HEY BABY, let’s talk shop: this week we’re working in the costume shop, because halloween is only MOMENTS away and i’ve been obsessing over my costume for ages. OBVIOUSLY, i’m going as our favorite anorexic, coked-out fashionista/deceptively shrewd business woman, mary-kate olsen:
1. oversized flannel that barely covers my business: CHECK
2. MAJOR sunglasses: CHECK
3. black tights: OH YES CHECK
4. stringy, kind-of-strawberry-blonde-kind-of-just-filthy hair: CHECKKKKK
minor details i’m still waiting on…
1. fresh pack of marlboro reds (mk smokes reds, ashley smokes parliaments. YES I’M A STALKER)
2. florescent red lips
3. venti starbucks cup filled with black coffee (for the purposes of my night, i’ll probably just fill it with vodka)
4. giant, baby-stealing purse
you’d think i’d be super excited about my costume and planning all the wacky adventures i could have in it, but i was putting all the pieces together in my head today and i’m kind of worried that i’ll look less mary-kate, and more buffalo bill from the silence of the lambs:
clearly, there’s a fine line between the two ON A GOOD DAY, so god only knows which way i’ll fall when i’m all made up and completely polluted at a bar. pray for me marc. baby needs your prayers.
i just tried on the mk costume and… i kind of look like elaine stritch and kurt cobain’s weird, copycat friend who can’t really find his own style so he’s trying theirs at the same time. obviously there’s nothing WRONG with that but… wait. let’s do the math:
MARY-KATE. MATH WINS AGAIN. stay in school.
if i have to look at one more faux angora sweater and get told to “upstock those graphic thermals,” i’m going to kill myself and then vomit.
I HATE OTHER JOB, MARC.
i recently accepted a position in retail. i’m not going to tell you what store it is (i’m just calling ‘the place,’ and ‘other job’), but just know that i gave up wearing the store’s clothes when i stopped eating 3,000 calories a day and could fit into sassier pieces (and nothing in this store could be considered a ‘piece’). anyway, the job sucks. it’s merchandising, but it’s completely mindless and tedious and blaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. and the PEOPLE even suck, marc. you know i’ll take any job where the people might be halfway wacky just so i can tell people stories about how RIDICULOUS everyone is. these people are just giant glasses of skim milk, stumbling around, spilling their white supremacy all over the place (no, not in the fun way). except for one girl, who doesn’t speak but it always making weird grunty noises when someone says something stupid. and there’s a token black chick who is so afrocentric but in the most superficial of ways. she talks like a white chick but says things (and i’m paraphrasing) like, “i’m black. i like black things. february is black history month. i like february. i’m black.”
(yes, she’s mariah carey.)
anyway, i’m hoping this is only a temporary matter, only until i can get enough money to book it the hell out of here. or you could deus ex machina my ass and JUST COME GET ME YOU BASTARD TEASE. don’t feel too bad though, i’m working at the earth house still, which is my only source of mental stimulation. now THOSE are some interesting people.
(look how fun i look, even when getting blind-sided by a secret photog.)
come get me marc. mama’s waiting.
quitting smoking is ROUGH AND RISKY BUSINESS. i’ve done pretty well, though. i bought a pack of smokes on monday and it’s lasted me until today. that’s WITH sharing with friends/homeless moochers. i think that’s impressive, because normally i would have been done with those sin sticks after 2 days.
the REAL issue is this: do i even WANT to quit smoking anymore? i mean, YES i’m trying to avoid looking like a rough lohan, but look at her when she’s not being photographed ferociously close and with bad lighting:
look at her, hanging out on that couch with some guy she doesn’t know, probably thinking, “YEAH i’m gonna trick him into pounding this used cooze ALL NIGHT. hey baby, got a light?” she’s having so much fun! sinnin’ is so fun. and she looks cool and casual and all those C-words that everyone LONGS to be called (yes, even a bit cunty).
if i give up smoking, will i have any fun? AND WON’T I GET FAT? i mean, look at jessica simpson:
bitch probably didn’t smoke a DAY in her pure, poorly educated life. now she’s JUST as washed up and rough-looking as lohan, but she’s painting on her clothes because she refuses to be seen at lane bryant. at least lohan’s bone thin and casually careless with her appearance. poor jimpson’s just…well, the fact that the name “jimpson” fits her is enough of an insult.
I JUST DON’T KNOW.
give me some guidance, marc.
i really want to make fun of someone that we both know all too well, BUT I CAN’T, because according to this picture i just stole from perez,
lohan and i are NOT aging well, because we are both getting HEINOUS, deep-set forehead wrinkles despite the fact that we are mere 23-year-olds. that being said, i am positively, 100% giving up smoking today with the hope that my body will be able to heal itself and maybe i won’t go down the same twisted, gnarly road that lindz is stumbling down, with her skirt above her head and one boob flopping out.
my non-smoking mantra:
i am not lindsay lohan
i do not need this cig
i am not lindsay lohan
i do not need to age prematurely and die in 3 years so people will talk about me forever as someone cut down in his prime but god i’m glad i don’t have worry that i’ll be stuck standing next to him in a crowded elevator because he smelled like he just had afternoon sex with an ashtray
i am not lindsay lohan
and i know you live in paris and smoke in the louis vuitton studio because it’s cool and you can, but maybe you should quit with me. we can hold hands. and you’re not getting any younger, honey.
WISH ME LUCK.