Promise I'll be kind

( smile real wide )

( Rebecca )

( The Ring )

I think Diana's in love with me or something. I mean, ever since her girlfriend (who was a total freak, by the way, and probably had some weird spider fetish) broke up with her or whatever she's been totally weird, and like asking me all these personal questions about how my classes are going and what's going on with me and stuff. And it's like, I get that we're kind of friends or whatever, but get a life, right? It's just so- I don't even know.

And I'm pretty sure she's some kind of stalker or something. Sometimes she just knows stuff before I do, or knows things that are gonna happen before any reporters find out, or can figure out why I'm in a bad mood in the morning even though it's like, HELLO, so not your business and if I wanted to tell you, I would. It's not like I'm not totally grateful for the job and the spot in the apartment and stuff, but she doesn't have to be such a freak about it.

This is what I get for trying to be friends with a lesbian. I guess I'm just too nice.

I learned something new this week, loves. Who would have known that girlfriends don't like it when you accidentally text them instead of the guy you're, ah, meeting up with? Although really, I think she overreacted. We're just friends.

My Lydia seems to be a touch smarter meaner than I thought, though. She went ahead and got a restraining order, and I haven't even done anything.

My sister wants to find our real mom. She's such a loser, I can't even... Why would she want to track down the teenage skank who popped us out? Mom's always said we all came from the same chick, and that it was closed so we don't get to know who she is until we're... I don't remember, I think she said the records would unseal when I'm 25? I don't even know.

But it's so queer, she just calls me up today all "Hey we should find our mom" and it's like why the heck would you want to do that? She clearly didn't want us, there's absolutely no reason to push it. We have a mom. A pretty good one, even if she is totally embarrassing.

And like normally I'd just tell her whatever, to do what she wants, but she won't go looking unless I agree and like, I don't want to keep her from doing her thing. I have no frickin' idea what to do.

Ted Casablanca should be my new boyfriend. Someone remind me why I haven't dicked up (it's kinda like dressing up) and blinded his vice yet? Ugh. If he was any more loyal I'd have to make him my lapdog. But here he is, bringing me bones about who boned at Comic-Con. Not that I don't know exactly who it is, of course, but the secret's half the fun! Any takers?

( Arachne )

( Julianna )

( Envy )

It's building. The anger, the hatred, the- everything. I knew this would happen, it never bothered me but I've never had a girlfriend when it did. This is me. I am the headlines and the headlines are me, so of course but.

This is me now. No sense resisting.

The world is bright and beautiful, my lovelies. I had an excellent night with Joe working at the club, my intern is a better asset to the Star than most of the employees, and me and Arachne's three-month anniversary is coming up soon. Really, it must be Christmas in July, because the world gave me a *present. Why Mel, what's this? Your hopes, dreams, and the rest of your life? For me? You shouldn't have.

Really.

*Language, domestic violence trigger warning.

[Delivered to Arachne]
Two dozen roses will arrive at Idmon's on Tuesday morning, with a note signed only "D".

Monogamy is overrated weird. How the hell do mortals do it their entire lives? I mean, not that they actually do, but how do they even do it for enough years to think they can make it a lifetime?

( Phone call to Lydia )

The bitch here meaning Mel Gibson's career, that is. Really, Mel? "Pig in heat", the n bomb, and wishing gang rape on someone all in one breath?

Someone clearly missed me, baby. Sorry I haven't returned your calls, I'll make sure to be more attentive from now on. Maybe you'll even start being interesting again, hm? All we need is some blue face paint and a BAC higher than your shoe size to make this a party.

( Private to Arachne )

( Private to Rebecca )

Paparazzi is not a sentimental being. She sees little to no point in familial holidays, simply because she sees little to no point in family; the ties that bind serve better as a garrote.

Despite this (or perhaps in keeping), something arrives at the home of Russel Livius -- hand-delivered because there's no post on Sundays -- in the form of a tabloid reporter, bearing a camera, a sleazy smile, and little idea of what he's doing there. Upon prodding he will hand over a small box containing an evil eye and a ripped wedding photo of a recently separated celebrity couple. It's as much bragging about a recent accomplishment as it is a plea for approval- the macaroni picture seeking its spot of honor on Daddy's fridge. Included also is a postcard of a familiar piazza in Rome, with the message on the back saying simply, "Soon, Invidio."

There is nothing outward to indicate a connection between the delivery and the day, but the Sin is a clever creature.

