Anyway, I bought Myrtle a dog and then broke her nose on purpose.
When I was in there I met this Midwestern dick who was going around asking everyone how they knew the host. Acting like he was soooo special because he got a personal invite to the party. Sor-ry the rest of us just showed up, you know? The invite SAID "bring everyone." Screw him.
I wanted to be like, "Uh, thanks for giving us an alibi so Tom doesn't know we're doin' it, Cuz, but your work is done. You can go now!" Oh my god, and then he actually had the nerve to act like it was strange when I cried for ten minutes about how fancy Jay's shirts were.
He finally, finally left after we, like, basically started doing it right in front of him. I felt bad, but come on. Learn to read the room, guy.
Honestly, if he keeps it up, I'm gonna have to fake my own death or something. Maybe I'll get Wilson to "shoot me" and leave me "floating in the pool." Bet that'd get this guy to stop calling me up all the time and telling me how great I am.
I mean, what kind of a nutjob stalker stands around in a backyard WATCHING me for an hour when I'm having my nightly stare-intensely-at-the-green-light-of-my-ex-girlfriend's-dock-and-think-about-how-I-lost-her time? Just seems a little creepy, is all. Someone needs to get a life.
And I was NOT being subtle. I had one of my boobs mostly out. I'm not sure if he saw it and just didn't care, or what. He just complimented me on my "little brown suntanned hands" and wandered off after Gatsby. I ended up making out with Klipspringer in a spare bedroom, which was gross. Seriously. That guy leaves his tennis shoes everywhere.
Anyway, I think Nick's definitely gay.