if you ain't got no money take your broke ass home
Taxon, Taxon, Taxon. I've been watching you, and you know what I see? A place I'm needed. So here I am, ready to serve. After all, philanthropy is next godliness is next to your name in lights. You've all been sheltered until now, safe in your quiet indiscretions. But those days are over. Honesty is good for the soul, and gossip is good for... well, me. So welcome to the party, fellow citizens; hope you brought your own beer, because the only thing I'll be serving up is the truth you've been hiding.
But we can't have Christmas in August without a Christmas pageant, and you can't have a Christmas pageant without a dramatis personae. So let's meet ours, shall we?
Spotted, the always newsworthy C, handing out posies to a new friend. Or was it an old friend? The young Miss D certainly seems fresh of face and shiny of coat, but insiders claim she snuggled up to our favorite rake like she was born to it. Is this the second coming of G, or is C about to claim himself another trophy? We'll be watching and waiting to find out.
And true to form, that most famous despoiler of virgins didn't stop there; the Divine Miss C, party planner extraordinaire, also garnered a fair amount of attention. I'll be watching this one; without the Queen B in residence, it's only fair another bitchy brunette fill her custom Louboutins. And I do love my girls in couture. Do me a favor and stay on the radar, C? Because if not, hell hath no fury like a Gossip Girl scorned.
As for Bass, is it getting close to time for that little blue pill already? Or is it true what they say, and good girls make bad boys go respectable? For my sake, I hope not.
Speaking of new friends with familiar faces, word on the street is that the ever-so-starched R has been cutting loose lately. Looks like that hidden bottle of Scotch isn't the only vice he indulges in behind closed doors. Sex, drugs, and rock and roll are all well and good, Ripper, but next time, go for the Ferrari and trophy wife. The earring and leather thing is more desperate than desirable.
Unless of course you're F, rumor has it. Those two crazy kids were overheard arranging a tête-à-tête, Sunnydale style. Nothing says romance like watered down soda and bad lighting. Stay classy, lovebirds. Better watch yourself, B; if R is really a one woman man, you might want to start the audition process for a new one of your own. As for you, F, is it daddy issues and a night of geriatric passion or true love? The body shots with your pretty boy might lead a cynic to say poor R's put all his eggs in a basket with no bottom.
But don't fret about poor abandoned B. Something tells me JT's pretty face and rock hard abs are enough to distract her from losses incurred. Careful with that one, though; you never know where they've been before they're here. Wrap it before you tap it, B. Space syphilis is so three years ago.
Something tells me our next player wouldn't mind a tiny case of space syphilis if it came riding the back-- or other, less family friendly parts-- of a certain archaeologist-cum-linguist. Just like David Bowie said, it's time to turn and face the strange. Ch-ch-changes are happening all over, and you only need to ask V, to find out if they're all welcome. Our girl was last spotted crying on a curb like a contestant just bounced from Rock of Love. Your tour ends here, V, but don't worry: we hear the revolving door swings both ways. And if not, our newest arrivals just might need a roommate. A note to the new girls: you have to be newsworthy to make the news, sweethearts. Make a name for yourselves and you'll get a name. Until then? Keep rocking those adorable shoes and maybe I'll come around faster.
That's all we have for today, but tick-tock, Taxon. I get antsy without my daily fix, and the lines have been far too quiet for my liking. Let's tangle some wires and get the juices flowing. You know where to find me.
xoxo,
Gossip Girl
[ooc: IN CASE I FORGET THE SUBJECT LINE all replies from GG will be in text.]
But we can't have Christmas in August without a Christmas pageant, and you can't have a Christmas pageant without a dramatis personae. So let's meet ours, shall we?
Spotted, the always newsworthy C, handing out posies to a new friend. Or was it an old friend? The young Miss D certainly seems fresh of face and shiny of coat, but insiders claim she snuggled up to our favorite rake like she was born to it. Is this the second coming of G, or is C about to claim himself another trophy? We'll be watching and waiting to find out.
And true to form, that most famous despoiler of virgins didn't stop there; the Divine Miss C, party planner extraordinaire, also garnered a fair amount of attention. I'll be watching this one; without the Queen B in residence, it's only fair another bitchy brunette fill her custom Louboutins. And I do love my girls in couture. Do me a favor and stay on the radar, C? Because if not, hell hath no fury like a Gossip Girl scorned.
As for Bass, is it getting close to time for that little blue pill already? Or is it true what they say, and good girls make bad boys go respectable? For my sake, I hope not.
Speaking of new friends with familiar faces, word on the street is that the ever-so-starched R has been cutting loose lately. Looks like that hidden bottle of Scotch isn't the only vice he indulges in behind closed doors. Sex, drugs, and rock and roll are all well and good, Ripper, but next time, go for the Ferrari and trophy wife. The earring and leather thing is more desperate than desirable.
Unless of course you're F, rumor has it. Those two crazy kids were overheard arranging a tête-à-tête, Sunnydale style. Nothing says romance like watered down soda and bad lighting. Stay classy, lovebirds. Better watch yourself, B; if R is really a one woman man, you might want to start the audition process for a new one of your own. As for you, F, is it daddy issues and a night of geriatric passion or true love? The body shots with your pretty boy might lead a cynic to say poor R's put all his eggs in a basket with no bottom.
But don't fret about poor abandoned B. Something tells me JT's pretty face and rock hard abs are enough to distract her from losses incurred. Careful with that one, though; you never know where they've been before they're here. Wrap it before you tap it, B. Space syphilis is so three years ago.
Something tells me our next player wouldn't mind a tiny case of space syphilis if it came riding the back-- or other, less family friendly parts-- of a certain archaeologist-cum-linguist. Just like David Bowie said, it's time to turn and face the strange. Ch-ch-changes are happening all over, and you only need to ask V, to find out if they're all welcome. Our girl was last spotted crying on a curb like a contestant just bounced from Rock of Love. Your tour ends here, V, but don't worry: we hear the revolving door swings both ways. And if not, our newest arrivals just might need a roommate. A note to the new girls: you have to be newsworthy to make the news, sweethearts. Make a name for yourselves and you'll get a name. Until then? Keep rocking those adorable shoes and maybe I'll come around faster.
That's all we have for today, but tick-tock, Taxon. I get antsy without my daily fix, and the lines have been far too quiet for my liking. Let's tangle some wires and get the juices flowing. You know where to find me.
xoxo,
Gossip Girl
[ooc: IN CASE I FORGET THE SUBJECT LINE all replies from GG will be in text.]