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Disclaimer: All the real names of places, people, and events have been altered
or abbreviated to protect the innocent. Namely, me.
HEY, PEOPLE!
NY Times birth announcement
I did their wedding announcement, and now it's only ... ahem, five
months later, and I'm doing the birth announcement. Here goes:
Yale Jemimah Doris Rose, daughter. Due in early June, the little
munchkin just couldn't wait. Instead, she decided to be born at Lenox Hill
Hospital on the Upper East Side of Manhattan at 2:17 p.m., April
20 yesterday. Total labor time: forty-five minutes. Weight: eight pounds, nine
ounces. Height: nineteen inches. If she'd waited any longer, she'd have been a
Big Mac instead of just a Whopper Jr. The glowing parents are Eleanor
Wheaton Waldorf Rose, society hostess, and Cyrus Solomon Rose, real
estate developer, of East Seventy-second Street. Siblings are Aaron Elihue
Rose, 17; Tyler Hugh Waldorf -/Rose, 12; and Blair Cornelia Waldorf, 17,
who is responsible for the baby's unusual first name. Blair is obviously hoping
her new baby sister will bring her luck at the university of the same
name heaven knows she could use some. Mother and child are doing fine,
and the happy family will be returning to their penthouse tomorrow afternoon.
Your e-mail
Dear GG,
Last night I found my older brother reading my Treat magazine in
bed. I got it back from him, but he showed me the page he was all into.
It's this girl in my class at Constance in a jog bra that's way too small for
her standing there with all these other models, like in boob-size order. My
brother asked if he could rip it out and put it in his locker. I told him no,
but I think he's going to buy the magazine and do it anyway. If I was that
girl, I'd die
phoenix
Dear phoenix,
Let's hope for your classmate's sake that your brother doesn't
have a lot of friends.
GG
Sightings
A whole group of Constance Billard seniors in the Wicker Garden
on Madison Avenue, cooing over baby gifts. Any excuse to shop. J and E
accidentally getting on the same crosstown bus and ignoring each other the
whole ride. Still mad, huh? V getting purple highlights at a Williamsburg hair
salon. Wait, how can she get highlights when she has no hair?! N creeping out
of the St. Jude's School for Boys after even the janitor had left. Boy, is he
paranoid. B in Zitomer on Madison buying diapers and a
three-hundred-dollar cashmere baby romper. Guess who's going to be that
little girl's favorite big sister? S walking through the park, giving flowers away
to the homeless. It's the thought that counts.
I'm off to the local newsstand to check out that mag!
You know you love me,
gossip girl
size matters
Dan walked into first-period English on Tuesday to find every guy in his class poring over some
teen girl magazine.
"What people don't realize is they look even bigger in per-son," Chuck Bass, Dan's least favorite
person at Riverside Prep and perhaps the world, observed from his usual place in the back of the
classroom. Chuck was wearing the army green military-style beret he'd picked up at West Point that
weekend. It was his favorite new accessory besides his pet snow monkey, which he carried with him
everywhere, even to .the bathroom. Chuck looked up. "Am I right?"
Dan had the uneasy feeling that Chuck was talking to him. "It's like they're full of helium or
something," another boy added, leaning over Chuck's desk to see.
Chuck shook his head. His dark hair had grown into a sort of chin-length man-bob that he
swished around with obvious pride. "Dude, if they were full of helium, she'd fucking float away." He
squinted down at the magazine again, his gold monogrammed pinky ring glowing beneath the harsh
class-room lights. Then he looked up at Dan again. "Dude, she's your sister. What's her fucking deal?"
Dan's instinct was to tell Chuck to go fuck himself, but since it involved his little sister, Jenny, who
often blundered into all kinds of trouble, he felt he ought to check it out for himself. He sat down on the
desk in front of Chuck's and put in loot up on the chair. On the floor, something wriggled inside Chuck's
orange Prada messenger bag. Suddenly a white head with eyes like golden marbles popped out. It was
Chuck's monkey, grinning devilishly.
Han glared at Chuck. "What about my sister?"
Chuck smirked and handed over the magazine. "Don't tell me you don't know about this."
The magazine was open to a two-page spread entitled "Does Breast Size Matter?" The article
was an earnest discussion of girls' social status based on breast size. Apparently if you were flat-chested
or supersized, you were more likely to be ostracized. II you were buxom but not hideously so, you were
a slut. Popular girls tended to have nice, medium-sized 34Bs. Dan studied the picture. Jenny and five
other girls wearing matching blue jog bras and Lycra shorts were lined up in breast-size tinier, biggest to
smallest, in front of a volleyball net. The other girls were all models blond, with cheesily perfect smiles,
flat tummies, and golden tans. The girl next to Jenny definitely had implants, but her chest still wasn't as
big as Jenny's one hundred percent naturals. Jenny's chest looked abnormal and almost freakish, stuffed
inside a jog bra that was way too small. Worse still, she was sticking out her tongue and her big brown
eyes were shining, like she was having the time of her life.
"Christ," Dan muttered, and tossed the magazine back on Chuck's desk, his hands beginning to
sweat and shake as I hey always did when he needed a cigarette. He knew the article was intended to
empower girls with big chests. There was Jenny, looking freakish but proud of it. But that wouldn't stop
every guy who saw the picture from ripping it out and writing some lewd comment underneath it before
pasting it on the door of a bathroom stall.
"Says here eight out often guys prefer a gorgeous girl with average-size breasts over an average
girl with supersize tits," Chuck elaborated.
Thanks, Captain Asshole, sir.
It was pretty obvious to Dan that his sister was so eager to be a model, she hadn't thought about
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