If you have not seen the episode where Heather announces to Lacey’s dad that Lacey is only on the show because she sucked Bret Michaels’ cock and then calls Lacey a ‘dicksucker whorebag,’ you have not truly lived.
“B5 Media, the company that owns The Gloss as well as our sister sites Blisstree and Crushable, does not have a single male working in the New York office. We have between 10 and 14 women in here every day (depending on which interns are in). A lot of people like to think that a large group of women can’t work together and that cattiness and backstabbing will inevitably ensue, but that hasn’t been our experience in the least. We’re lucky enough to work in an informal, close-knit, open office. Most of us dress casually to the office – no sweatpants, but no suits. Because we spend most of our day looking at computer screens instead of meeting with clients or vendors, we only have to dress to impress each other.”—
“I kept looking for websites with “assistant support,” but all I found were aspiring executive sites for people who wanted to build their “personal brand.” But I didn’t give a fuck about my personal brand. I wanted to know what happens if a stapler gets thrown at my head.”—Kudos to Lemondrop for being the only interview so far where swearing was allowed.
In the first season of Felicity (and possibly all of them, but I never really watched beyond that), she had this friend from back home - who the audience never met - who Felicity kept in touch with. She did these long monologues into a tape that she supposedly mailed to the friend, and they were basically a way to keep the story going and get Felicity’s perspective on stuff. I think B. is that person for me. I write him long emails that I usually don’t send, and I think of him constantly on Rivington Street. It would be easy to say that I send or almost send these emails to B. because I still love him, but it’s more than that. I need someone on the other side of the country to be my conscience, apparently, someone who knows me and who knew me when I was a nothing little country mouse with a shabby coat and a notebook full of poems. He was the only person who called me to say he was sorry for my loss instead of to ask how much money I was going to get. And we’re both going to marry other people and go on with our lives as scheduled, and miss each other in the way that only people who used to love each other and don’t anymore still can.