Wake up to a cosmopolitan breakfast, topped off with a mani-pedi and then off in my spanking new Lotus for a spot of shopping. As a money honey ( unlike the yoga divas and the party queens ) sure I have several LA nightclubs, a couple of penthouses and a country mansion to provide the moolah for my bling - not to mention my runway work - but why spend my own cash when I can rip it off a passing posse of battling biatches!
Seriously. A disastrous crime of fashion and it's time to declare war. Poor struggling recessionistas never saw my diamond-studded stiletto coming - right down their skinny backs. Once they see how fabulous I look in my Miu Miu, I'm sure they'll surrender by flinging their fake Fendis away in frustration anyway.
Nothing like some stolen credit cards to make my day.
So hard to choose between another Porsche convertible ( in pink? ) or some fab Kate Spade. Of course I'd better watch my step ever since I got tagged with a bounty - so killer fashionistas are out for me.
A tired personal assistant
Fortunately I'll have Henry, my gorgeous Brit personal assistant tagging along. Not only does he match my new Pucci perfectly, speak in six modern languages and order my chai latte, he also comes with some extra perks. Really. Burning calories? Why sweat terribly at a club when I can use his hot toyboy body as a jungle gym?
Unfortunately it all only happens in Facebook.
Damn.
Ooh wait. I think my stamina's up again. Time to throwdown with another posse of bitches.
5 comments:
The whole time I'm reading this, I was distracted by the guy in that picture! HAWT! @@
Loan me your PA.
The shocking part is that I invited you to this fashion war. LOLz!
Can't blame you. It's Takeshi after all, kenji!
He's much too busy servicing me, william!
And now you're quite as obsessed as well, alex! amazing.
P
It's a game on Facebook? Is it the fashion wars?
btw do i have u on facebook? can't remember if i added u.
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