i was waiting for the fun of fashion week to start and the true adrenalin to kick in, but yesterday when i opted for gossiping on the couch instead of lugging my ass down to a fashion party i was like, i am getting old. my phone rang at 6.45am, i answered, ready for some model booker to tell me all the girls i had confirmed would not be available...instead it was james, looking for little benny making me get out out my bed to look in the bunk room to make sure he was still alive.
as i saw that bed still neatly made up, and james wanted to blah on about how he pissed in benny's bag and tell me that he though i was really fun, i was like - god, let me please go back to sleep for that 10 more minutes, prior to having to look at a zillion more models today and not snigger at the clothes i am witnessing these overpaid skinny wear and really try and rationalise the importance of freja as an essential to the william rast show.
hence it had started. a missing house member, and the discovery of a hilarious text message notifying me that there was a naked boy on our couch i had neglected to see as i searched for benny was another indication that the fun times had begun...
who was the naked man?
the other 2 sneakies that i lived with picked his pocket and giggled their way back to the bedroom...knowing exactly who this was. an email telling me all the fun i had missed out on by staying at home and finally my body kicking in to not wanting to sleep tonight makes me hum over and over again....
There's a brand new dance
But I don't know it's name
That people from bad homes
Do again and again
It's big and it's bland
Full tension and fear
They do it over there
But we don't do it here...
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