1.) Re: the following text message I received yesterday afternoon from Allison:
Please tell me No Post Mondays are not the new black. You're my Monday life support, Meg!
a.) Bless your heart, Allison! Bless it good.
b.) No, I promise they're not. And sorry about that. I didn't post last Monday because Co-Blogger Chris was in town being all handsome and distracting and I didn't post yesterday because I was having one of my emo episodes where I desperately need to lock myself in my apartment, snort a few lines of Pepto chewables and sleep for an absurd amount of time. But by mid-afternoon things got a whole helluva lot better, so now I'm back! Sorry I got all Morrissey on you. I'm here. My mom thinks I'm queer. Get used to it.
2.) Frankly, I forgot the other item of housekeeping...I saw Shutter Island tonight and things have been kind of touch-and-go since. I'm also currently watching a show called TRANSform Me on mute and I think it's about drag queens giving teenage girls with low self-esteem makeovers? I don't know. I care about it enough to note it's existence, but not enough to reach my hand out and pat around my bed to find the remote to un-mute it. Sorry. I've already been to the gym once today, a-thank you very much. (Lies. I've been laying in my bed feeling sorry for myself and we all know it.)
You may have noticed that I'm kind of just awkwardly typing my inner monologue at this point and not actually writing anything of substance. Well, Chris couldn't recap Kell On Earth tonight (last night, for you) because his TV is packed in a box somewhere en route to the district (HUZZAH!) and I was too busy getting the Ruffalo scared out of me to watch it or the repeat at 11, so now I need to stay up until the next repeat at 2am. And yes, I know there are easier ways to do this, but I don't know when they put the newest episode online and this sister can't afford DVR. I'm unemployed. Don't judge me or my cable package. So now my plan is to type my inner monologue to avoid falling asleep because I know myself and I know that once I'm out, I'm Out. With a capital O. Edward Norton could break in wearing tap shoes, no pants and a gift basket of Kashi Go-Lean and I'd still be out like a light.
So what can I talk about? Umm...I did my laundry today. It was really cathartic. I hadn't done it in a while. I bought a new brand of laundry detergent because it was $2 off at CVS with my bonus card and I'm thoroughly enjoying it's refreshing yet musky scent. Uhhh....I've been ravenously hungry recently and I'm breaking out, so I guess I'm going to get my period soon? That's exciting. I guess. Fertile Myrtle and all that. Ooo! It's 1am. Making progress. Just another hour to go. Real Housewives of New York City is on right now but I refuse to watch it because the rift between Jill and Bethenny affects me and my daily mood way more than anything not involving me or someone close to me should. I don't know why I give reality television this much power.
What else? OH! So my "everyday necklace" is starting to give me a rash, which I find completely irritating on two distinct levels: 1.) I like it and I don't want to take it off and 2.) It was expensive. I totally interpreted it's expensiveness as a sign that it doesn't have any nickel in it, but judging from the disguising and painfully itchy rash developing around my neck, I guess not. Nickel has to be the most inconvenient metal to be allergic to. That shit is everywhere. Like on the inside of every button on every pair of pants in America, for example. True story: I have to put clear nail polish on the back of the buttons in my pants or else I get a really painful rash on my stomach. It's either that or get hypo-allergenic pants, which is a level of nerdom I'm just not ready to explore. Yet. Ok, 1:30, doing well. Let's see, I've already shared that I'm broke, ovulating and allergic to common metals, how else can I convince you not to have sex with me? WOW. There's a bottle of skin astringent laying next to me in bed and for a hot second I thought it was a bottle of water and almost drank it. That would have been interesting to explain to the paramedics...
Um. Um. Um, what else? My face itches. Fucking allergies. I have to pee but I don't want to get up. I should probably stop typing and/or delete all of this later. GOD DAMNIT, I just reached for the astringent again. 'Ehhhh...I'm going to check Twitter. See what's happening in the world. Ok, according to Snooki, season 2 of Jersey Shore is going to be "crazy." Good to know. OMG! Someone retweeted something from Henry Holland!!!11o2i3rjo2i3jr. I didn't know Henry Holland was on Twitter?! I once tweeted that he's like, "a walking boner for my eyes." Had I known he was on Twitter I totally would have @-ed him and we'd obviously be in love and wearing matching neon mesh outfits in the English countryside right now! I think the reason I'm so into Henry Holland is because he kind of looks like Michael Showalter, except times gay:
Just a little theory I've been working on. 1:56am. AWESOME. That photo research really wasted time quite nicely. Cutrone AHOY!
This week we got a good look at the inner workings of Andrew M, and let me tell you something: Andrew M fascinates me like nobody has ever fascinated me before. (Well, except Al Corley, maybe.) Andrew M apparently comes from a lot of money and only has a job because there are 24 hours in a day and you can only spend so many of them polishing your solid gold shitter. This, for some reason, is shocking to me. I mean, I'm not trying to say that he's always seemed "down-to-earth" to me, as the boy repeatedly wears outfits that look like if ADIDAS track pants made love to Elvira's dungeon, but of all of Kelly's lackeys, I'd probably want to be trapped in a box for 29 hours with him the most. Skinner comes in a close second. Kelly's navy caftan third.
Andrew M lives in an apartment attached to his parent's place on 57th street and playa be ballin'. He has a gilded baroque Versace chair in his bedroom. I have a Jäger machine. His employers found it endearing when he ordered over $500 worth of printer paper because he didn't want to deal with the stresses of ordering office supplies again. I was shit-canned and threatened with legal action for writing a blog. He has a job just for funsies. I spent the better part of today emailing various craigslist adult gigs to Alex and asking if they're good ideas or not. What I'm trying to say is: jealous.
