We were too busy attending a screening of Hot Tub Time Machine so we missed the latest episode of Kell on Earth. Luckily fictional freelancer Betsey Morgenstern was there with her flux capacitor to capture the action.
Baby on Bored
by Betsey Morgenstern
Frankly my internship at People's Revolution is starting to get a bit tedious. Now that Tim the Irish intern and I are consummating on the daily and I got my nemesis and rival Stephanie Voorhees fired, there is really little drama left in the office. Sure Robyn and Emily are crazy and demanding, but that's not anything you won't find in any office anywhere in New York. I really do love Kelly, and I have learned lots of life lessons from her—like how to rip the front of a biker T-shirt to make it cooler, how to fuck lithe Europeans and have them leave you alone afterward, how to shop for sex toys, and how to drive your employees crazy by showing up on their dates—but I feel like our time together is almost up. At this point, each time I show up into the office it's the same problems over and over again. And they aren't even fun, interesting, fucked-up problems, it's like no one can find a stapler and they all spend about 4 hours hunting around looking for one when there is an office supply store about 4 blocks away.
The big problem this week was like another missing stapler. Now that Big Stephanie fired herself, Little Stephanie is forced to do the work of two Stephanies. But she is only one Stephanie! Like Kelly says, she is bad delegater and takes on all the work for herself and doesn't trust anyone else to do it. That is a very wise strategy, because given the people in this office, they probably wouldn't be able to complete a third grader's math homework. How do you expect them to handle complex tasks that involve computers, technology, and effective communication.
Emily tries to talk to Stephanie to find out what her work schedule is like and she freaks out and starts crying and complaining about having too much work. Her reaction was an overblown bout of passive aggression that had nothing to do with the matter at hand but was a reaction to long-term abuse. It was like she was Norma Rae standing up on table with a sign that said "Wah!" over her head and bubblegum lip gloss-flavored tears streaming down her face. Emily tried to get her to sit down and talk, but Stephanie knew if she stayed, she'd be breaking the "If you cry, go outside" rule that is the staunch number one edict at People's Revolution.
After she was gone and bitching on the phone to Kelly, Emily went around the room asking all the interns if they were virgins. When she finally found one that was, she took her up to the mysterious fifth floor of the building. I had to know what was going on, so while they were in the elevator, I ran up the stairs. When I got up there, mildly panting, they were already on the floor and Emily was leading Silly Sally the virgin intern into a room with a pentagram painted on the floor and several black candles surrounding an altar. An upside down cross was place above the altar which was covered in black velvet and the samples from last year's Betsey Johnson collection.
"What is going on? Why did you bring me up here?" the intern asked, starting to get suspicious.
"I have something very important I need you to do," Emily said. "I need you to die!"
Emily slit her throat. She slit her throat! And as she laid the lifeless carcass down, she caught all the blood in a giant goblet. When it was full, she got down on her knees in front of the altar and started mumbling in a language that was like pig latin but every word ended in "um" or "us". Then she poured the blood all over her hair, coating it in a dark, tangled mess like she was Carrie exploding her way out of the prom. Then, suddenly a deep dark scream came up from under the floor and blasted her hair up into the air. When it was quiet and her hair settled down, all the blood was gone, and it was long, luscious, and layered. So that is how she keeps her hair so amazing! It's no wonder we can't keep any interns.
When Emily and her Satanic mane emerged from her dark lair, she went downstairs and worked everything out with Stephanie. Kelly missed the whole thing because she was buying dildos for a charity program she runs to make sure that needy women get the electronic loving they need. She and Big Andrew were talking about their plans to crash Little Andrew's date. Poor Little Andrew. Not only is he addicted to the Jersey Shore GLT diet, he also said that he hasn't slept in 4 months. I can't believe the meth I gave him back in June has lasted that long. I thought it would only get him through Gay Pride weekend, but it's lasted all the way through September. Talk about restraint!
Stephanie and I had to go work a party with Emily at a high-priced thrift store. Ina, the owner of Ina, is trying to hide the fact that she pillages Salvation Army dumpsters on the Upper East Side and takes out all the designer clothes and sells them for exorbitant prices in NoLIta. She is accomplishing this by getting a bunch of fashion editors together and getting them drunk on expensive tequila. As we were working, Intern Tim called and brouged, "Heeey, Betsa. You workin' atta partay wif alla alcohola? Bring me a bottle 'a booze. Every time I see ya, I feel the urge to get realla druuunk! That's the only way I can sleep wif ya."
Who am I to keep Tim from getting what he really wants, which is to bite into my ass like it is the apple from the tree of knowledge. I told Stephanie I would be right back and slipped off behind the bar and stole the last five bottles of booze. I want to make sure I can keep getting my Irish delight for months to come. With those stashed in the Prada bag I lifted from the rack and passed off as my own, I was ready for the rest of the night. The only problem is the party was running out of booze, which meant everyone would be sober enough to ask Ina questions about where she gets all her merchandise. That can not happen! They scrounged together all the booze they could find to ply everyone who was there, and Stephanie called for more tequila from the supplier. More, more tequila. Fountains of it, rivers of it! More!
Once everyone was completely drunk, all was right with the world. Kelly was at a photo shoot making very serious faces for the camera while her daughter giggled at her feet saying, "Mommy, you're right. You are completely not photogenetic at all!" Stephanie and Emily were hugging in front of the store. Stephanie was grinning that she made it through another high-stress day with only two Klonopins and Emily was running her hands through her hair, dark as evil and cold as a million needles. Big Andrew was flirting with a hot straight hipster with a mustache and little Andrew was in a stranger's apartment, celebrating a successful date by having sex with a random guy he met on Craigslist. They used organic lube. As for me, I was walking down the sidewalk toward the L train, my stolen bottles bumping in my purloined bag ready to go get my man drunk and fall into the deep sleep that only drunken stupidity can arouse. God, I am so bored.