Hey there, Upper East Siders. Long time, no gossip.
I bet you’re wondering where I disappeared to, but that’s for me (and the hearts I broke) to know, and for you to never find out. Sure, it’s been awhile, but hey, a girl needs her beauty rest. I thought the retired life was for me, but let’s be real: what’s a gossip girl without her gossip? Too much “me” time and not enough “destroying other people’s lives” time. But don’t worry, I’ve had my eyes peeled and my Facebook refreshed to find dirt on our favorite Upper East Siders, and trust me, they’re just as dirty as ever.
So what happened that was huge enough to take me out retirement? Again. No it’s not Lily and Rufus this time, and I am so over Lonely Boy’s tired ways. This is about S, because isn’t it always? That girl can’t help but attract attention.
Last time we saw S, she was about to pop with her man candy’s offspring. Of course she managed to have the little pest and look flawless right after. What else would you expect from a Van Der Woodsen? But in addition to blood and a baby, her claws came out too. First when she made her old “Traveling Pants” best friends the “fairy godmothers” of her baby. Which is fine. I heard motherhood causes wrinkles anyway.
But then Allure decided to interview our least favorite “it” girl. Nothing new for S; she’s used to people fawning over her. It turns out, however, that she told the world she isn’t too fond of me. Classic S. Some blondes never change.
But don’t take my word for it. Take hers. Come on S, you knew I’d find the evidence eventually, retired or not.
People loved it, but it always felt a little personally compromising — you want to be putting a better message out there. But it’s a weird thing when people feel like they know you really well, and they don’t. I would not be proud to be the person who gave someone the cocaine that made them overdose and then shot someone and slept with someone else’s boyfriend.
Poor little S. It’s okay if you if you’re not proud of me anymore. After you chose your happily ever after with Lonely Boy, I wasn’t exactly proud of you, either. But when you’re wiping baby goo off of your Louboutins, just remember who made you a star.
You know you love me,