OK folks, I've really put my foot in it now. Not only did I leave the toilet seat up (gasp!!!), I also managed to leave the toilet seat up on the SELF-SAME DAY that Ilene very kindly washed my bath towel because it was, frankly, stinking like the colon of a dead wildebeest. And not a freshly dead wildebeest, if you catch my drift.
Anyway, feeling sheepish about my bathroom gaffe and already chastened for befouling the apartment with my towel, I've taken it upon myself to serve as Ilene's job interview fashion consultant. Turns out I'm ludicrously talented when it comes to telling Ilene what to wear to an interview so that she gets invited back for another one. I've said "No!" to the liquid eyeliner and nine-inch clear-plastic stripper heels but "Yes!" to the staid, conservative, but stylish pantsuit and midrise Mary Janes. I scolded her for the backless tube top and nipple stickies, but when she returned from her shopping trip to Club Monaco and BCBG Max Azria I was all smiles and kind words. Now, if I only knew why she keeps scheduling these interviews at four am in the Viagra Triangle and the hourly-rate motels in Uptown, I could really help her land the job of her dreams.
It's the least I can do, especially considering the colon left a big pink stain on the bathroom tile and is starting to slough its lining.
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Inquiring minds want to know: where is the webcam?? Yes, Serena and I are dying to see the happy couple in action. Actual footage please.
Also, please note that we are anxiously awaiting an entry from the Girl. Where is this so called Ilene? Does she not like this blog? We are begining to doubt the extistance of said girl. (Hint: The webcam would quickly squash our doubts.)
- Valerie and Serena.
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