The Leighton Meester sex-tape viewing will inevitably go down as the central entertainment of what will soon be known as the Best Day of My Life So Far, tentatively scheduled to occur the minute San Fernando Valley bigwigs agree to terms and Comcast repairmen finally arrive and hook me back up to the real world. Until then, dreams will remain dark and spotty, featuring lots of spiders and rats and scuttling sounds.
I walked past a man speaking sternly to his ten-year-old son on a campus bench. The boy was red-faced, hoping he wouldn't cry. I thought, My God, did I just fall through a time warp? Is that me? That was how I felt for about fourteen years of my life. Then a guy jogged by who looked exactly like a Filipino Chuck Bass, and there I was again, suddenly, "safe" in 2009.
Emerz says he doesn't know if he can watch the tape. Remember, he didn't watch Kim Kardashian's, either. "Well, I'm a sensitive guy," says Emerz. This from a man who refers to women's primary(?) erogenous zones as "bangers and mash."
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