the worst.

Dear marc,
I’m sitting at a bus stop listening to a cover of ‘forever young’ and getting SENTIMENTAL. I had to leave the bar because I’m tired/old/drunk/hungry/OLD, which is the saddest thing I’ve ever admitted in public.

help a bitch, srsly. 

And of course the bus is 20 minutes late. I WANT TO EAT THE CHOCOLATE MY MOM SENT ME. Happy easter, you cunt.

drunken plea/mardi gras/i’m SO SORRY

dear marc,

i’m so sorry that i’ve been the WORST pen pal (actually, YOU are the worst pen pal because you NEVER WRITE ME BACK. but who’s counting?), but i’ve been busy MOVING BACK INTO MY PARENTS’ HOUSE FOR TWO WEEKS BEFORE I MOVE TO SEATTLE, and going to mardi gras in st. louis, which, if you didn’t know, is the second largest mardi gras celebration IN THE WORLD.  don’t worry, i thought about you the entire time i was there.  everywhere i went i had people sign this petition:

i’m sorry, i lied; i totally MEANT to have people sign that petition but i was too busy drinking keg beer and screaming things like, ‘YOU’RE A FAGGOT,’ ‘that’s FAGGOTRONICS,’ and ‘WHO MADE YOU QUEEN OF THE PORT-O-POTTIES? NOT US, AND WE’RE FIFTY PERFECT OF THE VOTE.’ i’m such a stinker! oh, and i was wearing this little bit-o-memories the whole time:

cute!

anyway, i hope you’re doing well. i’m tits-deep in SHIT at my parents’ place because i don’t throw anything away? ever? HOARDER. report me, it’s fine.  i miss you!

xox

mary-kate-o-ween

dear marc,

halloween was a whirlwind. i haven’t found any pictures to back up my claims yet, so here are some haikus to give you a taste of what happened.
halloween:
the wig was too much
it started to frighten folks
so became hair belt
mary-kate’s flannel
proved too short to cover bits
i made lots of friends
only this group would
end up in a dance-sex pile
all bruised and blue-balled tomorrow
the next day…
serial killers
we found a mutual love
and will mimic them
katie loves football
matt and jordan watch lifetime
of course, conflict came

 

as soon as i find some pictures, i’ll elaborate.
xo

THANKS BE TO GOD

deeeeeeeeR MArc,

today i went to church and modeled and GOT drunk and got on some screens a few times and now i’m drunk and god sais, ‘let there be booze’ and i was like, ‘HHHHHEL YEAH’ and then girl came up to me and was like, will you take my picture?? i siad no because i wnated my picture taken and i did and
jewish? islam? gay? i think we can all agree that church is okay.
i have things to show you laterzzzzzzzzz POOP POOP SHADOOP in my cake fart.
SHIT WANKS!
lovels

sleep here

dear marc,

my life is getting PRETTY blah. i’m getting stuck in a rut. this isn’t the life that an up-and-coming marc jacobs model should have. the only really great moment i had this past week was getting HIGH OFF MY ASS on sunday after work. i was just wanderin’ around london with ana, baked like gold fish cracker. it was wonderful. until i had to get home… the tube ride was HORRIFYING and i thought that everyone around me was making out and judging me for not making out with someone. when i finally managed to get off the tube, i ran into a nearby grocery store for water/i just couldn’t walk home. i was terrified. i was just wandering around saying, ‘you’re never going to get home. never. never ever. how are you going to get homeYOU’RE NOT. you need to find a place to sleep if you can’t get home. where can you sleep? here. you’ll sleep in budgens. okay, salad is soft, sleep on the lettuce in the produce aisle. it’s cold there, too. you like to be cold when you sleep. this is fine. okay. okay lettuce.’ THANKFULLY david just happened to be in the grocery store and saved my ass. i managed to walk the 5 minutes it takes to get home only thanks to him. disaster averted. marc, i’ll be honest, if you were ever high and stuck in a grocery store i would probably just leave you there and we would later laugh about how you got arrested. i’m just a good friend like that. PRESS!!
xx

