Hello Lovies

I've been swamped with work and lots of Playytime so I haven't been around, but I'll be back soon....as long as I don't gamble all of my cash in Vegas. : )

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http://www.smashingtechnology.com/modeling/profile.asp?SmashBox_ProfileID=1249982

Claim to Fame

“You’re short, chubby, and you’re lips are too small, honey.”

He chuckled at me as he wagged his fingers and flailed about.

“Do you see this sign?”

He pointed to the four big letters hanging over his desk basking on walls of candy apple red.

“This place is a fashion Mecca. Stars are born here sweetie. You look nothing like a model. Give up, go home, you’ll never make it.”

I turned and walked back into the elevator and I slunk to the floor. An Asian woman on the 4^th floor got on with a Hermes bag. She bent down and looked at me. My eyes were puffy and teary. “You have a fresh face. Don’t listen to them.” She rustled through her Birkin and pulled out her agenda. She handed me a slip of paper with an address on it. “Go there tomorrow at 1.” As we got off the elevator I thanked her and we parted ways.

Every door in New York was shut on my face, but after a rendezvous with Vera Wang in an elevator I had a contract with Wilhelmina. There I was sitting in an overheated trailer with a Russian girl whose fleshless body sat and stared blankly at me while eating cold cream to make herself vomit and shit. The hair stylist leaned into me and whispered in my ear, “They all do it, get used to it.”

As quickly as I blinked my falsh eyelashes I was standing on a park bench in Central Park in the bitter cold wearing fluttering underwear. A fat girl eye fucked me while holding a light reflector and the camera saturated me with brilliance. I stood there in central park listening to the soft shutters of the camera. I was thinking of myself presenting my body without bodily reality, my face exaggerated by makeup and artificial feeling, suspended forever on an imaginary brink, eyes dimmed and looking at nothing.

Later that night I was sitting in a cramped club where a famous model sat drinking champagne adjacent from me. Photographers pitilessly filled her with their radiant needles until she was riddled with invisible holes and joyfully pouring radiance out each one. I learned that prettiness is a lot about pleasing people. Being pretty first and caring for yourself last. When you stop being pretty, you don’t have to do that anymore. I looked around feeling insecure about where I was and what I was doing. “I’m a model”. It came out shy and shining at the same time. People smiled and parted, and allowed me to enter the social grid. For a moment, I wasn’t a pathetic model; I was Dorothy finally entering the gates of the emerald city. It’s my show now.

I hate to name drop, but...

“Hi, I’m Josh and you’re…realllly hot.”

He managed to slur out from under his shaggy blonde hair and over the tunes spun out by DJ Junior Sanchez.

“So, I take it you’re a model?”

“You could say that, I prefer writer, but model will suffice.”

“Ohhh you write, you know itsss always good to know a writer. I would have never guessed.”

“Why, because I’m pretty?”

“No, because you’re tall and you look like you need a burger.”

I turned to walk away and was pushed back by everyone’s favorite socialite, Tinsley Mortimer and her gang of faggy little friends.

“Fag hag!”

Piss. She didn’t hear me, but Pete Wentz did and chuckled as our eyes met.

He didn’t stop to talk because he too was on his way up to the V.I.P.

As Shiny Toy Guns opened up with ‘Don’t Cry Out’ I made my way out of Box and made my way back to my limo for I had a flight to Miami to take.

Hatchet Face

Every girl does it to herself at one point or another, I’ll be the first to admit spying on the new boyfriend is such a terribly wonderful game. I just don’t understand why we do it.

We had been dating for 7 months, he was at work and I was alone in a new house that smelled of fresh paint and new carpet. I was bored. I went down to the basement and lurked. The only thing is, I was looking for specifics, old photo albums, penned promises on coupons, love letters-the dirt. There was nothing there worth of value. There were boxes full or junk from the people there before us and a box with ‘junk’ scrawled on the outside in his handwriting. I decided to have a look. There were school papers and a battered stuffed animal, and oh my…jackpot. A cd cover scrawled in rainbow crayons. At first I thought it must have been from a kid he might have babysat, until I read the vomit inducing list of songs and a love note from this mysterious elementary school kid. I decided to look for more.

I went up to the office where his computer was so I Nancy Drew-ed myself through it. No sooner had I hit ‘search’ than pictures came up resembling THIS. I became ill and e-mailed the pictures to my girlfriends and dialed up my best friend.

“I found some things I didn’t want to see, but I was looking for them. Is there something wrong with me?”

“No, every girl does. It’s common nature”

“Does this make me insecure because it’s making me feel like an insecure high school girl when in reality, I don’t give a shit”

“Hon.”

