DIARY OF A DAY IN THE LIFE OF A SUPERMODEL DURING FASHION WEEK ON FIFTH AVENUE:
Monday September 15, 2003
Had some toast and eggs. Threw up. Had two cigarettes. Did a line of coke. Then got out of bed.
9:03 AM
I should never have to wake up before 11:30, like, ever. The fact that I'm sharing an elevator in my building with people who are going to work in an office absolutely repulses me. Suits and ties and "business slacks"....like ohmygod! Sickening. I mean, do people look in the mirror ever? Do they say to themselves, how will I scare the s*** out of my co-workers today? Jesus, lady, here's a quarter. Upgrade your wardrobe.
10:47 AM
Tell this Mexican woman to stop touching my face. I don't care if she says she's "applying make-up." She's doing it just too.... aggressively. This is eyeliner, not laser surgery.
12:30 PM
I just did a cat walk wearing God-know-what. I mean, there is not enough material here to even qualify this as a belt. This is more like a shoelace. A shoelace that has to cover my whole entire body. I'm beginning to think that designers are total pervs who are just too embarrassed to go out and actually buy porn magazines. And besides, who would actually wear this trash out? It's made of glitter!
1:22 PM
Just had some macaroni & cheese. Mom made me promise I would keep at least one meal down a day. So this will be it. I was thinking while I swallowed those enormous noodles that food is so weird because it's like so amazing to eat but so bad for your body sometimes. Like my daddy told me that his friend ate too much meat and had a heart attack. Does this make sense to you? So complex, our love/hate relationship with our bodies. Sort of like how we have that relationship with Siberia....or is it Liberia? Why do they make all the countries sound so alike....and why is Lucy Liu wandering backstage? I mean, she's cross-eyed!
2:01 PM
Ok. Ok. Ok. I'm about to walk out on the catwalk and I just mistakenly did an insane amount of coke. How does one mistakenly do coke, you may ask? I don't know. I'm in no capacity to respond to that right now. Things are moving very fast. Like my pen. Wow. My pen is like so writing right now. Look at it write. Hi, pen. I love you, pen. Let me kiss you, pen. Kiss. Kiss. Kiss.....what? Stop bothering me. All these people are asking me why I am kissing my pen. They must understand how much I love my pen. I want to marry my pen. Pen, will you be the father of my children....wait! I have to go now, I think. But what they don't understand is that I will go out on the catwalk but not without my pen. F*** Versace! If she doesn't want me walking with my pen, then I don't walk. MY PEN OR THE HIGHWAY!
Like, I thought....I'll be right back. Me and my pen have a crowd to impress.
3:55 PM
Waste and waist. Two words that sound the same but mean different things. English is like such a weird language.
I'm trying on a new dress right now for Kenneth Cole. God, I really hate him and his smug ads. Blah blah saving the world blah blah blah wear our clothes. Where and wear. HA! Two more words. This is the coolest day ever.
5:37 PM
I am finally finished with this stupid catwalks. People don't realize how hard it is doing what I'm doing. Back and forth looks so simple but it's not. You try it while cameras are flashing in your face. People are, like, looking at you. When you're sitting in your cubicle, no one's looking at you. It's just you and your computer and your internet. You don't have to smile or look hot. Oh right. You think this is natural, all this. Well...actually it is...but STILL! Being hot is hard. Getting hit on all the time. Always having places to go and people to go with. Having conversations all the time. What I would give to sit in a annoyingly-lit office environment where everyone is miserable and focused on what they have to do, where the hum of copy machines makes the soundtrack of your life. Where the coffee is made from a pouch and the fridge smells like milk after someone has vomited it in.....oh God, what am I thinking? Their life is so miserable. Thank God I'm hot.
8:33 PM
I'm having dinner at Otto's, this famous fancy Pizzeria on 8th and everyone is here. There's Demi (= slut) and Ashton. Maybe they could pretend more to enjoy each other's company. I DON'T BELIEVE YOUR ACT! LIARS! I need a cigarette. I'm going to smoke it indoors and if anyone tries to stop me I will press the butt onto their hand.
9:47 PM
This is probably my last entry tonight because I'm going to a party and I will drink tons and probably not know who I am. Or for that matter, be able to write. This is the only bright side of fashion week — that I spend a majority of it forgetting who I am. It's like being senile but not permanent and not being all wrinkly and old. Or peeing in my pants every so often. Although that did happen once but it wasn't on purpose.
And the first drink I have, will be to you, Diary. Because you are my best friend first, my confidant second and a book with a lot of empty pages third.
Love ya.
11:45 PM
WOOOOOO. I'M AN ASTRONAUT. I'M IN SPACE. WHOOOOOOOOO. HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA
HAHAHAHAH!
