#eblast

Hey, Upper East Siders. Gossip Girl here.

It is with a heavy heart that I tell you all: An era has officially ended. And no, I’m not talking about me, even though most of you seem to believe the late Celia Santos and I are one in the same. I’m honored to be compared, but I can tell you now -- You’re stuck with me. I’m not going anywhere. But, this Thanksgiving will be honoring the deceased by paying tribute to our Fallen Starlet, by sharing my favorite tips she sent in before her untimely demise.

Buckle up, kids. None of you are safe.

To begin, something that doesn’t come as much of a surprise, but still has it’s own shock factor. It seems that after C’s had her own sex tape leaked (Oh yes, consider a few bets one -- She paid off security and the tech team. Iconic!), a certain CEO and Southern Belle found themselves in the company of vodka, coke, and very little clothes by the end of the evening. According to C, the Hicktown Harlot even told her herself. Awfully bold, though it doesn’t surprise me that an Abernathy would want to keep it in the family. But, I am shocked to see B following in C’s footsteps. Wasn’t he the one who spent the whole night sulking after he found out S had made him an Eskimo brother? At least they’re even, now.

Oh -- Don’t worry, I’m not planning on dwelling on Chessie’s sex life for much longer. That’s old news. What I’m interested in is the affair of the year -- It seems the Princess of Paradise isn’t satisfied with Type A, she’d prefer someone a little more reckless. Confirmed by a forgotten Givenchy bracelet, R made it clear he’s been bumping uglies with N. I’ll admit, I was shocked to hear about this one -- Turns out you can pay for pills in a few different ways. How very star-crossed. I would almost feel bad for W -- But, here’s the best part: It seems he’s not concerned with waiting for marriage, either. Unfortunately, whatever high end Call Girl he’s been seeing doesn’t leave a trail, not even a spotting of someone leaving after him. W was spotted doing a walk of shame, though -- And no, it wasn’t from N’s building. At least he’s learned the phrase ‘subtle’. You may want to take notes with your next affair, N. Your future husband can show you a thing or too about keeping up an appearance.

Hey, Upper East Siders. Gossip Girl here.

I asked, and you delivered. Well done. Lets get to it, shall we?

First, I’d like to give a shout out to Tate for cooking up this house party, it was much better than the crystal that’s usually on their menu. It seems you have terrible taste in men, though -- The Rehab Recluse wasn’t seen all night, and I can’t help but feel as though I’m being dodged. Take it from Mother Teresa, Q: Show up and sleep with the first person you can find, instead of hiding out. It’s much more entertaining.

Speaking of, to kick things off, lets talk about the Man on the High Horse. M, you can take the man out of Manhattan, but you can’t take Manhattan out of the man. What’s the point in fighting it? Our Patron Saint of the Upper East Side was spotted christening his return with Kate Moss 2.0, and I can only hope T sends him the cleaning bill. Bathroom sex? Come on, M. You’re not seventeen anymore. Get off in the guest room like a grown man.

Or just snuggle up to your roommate. We hear T is on the hunt for someone to keep their bed warm. And god knows you don’t have one to sleep in.

It seems that our boys have finally kissed and made up -- At least, long enough to do a little blow and have it fall apart again. My sources tell me they spotted a certain CEO and a Bohemian Burnout hiding in the corner, but the fun ended all too soon. What’s wrong, B? Didn’t the nanny teach you to share your toys? Or did S happen to run into your latest conquest and learn something less than savory?

My tip line was blowing my phone up all night, you would have mistaken my iPhone for a vibrator. This one comes from BeckyNYU -- I was about to hook up with Bishop, when we ran into Chessie puking in the bathroom. He totally ditched me for her. I saw them leaving together, too. I’d say I’m surprised to hear this bit of news, but I’ve always loved a good backstabbing. I’m sure you can put two and two together for what happened after, considering C’s track record. Two boys, one night? Scandalous. Keep it up, C. Lets just hope O doesn’t catch wind. FREYA may be provocative, but I’m not sure Play Boy was the angle they were going for.

Also spotted was dear, sweet, Audrey Hepburn, moping around the party with a red solo cup. What’s got you down, N? The lack of vintage Chanel and Champagne? We know this isn’t your scene, but you could at least slap a fake smile on. I like you when you’re pretending to be Future Housewife of the Year -- But I think I like hearing that you left the party with S much more. How’s dear W feel about sharing? I hope it’ll fit into his schedule.

Hey, Upper East Siders. Gossip Girl here.

It’s come to my attention that a few of you doubt my credibility, so I’ve come with a gift. A peace offering, really. I’m no monster -- Think of me as someone here to keep you all from drowning in secrets and lies. Someone has to keep us afloat, consider this a new sort of life raft.

One of my favorite things to watch is the life long game of Cat and Mouse between the Local Dealer and his police chief father. The two never fail to entertain, always keeping us on their toes with a game of ‘Will he or won’t he be arrested’. Well, R -- It looks the NYPD is upping the stakes. After plenty of sleuthing and the help of a few devoted readers, it looks like Chief Tandel himself is heading a new anti-drug movement through the city, and I have a feeling I know who Public Enemy Number One may be.

Looks like it’s time to rally the troops, R. Let The Chef know they can go back to cooking just food, instead of impersonating Walt White. While you’re at it, you may want to make sure S isn’t having a white Christmas this year..

Keep your friends close, and your coke rosary closer -- It looks like Daddy Dearest is ready to even the score.

You’re welcome.

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