She paused. She always calls me ‘hon’ right before she has something moving and earth shattering to say.

“Hon, every girl does this, it’s not insecure at all. Now, send me the damn pics.”

“2 steps ahead of you.”

She clicked open her email and responded

“Corn fed, definitely corn fed.”

We laughed and laughed and she made more jokes, but it all made me wonder why they were still there. I asked and he apologized for hurting me and told me the story, which made it feel like nothing. It made me feel sorry for her. Our jokes about her $6 haircut and k-mart underwear made me feel guilty. She came from nothing and had nothing. I guess I take my blisterniks and my budoir stuffed to the gills with AP for granted. Until you get the story none of it is real. I guess that’s why we do it, to feel alive, to know other people have stories too. I can type my ‘past tenses’ in organized little paragraphs on how I am strong and how I always survive, but sometimes someone has to allow me to get drunk and sloppy and kick off my expensive shoes and tell it like it is. Life isn’t always tidy, neat, and beautiful, but living does something and sometimes mishaps do make you feel alive.

“Hatchetface.”

“Hello? Kate?”

“She looks like hachetface.”

Ok, so I don't feel that bad.

New Year!

Here are a few things you must know for 2007:

Since I write everything in Word and copy and paste it everything is all fucked up, but I make no effort in fixing it. So deal.

I just got back from the poconos and next weekend I will be flying to Miami to party at Playboy's superbowl bash!

I now officially weigh 110 lbs. Do not ask me for diet tips because I have no idea how I went from a size 2 to a 0.

Starting Tuesday, Jan 30th at 9:30pm you all better watch MTV! I am on the episode where Novak will beat up Bam and steal his bachelor party which is being thrown by FHM and hosted by me and 4 other girls including last year's Miss FHM! I'm not on it for long because Novak kept trying to make out with me and it was really annoying. Yes, everything is scripted, even our cheering.






That's all I can think of for now. I'll be back to writing shortly. X

Oh, Christmas Tree

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As I have gotten older I have begun to hate Christmas more and more with each passing year. It’s not that I don’t like holiday spirit or I’m a JAP, but Christmas just pales in comparison to the Christmas mornings I had as a child. Our tree had presents sticking out 4 feet away from it. My sister and I had the best presents out of all of our country club friends. We knew it was because we were the prettiest and sweetest girls and Santa just liked us more than everyone else. Later we learned that our parents couldn’t say no to us. But aside from presents and gourmet breakfasts at our country club, my most missed memory was when we decorated the tree.

I remember fighting with her on who could put the Irish angel on top of the tree. I miss my mother yelling whispers at us as we took the precious ornaments out of their boxes, “be careful!” Some ornaments went to the deeper branches, while others were reserved for the outermost branches. After we decorated our 8 foot family tree in our living room, we would watch my mother decorate a little tree of only white lights and Belleek ornaments which was kept in the formal living room. It was her Irish tree. I remember the year my sister and I were deemed old enough to each place one ornament on the tree. I felt like I was grown up. I felt so grown up that I began carrying a purse with me to our country club brunches.

As we got older, my mother added more trees to our home. First, it was a tree in our basement where all of “the children’s” ornaments were to be hung. Any hallmark ornament, happy meal toy, or school crafts were deemed unfit for the family room tree and were sent to the basement. Then my mother demanded a tall skinny tree to be decorated pink and Victorian to be placed in our front entry. To this day her pink tree stands in our front entry, it’s decorated in fine ornaments, chandelier bits, and pink ribbons. She usually would ask every few minutes “Does it look too pink?” Now, as I am older and I live on my own she calls me to complain about her tree and she feels she needs to add something to it.

Since I now live on my own I have my own tree. It’s wrapped in black and red plaid ribbon and I’ve hung shiny balls and chandelier pieces on it. This year, I added an ornament, a sterling silver “H” with red crystals embedded in it. I don’t know why I bothered putting up a tree since I will be in Colorado with my family for 8 days. I get the joys of listening to my mother constantly nag “Are you sure the tree doesn’t look too uptight?”

I’ll be away from the blog for a while. I’m going to be back in Denver for a bit. Not sure when due to the blizzard, but hopefully before Christmas! Tuesday night I will be at the Nuggets/Celtics game with my brother sporting my Sixers jersey. Basketball tickets are a tradition for one of my Christmas gifts from Billy. And if you're bored watch Oprah on the 27^th, my dear friend and favorite aesthetician is going to be on. I’ll be back on my birthday (the 29^th) to do some celebrating! Stay warm! X

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