#weee !

@genderhoarding-sillystyle

@gwendolyn-steele

Since the leak Corinne’s phone has yet to stop ringing, whether it’d be members of her board, potential clients or journalist trying to get her to say something damning. It seems as though everyone in D.C. was looking for one particular blonde consultant. As much as she’d love to relish in all the eyes on her, it was agreed that the best thing the company could do was present a unified front, which meant no interviews with People’s Mag or morning spots on CNN.

Every interview and comment request was forwarded to the board and after a morning meeting, it was agreed that little miss Morris was going to meet with the WaPo— not Elliott, never Elliott. With one Gwendolyn Steele. As well as Corinne understood PR, she herself had never been under its spell before. Per Corinne’s the team’s request, they were to meet at Fiola for a private dinner. Corinne was styled and made up— a look they called unassuming innocence and effortless beauty, peach tones, hair down and heels that somehow managed to give her no height whatsoever.

She arrives 20 minutes early for no reason other than, they told her to. Sure she came with a pocketful of answers but if Gwen’s intention was to ask her a few hard hitting ones, she planned on going off script. She always thought the most power laid in the truth. She sets down her glass as Gwen approaches; hand extended, smile warm and bright. “Ms.Steele, what a pleasure to meet you,”

It's been a really really messed up week. Seven days of torture, seven days of bitter, and my boyfriend went and cheated on me. He's a California stud but it's time for me to quit emm.

LOL. Remix, right? Lamest shit ever. I'm sleepy as fuck and I don't know what to do. Can you really blame me? Hahaha.

I'm like, trying to get my jam on and shit, sitting in my room blaring my music, and then the power goes out. Like, for real right now? That's upsetting. Just cuts off in the middle of a great song. Plus, I'm home alone. Which makes this storm sort of scary.