FREE PRESS. LIKE, TOTALLY

dear marc,

this has been a pretty low-key week. i partied it up with my fellow REISS employees for our supervisor’s sad departure from the great flagship store on barrett street. don’t worry, marc, i kept it all in my pants and my tummy. i managed to down a whole bottle of red wine and two pints of beck’s without vomming or ending up on aga’s couch. AND i even made it to work at 8 AM the next morning. are you so proud? it’s like i’m becoming a real person, or something. unless you don’t like hiring real people to be in your ads. if that’s the case, continue to consider me a mythical drunk vixen with nothing to give except a fierce pose and maybe a sassy remark. WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?
the real news of the week just kind of sprung up last night. david and i were re-kindling our friendship in a soho bar when i got uncomfortable with the way david was staring at some 12-year-old farmhand. i picked up the latest issue of OUT in the city magazine when i stumbled upon some party pics from the beloved trannyshack night at soho revue bar…
here’s the spread:
yes, i know all those trannies and even got kissed by justin bond on that very night. and YES, i realise this is a shitty photo, but baby can’t afford a scanner so…
okay, now let’s take a closer, burier look at this fine piece of photojournalism, because i think there’s something you might really want to see when considering who to put in any upcoming ads…
THERE. right there, under that pirate tranny hooker’s elbow and that seemingly straight guy’s beer bottle. do you see? IT’S ME. well, my left ear, anyway. i know you think i’m reaching, but any press is good press. this also proves that i am SO recognizable that not even a fat, one-eyed, man-bitch squeezed into a fishnet jumpsuit can upstage me or my ears.
WHAT MORE DO YOU NEED? clearly i can’t think of anything.
okay, if i don’t write you before next week, have a fab thanksgiving for me. is it weird that i feel kind of sad that i won’t be able to gorge on my mom’s delicious tofurkey and watch old episodes of the OC for 2 days? i’m sure i’ll get over it. it’s probably best anyway. remember, girl: a moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips.
stay pretty. i’m serious.
xx

poop poop bashoop

dear marc,

last week was a BIG one and my balls still hurt from it. i got to see the SS ’09 line at reiss and LET ME TELL YOU it’s a gem. i finally want to start wearing the clothes. too bad i’ll be gone by the time all the good shit comes out.
the real drama/splendor of the week comes from the event we had with GRAZIA magazine on wednesday. everything was great at around 745–people were coming in, having a few free cocktails and spending drunk dollars on okay-looking things. great. THEN at around 930, when all the customers had left, my co-workers and i discovered that there were about 30 bottles of unopened champaign just sitting around, waiting to be guzzled down. AND GUZZLE WE DID. after i drank my weight in champaign, i headed out for a smoke, but not before drinking from a random bottle of vodka…that’s where it gets blurry. things i remember doing/saying:
–‘let’s get the fuck outta here, motherfucks’
–moving to the bar down the street and falling a little bit
–‘oh my god, i love you guys so much’
–‘NO VALERIE, I DON’T WANT FUCKING MCDONALD’S. I’M PRETTY’
and then…NOTHING. the next day i woke up on my polish supervisor’s couch.
AGA(in a robe):Matt, darling, we is leaving in an hour.
ME(in my underwear):oooooooooooooooooooh my god
i thought i had sex with her for a minute. then i looked at my clothes from the night before and realised that aga just took pity on me because CLEARLY i was vomitting everywhere. and then i had to go to work, which was just awful. i was throwing up all day and randomly passing out on piles of clothes. i haven’t been that hung over since i got kicked out of kappa kappa gamma’s formal for throwing up on people. ug.
but really, it was all worth it. despite the fact that everyone keeps asking if i feel better and keeps giving advice like, ‘maybe you shouldn’t drink. ever’ i think i really bonded with my co-workers and made some flimsy friendships that should last until i leave london in february. and isn’t that what partying is really all about?
’till next time, darling.
xx

just a quickie

dear marc,

this is going to be a quickie update. imagine this update to be on par with that time you were horny at your friend’s party and banged some B+ bystander on the laundry machine, just to clear the pipes. that’s this update.
reiss is going well. this week i have 2 things that you should look forward to hearing about: first, my store is having an event with GRAZIA magazine, which means a lot of drunk kind-of-celebrities and me getting yelled at for being drunk when i’m supposed to be working.
also, i get to preview the spring/summer ’09 line in david reiss’ penthouse. when i get there, they MIGHT JUST SNATCH ME UP and ask to be apart of their ad campaign, so you better step it up, be a man, and call me. i don’t know HOW you’re going to resist any longer once you see these:
okay, i think these clearly demonstrate my ability to style a shoot, because that outfit is RAGIN’. i know i kind of look like a witch in the second one, but you can LITERALLY see the swivel in my hips in the first one. i don’t think yellow tail wine could find a better ad campaign. god knows i’m gonna be buying more.
okay, this update is a little longer than i expected. it’s like, now you’ve banged the B+ and they want your number and you’re all, ‘god shut up, i just want some cheese and crackers. or to bang again.’
awkwaaaaard.
xx

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
marc,
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).