August 23, 2007
"Hola! Hello! You all look so worried! Listen, thank you for all your concern, amigos, but my feet are FINE. I mean, perdon, can't a girl randomly decide to dig out a pantsuit she bought at The Limited in 1996, before she was famous? Huh? Can't I just feel like wearing something badly tailored just to remind me where I come from, and that I am real? Does there have to be a dark secret? I just forgot to get a pedicure! And maybe my shoes aren't polished! Or I have a blister! You don't know! But it has NOTHING to do with, say, Marc developing a foot fetish and gnawing them in the middle of the night and forcing me to hide them the next day because they are HIS and only HIS, and also, grande chunks of my heel are missing. HAHAHAHAHA, that's so SILLY, tontos! Now, if you'll excuse me, my bodyguard needs to carry me inside. Not because it hurts to walk on my stumps, no, not at all, but because these sunglasses cost me like $500, and it's worth it because looking like a giant insect is totally in right now, but if I trip on my hem and fall and break them, Marc is going to take my big toe... I mean, wallet. Leave me now. Besos!"