2:33 AM
Monday September 15, 2003
Had some toast and eggs. Threw up. Had two cigarettes. Did a line of coke. Then got out of bed.
9:03 AM
I should never have to wake up before 11:30, like, ever. The fact that I'm sharing an elevator in my building with people who are going to work in an office absolutely repulses me. Suits and ties and "business slacks"....like ohmygod! Sickening. I mean, do people look in the mirror ever? Do they say to themselves, how will I scare the s*** out of my co-workers today? Jesus, lady, here's a quarter. Upgrade your wardrobe.
10:47 AM
Tell this Mexican woman to stop touching my face. I don't care if she says she's "applying make-up." She's doing it just too.... aggressively. This is eyeliner, not laser surgery.
12:30 PM
I just did a cat walk wearing God-know-what. I mean, there is not enough material here to even qualify this as a belt. This is more like a shoelace. A shoelace that has to cover my whole entire body. I'm beginning to think that designers are total pervs who are just too embarrassed to go out and actually buy porn magazines. And besides, who would actually wear this trash out? It's made of glitter!
1:22 PM
Just had some macaroni & cheese. Mom made me promise I would keep at least one meal down a day. So this will be it. I was thinking while I swallowed those enormous noodles that food is so weird because it's like so amazing to eat but so bad for your body sometimes. Like my daddy told me that his friend ate too much meat and had a heart attack. Does this make sense to you? So complex, our love/hate relationship with our bodies. Sort of like how we have that relationship with Siberia....or is it Liberia? Why do they make all the countries sound so alike....and why is Lucy Liu wandering backstage? I mean, she's cross-eyed!
2:01 PM
Ok. Ok. Ok. I'm about to walk out on the catwalk and I just mistakenly did an insane amount of coke. How does one mistakenly do coke, you may ask? I don't know. I'm in no capacity to respond to that right now. Things are moving very fast. Like my pen. Wow. My pen is like so writing right now. Look at it write. Hi, pen. I love you, pen. Let me kiss you, pen. Kiss. Kiss. Kiss.....what? Stop bothering me. All these people are asking me why I am kissing my pen. They must understand how much I love my pen. I want to marry my pen. Pen, will you be the father of my children....wait! I have to go now, I think. But what they don't understand is that I will go out on the catwalk but not without my pen. F*** Versace! If she doesn't want me walking with my pen, then I don't walk. MY PEN OR THE HIGHWAY!
Like, I thought....I'll be right back. Me and my pen have a crowd to impress.
3:55 PM
Waste and waist. Two words that sound the same but mean different things. English is like such a weird language.
I'm trying on a new dress right now for Kenneth Cole. God, I really hate him and his smug ads. Blah blah saving the world blah blah blah wear our clothes. Where and wear. HA! Two more words. This is the coolest day ever.
5:37 PM
I am finally finished with this stupid catwalks. People don't realize how hard it is doing what I'm doing. Back and forth looks so simple but it's not. You try it while cameras are flashing in your face. People are, like, looking at you. When you're sitting in your cubicle, no one's looking at you. It's just you and your computer and your internet. You don't have to smile or look hot. Oh right. You think this is natural, all this. Well...actually it is...but STILL! Being hot is hard. Getting hit on all the time. Always having places to go and people to go with. Having conversations all the time. What I would give to sit in a annoyingly-lit office environment where everyone is miserable and focused on what they have to do, where the hum of copy machines makes the soundtrack of your life. Where the coffee is made from a pouch and the fridge smells like milk after someone has vomited it in.....oh God, what am I thinking? Their life is so miserable. Thank God I'm hot.
8:33 PM
I'm having dinner at Otto's, this famous fancy Pizzeria on 8th and everyone is here. There's Demi (= slut) and Ashton. Maybe they could pretend more to enjoy each other's company. I DON'T BELIEVE YOUR ACT! LIARS! I need a cigarette. I'm going to smoke it indoors and if anyone tries to stop me I will press the butt onto their hand.
9:47 PM
This is probably my last entry tonight because I'm going to a party and I will drink tons and probably not know who I am. Or for that matter, be able to write. This is the only bright side of fashion week — that I spend a majority of it forgetting who I am. It's like being senile but not permanent and not being all wrinkly and old. Or peeing in my pants every so often. Although that did happen once but it wasn't on purpose.
And the first drink I have, will be to you, Diary. Because you are my best friend first, my confidant second and a book with a lot of empty pages third.
Love ya.
11:45 PM
WOOOOOO. I'M AN ASTRONAUT. I'M IN SPACE. WHOOOOOOOOO. HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA
HAHAHAHAH!
2:33 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home