable. This is, in fact, an awesome drawing by my girlfriend, Megan, of a lady blowing a vuvuzela.

“Hey, Paris. You hear there’s a town in South Africa that has your name? It’s spelt funny, though. It has a ‘Y’?”

“That’s hot. But my name isn’t Yaris.”

“Ha ha ha.”

“What’s funny? My name isn’t Yaris.”

“No, Paris, the ‘Y’ is in the middle of your name.”

“That’s hot. But my name isn’t Payris, either…”

“Never mind. I just got it wrong. There is no South African town with your name.”

“Ha ha ha. That’s hot.”

“No, Paris. Bloody hell. It’s not hot.”

“You saying that is hot.”

“Uuurgh! Hmm… (thinks to herself) I wonder if I can keep Paris quiet, even for a few minutes. Hmm… Ah ha! I know. (speaking loudly again) Hey, Paris, I’ve got something for you.”

“Ooh, what is it? A joint? That’s hot.”

**Enter two Afrikaans police officers**

“Hello ladies. What are can that be in your hand?”

Paris, giggling: “Tee hee hee. You’re hot.”

“No, madam, I can not being hot. I can are being smelling dagga.”

“What is dagger?”

“Not dagger, ma’am. Dagga. It’s what we here call marijuana.”

“Oh, weed… That’s hot.”

Second cop, looking at Paris’ friend: “How do you put up with this?”

Friend, holding up a second joint: “Weed, that’s how. It makes her shut up.”

“Good thinking. But you’ll both have to come with us.”

**fast forward to the court case**

Magistrate: “Good evening, everyone. This seems pretty straightforward. Before we proceed, does anyone have anything to say.”

Paris, still high, jumps up and down, raising her hand excitedly.

Magistrate: “Yes?”

Paris: “Your robes are hot.”

“Thank you, but I don’t understand the relevance of your statement.”

“Relevence?”

“Never mind. How do you plead?”

“Pleading is hot.”

“Uurgh! Really? Hot? This is no laughing matter, ma’am. You are in trouble here.”

Paris’ friend: “Mr judge, I, um… I was wondering. If I say that I was involved and that Paris was an innocent bystander, does that mean I would be moved away from her? Because I don’t think that I can deal with her on our safari, which starts tomorrow. Plus, she doesn’t know the difference between a tiger and a leopard. And she can’t spell leopard, either. Or elephant, actually.”

Magistrate: “You know, a guilty plea would get her out of my court quicker.”

Paris: “That’s hot.”

(So now you know what REALLY went down that one night in PE.)

(Oh, and just so that you don’t think I’m being completely ficticious, there is actually a town called Parys in South Africa. Just check out the map. It’s circled.)

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One thought on “Is that Paris, smoking a joint?!?!

  1. I always did enjoy the irony of a town Sasolburg named after an oil company. We need an Exxonville here in the US. or even a BPville in Louisianna.
    I see even our pop culture invades your lives as well. good parody Matthew.
    Randall

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