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Date: Thu, 1 May 2008 07:51:46
From: [name deleted]
Subject: Thurdsday
To: [name deleted]
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Dear Shep Collidus,

I can't take this anymore. I am writing to tell you that if there is no packet in my P.O. Box this afternoon, I might do something dramatic. Do you think that people who fart on subways do it on purpose...as something "dramatic"? Because that's kind of along the lines of what I was thinking. How's your day?

Back to the Box for a mo'. I think I'll be checking it sometime around 2ish/3ish or something like that. Sound good? I'll call you on all the fancy numbers you have. We can either scream and/or cry together...

One of the things I love most about England is Percy Pig. See him there, to the left? He is adorable, and he is delicious. Percy Pig (and sometimes his gaggle of barnyard friends) can be found at Marks & Spencer, usually near the checkout line. Or queue. Percy is not only the cutest gummi critter ever created (who wants to eat a cola bottle?), he smells like Japanese erasers and tastes like a raspberry marshmallow, if that raspberry had just frolicked with a strawberry in a cranberry bog. I'm assuming he's a pig because he's made out of gelatin, and gelatin comes from, y'know, pigs. Specifically, from the collagen extracted from pork skins or bones. I know. I've been trying really hard to stay away from the stuff. Then, Percy comes squealing back into my life with that cute little mug and that sweet, sweet smell, and I just find him so hard to resist! He was a gift, too. Gifts should be enjoyed, right?

What you see above is the very last Percy. I put him in a plastic bag and locked him in a cupboard because I took down the rest of his pig brethren in a swift and total masticating massacre earlier this afternoon (I figured I should chew them instead of my fingernails during the Great David Blaine Breath Stunt on Oprah--see below). Sadly, now Percy's time has come. To honor his great sacrifice, I'm making a pact with myself to steer clear from gelatin-skin-n-bones products from here on out. I'm doing it for the love of Percy.

God speed, li'l fellow. Yum...that's a good pig.

Congratulations, Mr. Blaine. You did IT!

Dear David Blaine,

Gettin' excited about your appearance on "Oprah" today? It's gonna be crazy! Holding your breath for more than 16 minutes?! Wowzers. You're so tough. Really. I used to practice holding my breath in the bathtub all the time. It's totally hard. I saw that movie The Big Blue and decided to be a free diver and a marine biologist when I grew up. The bathtub became my Olympic pool training facility. I'd put my watch on the toilet, shove my Sea Babies and their flower sponge boats aside, and fully submerge myself as soon as the glove of the red Mickey hand hit the big number 12 on my Official Disneyland Timepiece. The key is to let little bubbles of air escape every 10 seconds or so. I'm sure you know this already. Anyway, my best time was 1 minute 58 seconds, and when I couldn't top that time, I knew that I probably didn't have a future in the world of free diving (or as the wife of Jean Marc Barr, mon amour). Luckily, I saw Young Guns II a few months later and decided that being an outlaw was much more suitable for my desert location...as was Balthazar Getty post-Lord of the Flies.

Anyway, good luck! So, um, when are you going to get back to the ol' abracadabra?

The new Tatty Devine collection is available, and I'm screamin' for these:

Why not pair them with Bjork's new 3-D video?

You know who I miss? Pippi Longstocking! She's my style icon of the week. "There's no one like her!"

"Please, please, please can I borrow your ticket? My girlfriend is stuck in STANDING ROOM. Ohmygod, you're a life saver!"

I was "Gabrielle" last night at the Alice Temperley show. I've been keeping it light this Fashion Week so I can swizzle my sticks in other cocktails, but being back in the ol' circus tent made me miss the soul sucking pandemonium of it all. There's something thrilling about ascending those concrete steps, flashing an embellished invitation, getting the nod, then being bombarded by girls in shaky heels brandishing the latest issue of The Daily.

When you get to the doors of the Bryant Park tents, you can already feel the energy pulsating on the other side. There's a two second check you do before going in. A quick sweep of the bangs, a secret tug on the skirt, one delicate smack of the lips. Once the door is opened, that's it. You're sucked into a twittering vortex of flashing bulbs, cacophonous chatter, swirls of colorful advertising, and a multitude of eyes all staring at you.

Happy 2008! I swear I'm going to get better at posting this year, so let's begin right now. You have to buy this. I'm a huge fan of The Magnetic Fields and have been eagerly anticipating a new release for several years now. All I can say is wowzas...this doesn't disappoint. Dripping in sardonic wit and whiplash lyrics, this is a soundtrack for solitary times. I listened to the whole thing twice yesterday while doing manual labor and then again during a cab ride across town. Dreamy, hysterical, lonely, boppy, exuberant, reluctant, bashing, delicious music. Here are the lyrics to my favorite track "California Girls" (very fitting for the nation's current fixation on all that is "happening" in The Hills of Hollywood. Isn't everyone sick of this Britney nonsense by now??):

see them on their big bright screen
tan and blonde and seventeen
eating nonfood keeps them lean
but they're young forever
if they must grow up
they marry dukes and earls
i hate california girls

i have planned my grand attacks
i will stand behind their backs
with my brand new battle axe
and when they taste my wrath
they will hear me say as the pavement whirls
i hate california girls

And since we're on the subject of California, please AMPTP, for the sake of my friends who are out of work and for the rest of us who are plagued with soul sucking reality television, please give the writers what they deserve. And please start giving young viewers more shows like Ugly Betty and less shows about girls who spend most of their time modeling, talking about nothing, and getting wasted at beach bonfires.

Just got back from Japan and boy am I tired! The jet lag is insane but so totally worth it. It was like living in the future over there. Like living in a dream world where everybody is polite and every toilet sings you a sweet melody. I can't wait to go back. Stories and pics soon...

Check out my recent interview with the lovely Philomena Keet, author of the Tokyo Look Book (awesome book, BUY IT) up on BizBash.

T minus 5 days until Trip Tokyo 2007!!!!