celebrities: they’re just like matt!

dear marc,

if you ever doubted that i couldn’t handle a long and tedious photoshoot, i proved you wrong last night.  what started out as ‘let’s meet for drinks’ quickly turned into a shitstorm of huge shit flying around and shitting on shit.  scott and i got so wasted and were running around london until about 6AM.  OBVIOUSLY the paps were following us around, and i think US weekly was there and have already planned a two-page spread featuring us in their ‘celebrities: they’re just like us’ section.  here’s the preview they showed me today:
CELEBRITIES: they’re just like us.
they go on 9 hour benders
okay, i just looked at this draft 3 years after the fact, and i have no idea what i was talking about.  clearly i had a picture in mind for this, but i have no idea what it was or where it would be.  please note that “a shitstorm of huge shit flying around and shitting on shit” is my new favorite phrase (again).

plea # 6

dear marc,

i still don’t have a job and actually i’m downgrading my living arrangements to a hostel because girl this shit’s EXPENSIVE. i’m pretty sure it will be one in notting hill, which is good because it’s super cute and MUCH SAFER than this car-bomby, knife-stabby hell hole i’m in now. jesus i hate this place. i applied to be personal stylist at banana republic yesterday, so if you have any pull there you MIGHT want to use it, you bastard. oh, i hung out with a few famous people this weekend, mainly MY MODEL TWIN AND YOUR MUSE, cole mohr:

yeah, he was at soho revue bar. clearly i could perform just as well IF NOT BETTER than him in an ad. exhibits A & B:

fIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIerce. it’s like we’re LITERALLY the same person. except i have better legs.
i also got pushed in the face by that tranny slut jodie harsh’s bodyguard THREE TIMES. jodie, if you’re reading this, FUCK YOU. why do you even NEED a bodyguard? you’re not even that cute/famous. marc, tell jodie she can fuck herself for being an elitist cooze. here’s a lovely shot of me from punk, and just another reason you should put me in an ad. i would def fill out that dress better than cole:

clearly this photo says the following:
1. i will lift a total stranger’s dress to get the perfect shot of her sweaty lady briefs.
3. i work well with others while still keeping the focus on ME ME ME ME ME.
4. what i lack in physical beauty i make up for in stylish headwear.
okay well continue to wish me luck on my job hunt. I KNOW I KNOW, i never should have quit that other job BUT WHATEVER. it’s my life, marc. IT’S MY LIFE.
hire me.
oh PS. i saw cillian murphy in soho today. scott and i followed him for about 10 minutes until he caught wise and ran into a crowd on oxford street. that’s okay cillian, one day I’LL be running from YOU.
your future muse

Plea #5

dear marc…

i quit my job. I DON’T KNOW. i just couldn’t go back to that small office where i got made fun of for carrying my giant green man-purse. i couldn’t listen to mark mumble all day about things like hunting and hating obama? AND HE SMELLED, MARC. god jesus fuck did he smell AND he chewed with his mouth open. i felt like i was listening to a horse poop when he ate his egg sandwiches. also, i really just didn’t want to get out of bed today.
i guess i REALLY need you now. stop by when you’re doing rounds at fashion week.

you FOOL

dear marc,

today i was snatched up by another mark. yes, marc, i am employed. as a PA to mark williams-ellis at limehouse designs. mostly i go to flats he’s renting to people and clean them (burning calories!) and then make lots of copies at the office. but don’t worry, i only work 4 days a week so if you’re looking for a model on fridays… clear
ly i’m available. let’s look at some facts about my new boss at limehouse designs and see why i’m going to stick out this shitty, ‘can you make me some copies’ job:
*he’s so british that even when he’s calling me an idiot for not understanding how the gate works, i still smile.
*he has two cards sitting around the office. one from a ‘woman’ named edwina thanking him for a good saturday night, and another from leigh saying something about ‘i’ll still become naughty claire?’ the BEST part is that both cards have the same handwriting… which leads me to believe that these are his alter egos and/or he’s trying to boost his morale/impress me by trying to look popular.
*he has a file on my computer titled ‘tenant v-cards,’ which clearly means he only rents flats to sexually confused 20-somethings, seduces them with his leigh/edwina/naughty claire persona and proceeds to steal and document their innocence.
*he keeps a lot of pictures of himself around the office…like a stack of photos of him standing on a balcony?
*he kind of smells like a wet dog?
*i think he’s lusting after his cleaning lady. i looked over at him once he was just kind of staring at her with this dreamy, far off look in his eyes. i wonder if he ever comes up behind her while she’s wiping off a cabinet and smells her hair. i bet mark would do that.
OH. look at this hot photo of me with three trannies. i spent 40 pounds on that cardigan that i’m wearing and i think it just paid for itself:
omg i’m CREAMING. look at those shoulders. and that blank stare? models practice for years before they can get that on one try. you better call me soon marc, i hear vivienne westwood is trying to get to me…

Plea #4

dear marc,

today you should hire me because i’m still jobless and desperate and roaming the streets of london. the silver lining in all this is that i regularly attend FABULOUS parties (compliments of my new friends who work at some management thing and have connections out the assssssshole) and get photographed with/by random fabulous people being fabulously fabulous. fabulous. here’s one party pic:
okay, i know i look 43 in the face, but the body is karate and i look 6’3″. i also think i have several pictures on two websites where i’m holding a sign that says, ‘you should get paid to pout.’ MARC, i’m clearly wanted. put me in a fucking ad.
i’m going to visit janet tomorrow to get my hair cut. YES MARC, JANET. YOU can’t even get into her sassy clutches. be jealous.