Snow Queens

OMG, that’s gonna be us, girlies, in Aspen for New Year’s Eve! I’m all stocked up on cashmere drawstring pants for lounging by the fire and slim-fitting Merino sweaters for some sex appeal when keeping warm out on the town and stuff.

It’s not going to be the same without Paige around to count down with us to midnight, of course. But P, we’re thinking of you! Can’t wait until you’re back at school and back in the swing of things!

We’ll send postcards. In the meantime, hope you’re getting all clean and sober and happy and rehabbed. And stuff!

HAPPY (ALMOST) NEW YEAR!

location: the Bradbrary. I’m outta here just as soon as next period’s history final is DONE.

status: so over school, already. Am I right?

minutes until vacay starts: 73, and counting…

Ready, Set . . . SNOW!

What do you think, guys? Is it going to be a white Xmas?

I don’t care. Just as long as we get a little break from school. Srsly—finals much?

Of course, I’m going to miss all of my besties so so so totally. We’re going to text and ichat and KIT all day, every day! It’s a fact: I’m number one on Paige’s speed dial. Don’t be jealous. Her contacts list prolly goes up to at least twenty-five. You’ve just got to get yourself raised in the rankings. Tough, but not impossible.

But anyway, it wouldn’t be holidays if we weren’t all resolving to make ourselves all kinds of better and stuff in the coming year. Let’s do it—I’ll show you mind if you’ll show me yours.

The top three:

1. I’m totes going to cut back on double-mocha lattes this year, swearsies. I drink, like, five a day. All that caffeine is bad for the skin—dries you out. Just ask Cam Barrett (right? right).
2. I’m gonna do some extracurricular reading this year. A girl cannot live on Hawthorne and Salinger alone, after all. Lucky mag, here I come!
3. The whole mind/body thing is not to be neglected. It is so important to keep healthy and balanced. Who’s in for a day at Rescue Rittenhouse? Mads? Spencer? Call me!

location: snuggling in bed in my cashmere lounge set
status: resolved
mood: fa la la la la . . .

The Party's Over

Guys, ZOMG, I know everyone’s, like, FREAKING OUT and stuff about what happened to Paige. I am, too. We Must. Attempt. To. Chill.

(And ps: I know what the police found, but my jury is still out. She is SO innocent until proven guilty, ya know? Don’t these people watch Law & Order and whatever?)

I’ve got pix from the super-extra-scandalous end of the night. Check 'em out. And if you’ve got any new (gory, heinous, shockadelic) details, lemme know!



In the meantime, be cool. This whole thing is crazy messed, but we’ll figure it out. Spence, Paige—I’m here for you both. I’m all sensitive and whatever like that.

location: home again. the night ended kinda abruptly, after all.
status: jaw, meet floor.
mood: shockadelic, and stuff

Buns of Steel

Has anyone noticed that Ben Franklin has an awesome butt and stuff? 'Cause, like, I sure hadn’t, until now. He totes fills out those Bradford boxers way better than half the boys on the lacrosse team.

I’m sorry, but it’s true.

Maybe it’s time for some more squats, boys? I think C.J.’s dad has access to some HOTT trainers.

location: the Bradford lounge
latte tally: 2 since wake-up
soundtrack: Coldplay. Thanks, lounge DJ people! Love it!

A Thousand Words

That’s what they say a picture is worth, right? Good thing I took a bunch of the bash at Bar Fetish! Otherwise no one would ever believe how crazy things got down in A.C.

Seriously, though, the night started out super-fantastic and stuff, but totes flew out of control in no time.

The proof is in the pics. Behold:

BEFORE:

Aww. Besties forever!

AFTER:

Oops. Back off, beyotch!

Of course, there were, like, a few small stops along the way from Point A to Point Z.

It’s poss that Paige had a scootch too much to drink:

Thank God I was there to help her out! She was soooo grateful.

If you were wondering what exactly it was that gave her that hardcore second wind? In a word, this:

¿Cómo se dice SKANK WHORE?

So now, naturally, Paige is pizzed beyond belief at Regan, and no one has seen Spencer in hours. Supposedly she went back to Philly early and stuff?

Leave it to Malibu Bitchie to ruin the night for my BFFs.

This so isn’t over.

location: Bar Fetish
status: all furious and seethe-y and whatever
mood: like so totally torn up and stuff