For real. Her emotive capabilities are limited to faces she probably makes whilst pooing. Hence, DUMPFACE. Let's start with the upper left and work around counterclockwise, hm?
1) omg i can't believe that much fecal matter came out of me. whats does fecal mean?
2)so thats where my cellphone was!
3)ew is that corn and blood?
4)mmmm gimme a spoon
I wanted to avoid droves of drunken mofos on this NYE, so I decided to punish myself in another way by watching the premiere episodes of The City. Some thoughts:
Whitney = twat. still boring, but more entertaining than LC. has manhands
Olivia = cunt
Erin = idiot. still not really sure who she is
Jay = douchebag. looks like if Adrian Grenier and Joe Jonas had a lovechild
Adam = douchenozzle. probably in love with Jay
Alex = toolbox. looks like if Pete Doherty got his grill worked on and stayed sober for a few days
Mostly, the girls appear to be sex robots whose creator forgot to program them. And Jay. . . seriously? When he first spoke, I thought he was deaf. Then maybe Australian, then confirmed Australian. Apparently "bob's your uncle" means "there you have it." I love when people with foreign accents imitate Americans. They always sound so cracker-ass-cracker-honky-whitebread-peckerwood.
Dear Olivia,
So I see you think very highly of yourself, being a "social" and everything. I just wanted to remind you that the only reason anyone knows who you are is that you auditioned to play the part of a Stepford Skank's frienemy on a nearly-scripted reality show. You're such a social, and you got your first pair of Manolo Blahniks at age 18? I'm calling shenanigans on you, bitch.
p.s. Stop trying to make "social" happen. It's NOT going to happen.
xoxo,
Schad
Diane von Fürstenberg's birthday was actually today. She's 62 but looks infinity years old. Quite undead. Methinks she feeds on the souls of babies.
I loved Olivia's reaction when Jay showed up at her dinner party. She was P-I-S-E-D. Pised?
I enjoyed Alex's confrontation with Jay at that club. It's a little difficult to appear intimidating in a loud club when you have to speak right into someone's ear, making it look like they're about to have an intense make-out sesh.
And Whitney: "I don't know who to trust." Really? What gives you that impression? The fact that these fame-hungry whores are paid to be your friends or was it all the producers and story editors whispering into everyone's ears?
In summation, Whitney Port can go eat a bowl of dicks. Bob's Your uncle.
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