September 18, 2006
New York Fugshion Week: Inner Monologues
JAIME KING: Remember when I used to date Kid Rock, and I was a clammy-looking kid who couldn't focus her eyes? Man, I have totally turned it around.
ERIKA CHRISTENSEN: I am totally going to smack this Rossum kid next to me. Seriously, I can't even look at her, in her little poofy white thing and all that face paint. My OC-6 would audit the HELL out of her snooty ass.
EMMY ROSSUM: If I can just sit here and look as human as possible, nobody will notice that I'm plugged into an outlet underneath my chair.
ERIKA: That's right, White Wedding, you sit there in your sheath and fan your pancaked skin. Don't worry about anything. Certainly not THESE BABIES right here -- I'm SURE nobody is staring at how huge they look in this dress. Heh-heh. Drink it in, photogs. Like sands through my hourglass, so are the days of your lives. Praise Xenu for a supple chest, and not a case of the ice princess's raging Dutch Elm Disease. I've eaten nails less brittle.
JAIME: ... KID ROCK, people. We didn't even wash our hair. NOBODY thought I was going to bounce back from that.
EMMY: Thank God for these frumpy white dresses -- they keep my motherboard cool and nobody can see my wiring. Now, what is it that real girls do, again? Fan themselves? Ignore their own kind? Wait, was I supposed to change my facial expression at some point in the last six months? ... Shoot. I think I need a software upgrade.