As I said in Night Crumbs last week, Carla sadly didn’t work out as Dlisted’s weekend provider of foolery. Her reign was short and sweet and I loved everything she did here. Now I’d like to introduce to our new weekend writer. I know, I’m like a slutty parent introducing his kids to a new “uncle.”
Once again, Dlisted’s newest weekend writer isn’t Phoebe Price. Chicken Cutlets has much more important contributions to civilization to make, like posing for extremely excited paps (see: the ones behind her) in a custom Armani Privé couture ensemble (or a clearance bin Frederick’s of Hollywood catsuit, funeral curtains, a Maidenform bra and Capezio chonies).
Dlisted’s newest weekend writer is Martin! Martin is from New York and may be weirder than me. The other day, both of our dogs were suffering from the wet shits at the same time, so we bonded over that on IM. I know, you really needed that information in your brain today. But anyway, Martin will handle the weekends while I’m off doing weekend shit. Like today, I’m going to go through my closet and donate anything I can’t fit into anymore. So basically, later tonight, a drunken me will be crying on a giant pile of reminders of a skinnier me as my bare closet has 3 things hanging in it.
Martin may need a minute to get comfortable in this house of messiness, so bear with us as we figure shit out (although, I’ve been doing this for a long time and I’m still figuring shit out). And now I leave you with these gorgeous pictures of PP paying homage to the fame whores of yore by busting out an “accidental” crotch slip in front of the paps. I know you’ll be having fried chicken skins for lunch.