Personally, I relate more to old Andrew S. Poor, poor Andrew S. Robyn hates Andrew S' guts with a burning passion and he just can't figure out why. I'm apt to blame the lisp. Or the absurd tan. Or the Britney Spears lyrical tattoos. Or the fact that he's a pill popper who always looks like he's wearing a jar of high-gloss lip balm. Or because he can't quite seem to ever do his job correctly. My guess is as good as yours. The only thing we know for sure is that Robyn is a raging Cuntosaurus Rex whenever Andrew S is in a 4-food radius of her and I kind of feel badly for him.
BUT YOU KNOW WHO I DON'T FEEL BADLY FOR? Ava. I don't want to say I "hate" the daughter of my idol, because that seems so callous and uncalled for. Let's just say that I don't find it "adorable" when she clickity clacks away on the computer my grown-ass has been saving months for while she badmouths Wal-Mart and the fact that her grandmother shops there. Oh, I'M sorry, Ava Cutrone. We can't all have golden MacBooks thrown at us for graduating new-age hippie Kindergarten. Some of us have to work jobs to afford computers and then get fired from those jobs and are forced to dip into our laptop funds to survive, so it only makes sense to take advantage of every day rollback prices. Gawd. (Ok. I swear I'm done picking on 8-year-olds. For now...)
Where was I in this recap? Oh yes—
Robyn to Andrew S: "CUNT CUNT CUNT, WAH WAH WAH, HATES YA HATES YA HATES YA."
After a hard day berating Andrew S and his tan of many colors, Robyn, Emily and Kelly decide to take a stroll around the block to blow off some steam and meet interesting, fascinating people. One of these people is Lucien, a skateboarder slash bookmaker with a fancy European accent and a quasi Jheri Curl whom Robyn is all over like under-eye circles on Skinner. And good for her! Kelly thinks Lucien is the perfect guy for a power girl like Robyn because "he's just a cute guy who rolls up with you to events and looks good and just wants to fuckin' have fun." I'm pretty much in the market for that exact same thing myself. Except I'm not a power girl. And the events you'd be rolling up with me to wouldn't so much be "events" as dive bars and my couch. But, you know. Tomato, toe-mat-oh.
The next day Kelly takes Andrew M to a look book shoot for the Xenya line of affordable* dresses. (*Affordable = under $500. RECESSION LOL!) Here's the root problem with Andrew M: he doesn't really know what's up with his job half the time and he doesn't really care that much about figuring it out, but he'll never get in trouble for it because he's so god damn likable. Everybody likes him. Myself included! Even though he's kind of lazy and clueless. It's not fair. For example, he kind of half-asses the Xenya shoot, but every one's too busy being like, "HAHA! LOOK AT HIS ADORABLE GOTHIC STOCKINGS!" to notice or care. Kelly even takes him to meet noted milliner (that's a hat maker for you peasants) Stephen Jones and offers to buy him a one-of-a-kind black Price of Darkness crown...hat...thing because she thinks he's so cute. Do you think she'd do that for Skinner? Uh, hellz no. But you gotta give it to Andrew M; it's kind of genius. If only poor Andrew S would realize that all he has to do is stop listening to Britney Spears and start listening to Saviour Machine and he'd have Robyn in the palm of his hand before you can say Emily The Strange.
Alas, Andrew S never gets the memo and only makes things worse for himself when he wants to take time off right after Fashion Week to go to a wedding back in California. To be fair, Andrew asked for this time off back when he was just a little baby intern and didn't know that things are still really hectic right after Fashion Week, but he stands his ground to Kelly and tells her that even though the office is going to be crazy short-staffed without him, he's still going to LA. And ooof. Tenseleytown/AU. (Oh, wow. Really? A DC metro pun?) (It's 3am. Let's not talk about it.)
DVR Teaser: Children grow quickly and it's funny to watch them walk around in adult-sized shoes. Like dogs. The end.
Who's got platform wedges, an S&M beltlace and feels like throwing a wacky Adam's Family themed dinner party?? Andrew M, of course! But how ever will he find time to plan a dinner party and run Kelly's office? With the help of his assistant/mom, of course. Andrew basically calls his mom (whom he literally refers to as his "assistant") from work and asks her to throw together the dinner party kthnx! and she does. This should annoy me but mostly I'm just sad I didn't get an invite. GOD DAMN HE'S GOOD.
Andrew and Skinner then proceed to get in the world's most pointless fight when Skinner shows up late to his dinner party because she had to stay and finish the work he abandoned to get dressed and "call everyone up to see what they're bringing." OH, ANDREW! You little skamp, you! (Side note: I almost just drank the astringent again. I have officially moved it to my nightstand.)
Blah, blah, blah...Kelly tries to whore Robyn out to a waiter who likes big boobs, yadah, yadah, yadah, Skinner and Andrew S make up....BAM! Monday morning everyone comes into the office and—SHOCK!—Andrew S quit over the weekend and is moving back to California permanently. Poor little thing. Truth be told, I'm actually going to miss Andrew S. That's when Andy Cohen pops out my refrigerator and shouts "SURPRISE! WE'RE ONE STEP AHEAD OF YOU, SWEETHEART!" and there's a really funny black and white remember when... montage of Andrew S. hair spraying his hair, laying in a tanning bed, showing off his B. Spears tattoos, offering Skinner Ativan and cluelessly shaking a printer cartridge. God...if I could be in a Facebook relationship with Bravo TV, it would not be an open one.
Welp! Good night slash have a wonderful day at work!