Dear Marc Jacobs,
today you should hire me because my life is shit in london. i’ve made a list of good luck/bad luck that i’ve had since leaving the states. here it is:
good luck: survived the plane ride
bad luck: had to sit behind some fucking cunt kids who were moving around the entire time and whose mother did NOTHING to stop them from spilling their food everywhere and screaming, and whose father obviously just gave up on ever loving his family or himself because he just slept the whole time and sometimes would just shake his head and go back to watching kung fu panda, or whatever movie was playing.
good luck: have taken a portuguese lover named michel.
bad luck: i pissed him off at nottinghill carnival because i was obnoxious and talked to some old women about pole dancing on the tube? whatever, kid.
good luck: david and i are getting along swimmingly.
good luck: found a friend/flatmate named maggie (for margaret) who is a GEM. you’d love her. she’s got tig ol’ bitties and is SASSY like your drunk grandmother.
good luck: got an interview.
bad luck: interview got canceled THE SAME DAY IT WAS SCHEDULED. they found ‘a girl who is just perfect, so sorry.’ i hope she dies.
good luck: found a flat!
bad luck: i have no job so i can’t afford the flat and i’m CERTAIN that mags and david will get tired of telling me rent is due while i cry in the bathroom. i mean “water closet.”
good luck: found skinny cigs called VOGUE.
bad luck: they make me want to not give up smoking.
bad luck: running of out fashionable things to wear.
bad luck: GOT SHIT ON BY A BIRD. i was walking out of pret and opening my bag to put my sandwich in it when FWOOP, warmth on my hand and confusion as i think ‘this sandwich is supposed to be cold. WHAT THE FUCK’ shit shit shit everywhere. i was a walking public toilet with less cash in its pocket. because you know you have to pay for those sort of things here.
bad luck: my shoes are old and obvious.
bad luck: i over-paid for my phone.
bad luck: i’m constipated. and when i’m not constipated i’m clogging the toilet at the most inopportune times (see: clubs, gigs, etc.)
i guess that’s it. so come on, marc, THROW ME A BONE and ask me to model for an ad.