We were too busy watching Florence Henderson do production numbers that we missed last night's episode of Kell on Earth. Luckily fictional freelancer Betsey Morgenstern was the only person not fired by Kelly Cutrone last night. She has the scoop!

London Calling
by Betsey Morgenstern

Have you ever taken a helicopter to party? Well, then you are not Kelly Cutrone, the high-flying head of People's Revolution PR who rode the whirlybird from her Manhattan office to a party in the Hamptons for Alliterative Apparel. She was like Bianca Jagger riding into Studio 54 on a white horse, but instead of a horse, it was a giant metal conveyance and instead of lounging, she was working on her book with a ghostwriter—or is it ghost rider? Wasn't that a bad movie with Nicolas Cage? I don't even know anymore, because I've been hung over from the Alliterative Apparel party for, like, 3 weeks.

After Fashion Week, Kelly likes to throw a party with one of her clients so all the fashion journalists can relax, but what she is really doing is brainwashing them with alcohol and her products. She is so smart at her job, especially when she goes native and wears a feathered chieftain's hat. At this particular party, which was really more work than party, she brought the party girls to work at the party, but instead they just decided to party. That was great for me, because I have been nudging Big Stephanie to get herself fired for weeks now. This better teach her to keep her hands off of my Irish boyfriend Tim the Intern, even though he wore a bright yellow sweater this week with riveted holes in in that made him look like a tennis ball that was chewed up by Kelly's evil dog that was captured by the lesbians who live next door.

Big Stephanie was working the party with me and Elide (does not rhyme with snide), and we were having a great time trying to work our brainwash mojo on all the people from Women's Wear Daily, Harper's Bizarre, and FierceFabulousFashionistas.Blogspot.com, when I discover something in the pocket of the dress that I'm wearing. I haven't put it on since last summer and there it was, the rest of an eight-ball that I stole from Lindsay Lohan one night at Avenue. She got up to go to the bathroom and left it on the table, what was I supposed to do, let it go to waste? Next thing you know, me, BS, and Elide are doing lines off the top of the toilet in this Hamptons house. Boy, are we feeling it, there were drinks and boys, and then Elide called up some Hamptons friends—Skip, Trip, and Rip—and we drank and drank and finished the eight ball.

That's when Skip (or was it Trip? Rip?) was like "Let's call my friend Sugar Bear, because I need some more coke!" I wasn't about to stop him, especially because at that point, Stephanie was so hopped up that her eyes were even buggier than usual and she was just rambling on and on about how she works so hard for Kelly, more than any person should and her job is so hard and demanding and stressful. However, when pressed, she couldn't name one specific duty that she performed, but she is like so busy! Skip gets off the phone with Sugar Bear and says that we can get a free bag of blow, but we have to bring him some booze. All the liquor stores are closed, so we didn't know what to do. I told Trip that there was some champagne and beer back at the house where we were having the party.

We go back to the house and Rip breaks in and takes three bottles of champagne and two cases of beer and we head off to Sugar Bear's house, doing a little hippie flowy dance down the beach with our sandals in our hands and our skirts hiked up high. We get our bag of blow and we end up partying until 7am. I think I fucked Trip and Rip. Maybe it was Skip and Trip. Rip, Skip, and that guy Peter from Alliterative Apparel? Oh god, I don't remember. They were all wearing Top-Siders and shorts with lobsters on them, it's so hard to tell them apart.

Little did we know—and by we, I mean everyone but me—that there were security cameras in the house and the whole thing was captured on tape and then played for Page Six, who wrote an item about the theft. Kelly was not pleased, mostly because she was on vacation—even though it was work!—and wanted us to share some of the free coke. Elide tried to apologize and make it seem like it wasn't her fault because she didn't know those boys before that night, which is a lie. She tried to be all adult and take responsibility for it, but Emily and Robyn fired her ass, even though she has been bribing Kelly's daughter with Swedish fish for weeks.

That's one step away from getting Big Stephanie fired. Like everything having to do with Stephanie's incompetence, I just had to stand out of the way and watch her self-destruct. She actually called her mom and was like, "I try so hard, but I'm never good enough. Should I just quit, or should I just keep trying really hard and being smart and doing all the work but get fired anyway? You know, I'm too good for this job, even though they don't think I am. They don't see how intelligent and hardworking I am. It's not my fault that I can't get the interns to do everything and that they expect me to do, like, hard things. It's not fair."