Where the hell is my assistant? I told you you couldn't have her. Give her back.

Honestly, why do fading reality stars even try to stay relevant? Don't they know how boring they are the instant their show goes off the air or they stop throwing things and screaming on camera?

Snooki should do herself and her thrice-cursed abortion of a state a favor and stop trying. Calling out Robert Pattinson is really so incredibly sad, as if we honestly care what she thinks! Paleness can be attractive- okay, no it can't, but it's better than looking like a spray-tanned aging slut with more C-section scars than accomplished dreams (Donatella Versace, I'm looking at you!).

( Delivered to Envy )

They always come in threes, hah! Who knew it'd be an aging slut? Television, love, are you okay? I can be there for you if you need me.

[Sent to Divorce] (at the last addresses she had for Mona and Des respectively)
A copy of "An Inconvenient Truth" and a large bottle of wine.

All this talk of relationships and wanton trysts in hotel rooms has gotten me thinking...

The bed is extremely empty at the moment, as is my apartment. Or, if that tickles your fancy, my office. Clearly the solution is to lose the pants and parade around in front of cameras, am I right or am I right?

For the next week, all tabloids and celebrity bloggers seem to have a curious obsession with one subject: marriage. Baby bumps and drug problems have been seemingly forgotten in favor of speculating about this engagement or that marriage, with ring-close ups splashed everywhere. The story du jour, of course, is the engagement of Harvey Stonewall and Mark Harden- but the stories are all brief, talking about personal "where I was when I did the crossword" anecdotes, or surprisingly kind with minimally intrusive photos included.

That morning a note appears in Mark's mailbox attached to a ripped-out page from a tabloid saying merely, "Congrats. -P." The reprieve won't last long, but such is life.

What a day, what a day.

[Delivered to Hockey]
A care package lovingly filled with Nair, a belt, and a helpful disguise. Also included is some personal hygiene equipment, anti-heartbreak tools, and a note reading, "With luck, you'll find it in your heart to trust again. We're all here for you, you brave little soldier. ♥ -Diana"

Good evening, world! And what a fabulous evening it is. The sun's not shining, the birds are too busy eating cigarette butts from the gutters to sing, but there are stars in my eyes and a spring in my step- and I bet you're just dying to know why, aren't you?

Well. You wouldn't believe what came across my desk this morning- before it got anywhere else, of course! Just this morning a series of photos surfaced of a very pretty blond girl having... oh, I'd say just a little more than enough fun with none other than Hockey god star Stanley Wayne! The shocking part is the date- he apparently was taking off his clothes with blonds in hotel rooms last August, right in the middle of his brief relationship with musician Stephanie Thompson! Cheaters never prosper, pumpkin-pie.
( cut for length and pictures )

OOC: This was posted verbatim as today's update for a long-running celebrity news blog written by a mysterious author under the pen name Regina d'Paparazzo. Diana's reposting it here for giggles. The pics are, of course, all over the blogosphere by now.

That's enough, Jesse James. You're a cheating man-whore who gets hot for white supremacy. Nobody cares what you have to say, and you're certainly not important enough to be the most hated man in the world. Now keep talking into those microphones so we can parade you out in stocks and admire how pathetic you are. Do those little blue pills fill the void in your cholesterol-infested heart, dearest? I certainly hope so.

In all the sparkly-shiny bustle of New York, I'd forgotten how lovely my very own place is. Los Angeles moves differently. Better. But none of that can distract me from the recent earth-shattering blah blah blah- everyone's favorite druggie one-time lesbian. I swear, if Lindsay Lohan actually goes to jail, I don't know what I'd do with myself. I mean, there's only so many skanky Miley pics that can leak before it just gets boring.

Sigh. I'll make do somehow.

Television, lovey, how are you? Everyone's all abuzz about your big event this weekend, and I can't help but think it won't be easy on you and that's hilarious.

( Private to Media )

Oh lovely Olivia, my light, my darling- you really do know how to put a spring in my step. I'll be shouting these from the mountaintops, my love, and I might even have to give you a present. There has to be somebody who's weight has been too stable, my love, and I can hammer them until they crack- for you.

These billboards, these billboards, how deliciously odd and glorious. Whoever brought them about, they're masterpieces, I can assure you.

Mmm, old friends- there's some deliciously trite saying about silver and gold here, but I won't bore you all with it. But it was lovely seeing you, Olivia, we really must spend more time together. As much as possible, even!

So, world- did everyone have a very happy Hump Day?