bright light city

Filtered to Julian

Let's just do it, okay? Let's just...let's go have some cheesy Valentine's Day wedding in some Vegas chapel and can we, can we just be together forever this time?

I love you. And I don't want to waste another minute of not being with you 'cause I don't know how many minutes we have left. Things keep changing, people all around us are dying, and who even knows if any of this is really real? The only thing I know, the only real, true thing is what we have. We can't keep wasting it when there are other people who would give anything to have what we're letting slip away.

OMG, I have fangs!

I totally need to accessorize. I'm thinking leather pants, some spiky heels, layered chain necklaces. But I don't want to go to some poser place like Hot Topic, I need something more upscale... Like Bloomie's for the undead.

Also, can I get some tips for turning other people? My fiance is still all human and I'd kind of like for him not to be since now I'm not getting any younger and I don't want him to get all old on me or anything.

I don't think this is going to be good for my tour.

I guess I must have been on the Nice List this year as far as Santa goes which is kind of weird because, let's face it: I'm pretty used to being on the naughty list as far as any list goes. But, Julian finally put a ring on it. Tiffany's, naturally. Even though I liked mine better when I wrote "marry me" in the sand except that it got washed away by the tide and there's no washing this rock away, not unless you pry it off my cold, dead, body anyway. Congrats to all of my fellow brides-to-be!

And my best friend decided to buy me a store. Something I could convert into my own boutique, like the ones I have in New York, Paris, Milan, Los Angeles, and Tree Hill. A Vegas boutique was long overdue so props to P. Sawyer before thinking of it before I did. The only thing is that it's going to take a lot of work converting it to a worthy space for all my of designs to hang. And since money is no object here, I doubt it's much of an incentive so I guess really, I'm looking for volunteers. Anyone with experience in construction or deconstruction or able to do some heavy lifting. I'll also need people to work at the store--bitchy people only--and probably a few models for a big launch a few months down the road. Any takers?

( Filtered to Julian )

( Filtered to Peyton )

( Filtered to Andrea )

( Filtered to Jenny )

( Filtered to Alice )

Motherfucker.

Okay, so first? I was really confused. I thought one of my cokehead-slash-models had slipped me something to make me forget that I had paid them a half a mil each to basically run around acting like they're on the set of a Girls Gone Wild video in my latest, and not to mention supposedly unavailable, couture. Then, I realized there were no rolled up bills turned coke straws laying around and everything was in one piece. That's when I got pissed.

No, I take that back. After reading that stupid welcome message, then I got pissed. I have a clothing line that is falling apart because even after my own stupidity of hiring Rachel as my model, I still haven't learned how not to hire my friends to work for me, and we have this new designer for my men's line that my mother sprung on me without even asking my opinion. Throw in my boyfriend ditching me because my actress-turned-model-turned-failure-turned-scriptwriter-turned-homewrecker tried to kill herself and he needs to save her from her own self-pity, the fact that my best friend just up and ditched me to go travel the world with all her happily ever after, and...the fact that I can't have a baby just, everything, I'll admit it. I could use a break. And Vegas? Not so bad as far as breaks go.

But let's get one thing straight, I already have a black AmEx. I have since just after high school. And I like my old BlackBerry and wrist and/or barcode tattoos? So 2001. I pride myself on being ahead of the trends, not behind them.

So I'll take this little vacation, I'll get my sin on, but make no mistake, I am leaving. And then? I'm getting this stupid thing lasered off.

Now, where's the bar?

Waking up in Vegas with a tattoo might be alarming if I'd been drunk last night, but I know I wasn't. Plus, I'm pretty sure that waking up in a strange place after a night of drinking doesn't usually come with an credit card and a welcome letter.

This could actually be a good movie plot.