Stephanie then did the strangest thing I ever saw in my life. It's kind of like when a man stages a bank robbery and takes all these people hostage so that the cops line up outside with their car doors open and their guns propped up in the windows and then the robber walks out shooting so that the cops will kill him. It's like suicide but with a really big scene. It was that, but in a tight yellow dress. She told Emily she knew she was going to be fired, so should she complete a list of things that had to be accomplished. They said no, and then they took her into a room to fire her. Mission accomplished bitches!

My next target is little Andrew. While Big Andrew is a long-haired lovely alterna-gay (a subset of the Art Fags), Little Andrew is a lispy twink who cries so hard that his bronzer runs and has unironic Britney Spears tattoos. He is also on the Jersey Shore's patented GTL Diet, except he's skipping the gym and the laundry and just tanning. That said, Big Andrew is my kind of gay. First of all he keeps his hands off my Tim, calling him too-vanilla (which is strange, because he tastes like free hotel soap and stale Cool Ranch Doritos). He also likes to talk on the phone with Stephanie and that other girl (the one who never speaks but giggles and pops her gum and annoys everyone) even though the three of them are alone in the office and there is no one around to hear them or see them slacking off.

Kelly, Robyn, and Emily take off to London so that Kelly can bone her babydaddy and they can hang out with Leigh Lezark because Misshapes is just way too hard to get into these days, so Kelly likes to do it across the pond instead. While they are gone, they left Big Andrew in charge of hiring a new girl. What?! Why are they hiring some new girl instead of giving me a job? I know my internship is just a sabotage mission, but I work long and hard for them, and they won't even interview me because my resume is only one page and not five like some over achieving girl who joined the accounting fraternity in college.

They trot in a bunch of pretty little girls and none of them have any experience. There was one who did have some PR knowledge and I was a bit threatened. She was sitting with Andrew a long time, so I knew it was going well. They were going to hire this bitch and I wasn't going to have it. She left her giant Mark Jacobs purse that she said she got in Chinatown on the desk. Oh, look. Her iPhone is right on the top of the bag. And she doesn't lock it, and she is still logged into Twitter. This is going to be easy.

"I'm going to my interview at People's Revolution right now. The office smells like farts," I type. Send! "I can't wait to be on this show. Bravo is already here." SEND! She comes out of the interview but I hold onto her phone. Andrew says that he can't wait to start working with her on Monday. Oh, don't be so sure Andrew.

"Yay, I got the job. Even though Kelly Cutrone is a fat troll, this is going to be fun." Send. "I'm totally a cast member now. Maybe I can convince Andrew that he doesn't really look like Anthony Kiedis." Send. "There was this girl named Betsey in the office. She had one spectacular ass. I swear I wanted to touch it." Send. "This is going to rule, you guys. I'm going to tweet about everything I do at People's Revolution." Send. I then chased her down the street and returned her phone. Not only did I fuck with her, but now she thinks I'm a good Samaritan too.

Stephanie, of course, found the Twitter account and she was fired 20 minutes later. No mention of any of this was made to Kelly, who never bothered to call us the whole time she was off in London. Finally, Big Andrew convinced Stephanie to stop eating cookies and doing work and go to Sanctuary T, the Official Break Time Coffee Spot of Kell on Earth. She put on lip gloss, so you know it was serious.

While she never called while away, we did get one terse email:

You bitches better be working. I came here for a "disco nap vacation" and to see Dilario, my impossibly gorgeous ex-boyfriend, and I'm still doing work. I just tried to attend the Henry Holland show and the next thing you know, I had to order some bitch out of the front row. Then I had to go back stage and pick lint off all of the lace dresses the models boobs were popping out of. See, I never get any rest. And what are you doing? You're probably stuffing your faces with cookies and running off to the deli. I don't pay you to eat, I pay you to make me rich. If you're not making me rich then you are fired when I get back. Actually, you're fired now. Go cry outside, because you're fired, fired, everyone is fired!

Can't wait to see you on Monday,

Smooches Abouches!