Some Candy Talking-- (SPOOF!)
Dear Blahg,
After Gawker’s last chop, I started receiving all kinds of friendly e-mails from all over the place. There’s the most charming nurse in Ottawa, Canada, who wrote to tell me that I need to keep writing, so that she can live vicariously through my mini adventures in New York. I also heard from all kinds of kids in my position, who really feel my pain, and even chopped about it in their own blogs.
That’s when it hit me: I am meant to be a blogger! Screw publishing! All of those commentators crawling through the monitor, telling me how ungrateful I am and that I never should have studied literature to begin with, well you were all correct! I don’t need publishing, I don’t even need to work! I can just write in my blahg all day long and who cares if I don’t get paid for it?
After quitting my job yesterday afternoon, I feel like this huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders, you know? It’s like the world is finally laying itself out before my feet, the way it’s supposed to for a girl like me. When I told my parents I quit my job, they were a little pissed off at first. They were all, “What?! You better find a new job soon or you can kiss that trust fund goodbye, young lady.”
And I was like, “OK, fine! But I just need a couple of months off, to get my act together. Please?” And they agreed, only so long as I make good use of my time. We also decided that with all of their connections at Conde Nast, finding a new job will be a breeze.
So today, I went out with Kaavya Viswanathan, because she’s in town from Cambridge for the week, and we went shopping all day long! It was fun at first but that little intellectual kleptomaniac sure can be a bitch when she doesn’t get her way. She was all, “No, if we don’t go to the Louis Vuitton store right now, then I am going to freak out.”
This was a serious problem, because I wanted to see the new fall line at Marc Jacobs! So there we were, in the middle of Madison Avenue, just shouting at each other. We both had to have our way, you know?
So we went our separate ways. She went to the Louis Vuitton store and I went to Marc Jacobs. I bought the coolest gladiator sandals! And I was just in the middle of trying on a dress, when my RAZR starts ringing, guess who? It was Kaavya, crying all into my headpiece, sobbing about how sorry she is, how she hopes I’m not mad at her and, just to make it up to me, she bought me a Louis V., baguette bag. So I forgave her (even though I really wanted the new Coach tote) and we had a nice lunch together. Although that girl is so brainless, that she actually consumed carbs! We talked about all sorts of things but, mainly, just chick lit.
I was like, You know, Kaavya, if I ever get around to plagiarizing, I’m going for the real goods. I’m going to rip entire passages out of Faulkner's cannon and cut and paste the shit out of Shakespeare. And when I get caught, I’ll just say, “Oops! Is that Shakespeare? I thought that sounded familiar!”
And she gave me some tips about how to act for reporters and critics and she explained to me how no idea is really original and how authorship is such a western concept -- it's those western publishers who forced her to put her name on that book! Poor girl. Then we talked about boys and all that stuff and we had a very deep conversation about how Misshapes has gone straight down the tubes, with all these kids from the outer boroughs, whose jeans are bootleg at the bottom, instead of tapered, and how they have the audacity to use ‘summer’ as a noun instead of a verb.
After lunch, we were both kinda tired, because you know how exhausting shopping can be! So I went back to my two bedroom apartment, put my new shoes in the extra bedroom, that I use to store my shoes in, and took a nap for the rest of the afternoon. I’m so glad I don’t have any roommates; that would totally mess up my napping schedule!
And tonight, we’re going out for drinks with some of our other friends. Except I already told her that I cannot spend $500 on drinks this week because, after quitting my job, I really need to make an effort to be more responsible with my money, or my parents money, whateves.
Ok, I have to run now, dear blahg, because I need to get ready for tonight!
Yours Truly,
Toby
After Gawker’s last chop, I started receiving all kinds of friendly e-mails from all over the place. There’s the most charming nurse in Ottawa, Canada, who wrote to tell me that I need to keep writing, so that she can live vicariously through my mini adventures in New York. I also heard from all kinds of kids in my position, who really feel my pain, and even chopped about it in their own blogs.
That’s when it hit me: I am meant to be a blogger! Screw publishing! All of those commentators crawling through the monitor, telling me how ungrateful I am and that I never should have studied literature to begin with, well you were all correct! I don’t need publishing, I don’t even need to work! I can just write in my blahg all day long and who cares if I don’t get paid for it?
After quitting my job yesterday afternoon, I feel like this huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders, you know? It’s like the world is finally laying itself out before my feet, the way it’s supposed to for a girl like me. When I told my parents I quit my job, they were a little pissed off at first. They were all, “What?! You better find a new job soon or you can kiss that trust fund goodbye, young lady.”
And I was like, “OK, fine! But I just need a couple of months off, to get my act together. Please?” And they agreed, only so long as I make good use of my time. We also decided that with all of their connections at Conde Nast, finding a new job will be a breeze.
So today, I went out with Kaavya Viswanathan, because she’s in town from Cambridge for the week, and we went shopping all day long! It was fun at first but that little intellectual kleptomaniac sure can be a bitch when she doesn’t get her way. She was all, “No, if we don’t go to the Louis Vuitton store right now, then I am going to freak out.”
This was a serious problem, because I wanted to see the new fall line at Marc Jacobs! So there we were, in the middle of Madison Avenue, just shouting at each other. We both had to have our way, you know?
So we went our separate ways. She went to the Louis Vuitton store and I went to Marc Jacobs. I bought the coolest gladiator sandals! And I was just in the middle of trying on a dress, when my RAZR starts ringing, guess who? It was Kaavya, crying all into my headpiece, sobbing about how sorry she is, how she hopes I’m not mad at her and, just to make it up to me, she bought me a Louis V., baguette bag. So I forgave her (even though I really wanted the new Coach tote) and we had a nice lunch together. Although that girl is so brainless, that she actually consumed carbs! We talked about all sorts of things but, mainly, just chick lit.
I was like, You know, Kaavya, if I ever get around to plagiarizing, I’m going for the real goods. I’m going to rip entire passages out of Faulkner's cannon and cut and paste the shit out of Shakespeare. And when I get caught, I’ll just say, “Oops! Is that Shakespeare? I thought that sounded familiar!”
And she gave me some tips about how to act for reporters and critics and she explained to me how no idea is really original and how authorship is such a western concept -- it's those western publishers who forced her to put her name on that book! Poor girl. Then we talked about boys and all that stuff and we had a very deep conversation about how Misshapes has gone straight down the tubes, with all these kids from the outer boroughs, whose jeans are bootleg at the bottom, instead of tapered, and how they have the audacity to use ‘summer’ as a noun instead of a verb.
After lunch, we were both kinda tired, because you know how exhausting shopping can be! So I went back to my two bedroom apartment, put my new shoes in the extra bedroom, that I use to store my shoes in, and took a nap for the rest of the afternoon. I’m so glad I don’t have any roommates; that would totally mess up my napping schedule!
And tonight, we’re going out for drinks with some of our other friends. Except I already told her that I cannot spend $500 on drinks this week because, after quitting my job, I really need to make an effort to be more responsible with my money, or my parents money, whateves.
Ok, I have to run now, dear blahg, because I need to get ready for tonight!
Yours Truly,
Toby
posted by Toby Shuster at 1:18 PM
1 Comments:
Can I live in your fantasy world, too?
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