CPJL: Our book would be titled SEXY GIRLS 'N HEELS DRINKING MARTINIS 'N SINGLE 'N A CITY 'N CRAP

YO.

Random House.

Yeah, you. I have sitemeter tracking our shit. Don't think I wouldn't call you out on this.

You were here quite a while, kitten.

It's summer, and I'm ready to scram from Cubicleville, where everyone wears double-knit poly and sensible bronze-y loafers. Random House, I am wearing khakis today. HELP, Random House. Help me help you. I'm ready for the big-time, baby. I'm an asteroid, hurtling toward earth. Lather me in silk and stick me in a fur-covered boudoir, Random House: I can be Jackie Collins. I can be anything you want. I will write new-school for you: in public on the internet; or I will write old-school if you wish: I will write charmingly, I will write wittily, I will write long-hand on yellow legal pads filched from my current job. I'm a born author.

Ring up and we can talk book deals, okay? I am willing to swallow pride and sell myself to the chick-lit devil, should you call... apparently lots of seemingly horrible internets cewebrities are doin' it these days. (HI STEPHANIE KLEIN OF NYC.)

I've been waiting to join in the unwashed authoring masses (read: bloggers) for the right amount of gold coins in a burlap bag.

Not a sermon, just a thought.

CPJL: Behind That Foster Smith.

As the oft-quoted LJG says: HOLY MARIAH. This brings back a little of the "what we once was" flava of CPJL, complete with ye olde internets references. Post that shit.

Foster Grants? Please. Foster SMITHS.

Foster Smiths are classics...perfect for those celebrating the lost artforms of classic clownulinity. Or, purrfect felineinity. The history of these sleek adornments is just plain cool. It is time to upgrade for the summertime, and get yourself a pair of these kitties.

"Who's THAT behind that Foster Ruff?"

Bozo wore one. These ruffs make everyone look good.

Not only cool in appearance, FS's have an authenticity about them that is undeniable. Coolness does not come from looks alone--but from your personal sense of style.

Have some style, and pick up a Foster Smith.

LJG did.


Shit, dog, is that SPRUCE JACQUARD????

i know, it's a total stretch. sigh. we're losing our touch. the only other option was referencing those awful twin asshats from the Style network who I wake up to every morning wanting to kick in the teeth and then run over with a garbage truck.