Because at this point, liking Julia Allison is an act of iconoclasm.
Julia Allison Has No Idea What Work Is
You know what sucks? Working. Why would anyone want to if you didn’t have to? I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t help with charities either. I’d sit in my home in a pillow fort and eat frozen snickers bars, because their advertising campaign is getting to me. And I’d do puzzles. I like puzzles. Puzzles, with the TV on. AND THAT IS ALL I’D DO. Well, if people invited me to parties with the intent of making me feel like a pretty, pretty princess, I’d go to those too. Get a job? Why on earth would she do that? To make life unpleasant?
My day, broken down:
Woke up around 10 am - answered emails, got ready for Mirror Awards luncheon at 11:45 am, cabbed it to the Harmonie Club at 60th & 5th (I would have walked, but I had on heels and I didn’t want to be late). After the luncheon (which I left at 2:30) , I subway’d to 29th & Park for an hour plus long meeting with TMIweekly’s producer, Kathleen. Then an elevator ride for a half hour hang out with David at Tumblr (Tumblr’s offices are below NNN’s). After that, I cab’d it to ICM’s offices on 50th & 8th to meet with my lit agent, Kate Lee, for an hour (coincidentially, she’s also Rachel Sklar’s lit agent! And Paula Froelich’s! And Jeff Jarvis’! I’m in pretty fantastic company.)
After the meeting, I walked back to my place, a few blocks away, to meet Megan, who had driven in from Long Island for the Alvin Ailey performance. Since they were dancing in Brooklyn, we drove (thank god for iPhone’s GPS, although BAM - the Brooklyn Academy of Music - isn’t exactly hard to find, I can get lost in my own bathroom, so. You know. GPS helps.) in time for the 7:30 performance, which ended around 10 pm. Then we drove back into the city to pick up CD in Union Square at 10:30, and took her to Morandi, on Waverly & 7th, in the West Village. We sat down for dinner around 11 (first food I’d had since lunch - I was starving!) and Megan finally dropped me back at my place around 1:15 am …
Now I’m home, Miss Lilly dog needs to be walked, I’m exhausted and SO looking forward to bed.
Julia Allison’s Day Broken Down For Her
- Woke up late (Christ woman, most people are well into work. Even too-far-gone-to-help alcoholics wake up earlier than you, and you DON’T DRINK!)
- Deleted your hate mail because it makes you cry.
- Rummaged through your pile of tutus to find the one that says “I’m a professional and I have a small ass, REALLY!”
- Took a taxi! Looked for yourself on the taxi TV!
- Have yet to actually work.
- Went to lunch, even though you had yet done any work today. The lunch was a awards ceremony for journalists, which you were glad to attend even though you aren’t a journalist.
- Took the subway! It’s underground!
- Met with producer. Flipped through back issues of 1980’s Cosmopolitan’s to find ideas for your “TV show.”
- Bothered the people at tumblr, who all hate you. Promised you’d give David Karp the reach around… eventually.
- Another taxi! Still looking for yourself on the taxi TV.
- Meeting with lit agent! Who reps people you will never be! You promise your agent to finally write something that is over 100 words. Then you break that promise and contemplate a book of narcissistic haiku.
- Walked home! Have yet to have done anything all day that can be remotely called work.
- Met up with
the boring onethe one who makes you look horrible on camera to watch the dancing. Used GPS!
- Watched the dancing. Thought about your tutus. Realized you are too fat to actually be a dancer. And too old to wear fucking tutus.
- Saw God. Still no actual work.
- Back to Manhattan. Dinner! No food since lunch! Too busy feigning importance to eat!
- Back to the princess palace. Tiptoed quietly past Rosie O’Donnell’s door. (You pissed off the lesbian. You now know wrath.)
- Your dog hasn’t been walked ALL DAY. Your dog hates you. It shit all over your apartment.
- Exhaustion! Still no work.
You are not important. Give it up. Get a job and get over yourself.
Jesus I hate to say this
Gay Pants? Julia doesn’t wear pants, you muddle mushed brain fool. Also, did you not know she was busy with more important things? She wore a crown! And a pink dress! And made her blind date wait 45 minutes! That’s enough. Go make icky faces (probably your NORMAL face - oooh, burn) at your icky mirror.
I’ve always stuck up for the way Julia Allison looked. Her looks shouldnt be a factor as to why everyone hates her. She’s a pretty girl. Well, tonight…I met her in person for the first time.
This is one of the most delusional people I have ever met. Let’s start off with the fact that she wore a crown to the party. Apparently she crowned herself the queen prior to the rulings. GAY PANTS
I tried to introduce myself to her because honestly, I wanted to get a pic with her making an icky face like I did with Rambin…well, Julia wouldnt be bothered. I am not someone she’d waste her time with apparently.
I’m not going to call her fat or anything mean like that, but lets just say…girl dont look the same in person. Ok, that’s all.
Let Julia Allison be a lesson to you
Umm, let Julia Allison be a lesson to you in awesomeness! The only tumbling I see has to do with tumblarity. Which is… not falling. JULIA FOR PROM QUEEN!
There really isn’t such thing as “internet fame.”
And if the closest you come to achieving this elusive and temporary state is to become a somewhat well-known in a relatively small Midwestern city, well, don’t let it go to your head too much.
The fall from stardom won’t be a long one, but it won’t be pretty.
Make sure you have a few friends left to catch you when you do eventually start to tumble.
Julia for Prom Queen!
Ilikejuliaallison never went to prom. I suspect in retrospect it had something to do with my scales, which the other kids told me made me “unique” “different” and “like a terrifying, disgusting alien from planet creepy.” Glamour shot! It’s cool. These days, I cover them with Jessica McClintock taffeta, which makes them look… fluffy. Which is a synonym for attractive.
However, apparently Julia went. And she went with 17 boys. That’s how you know she is super pretty and popular. Which is why she needs your vote for prom queen for the Webutante Ball. ! One exclamation point isn’t enough. !!!!!!!! And some more. !!!!!!!!!!!!!
Now, because of my interesting skin type, all ilikejuliaallison knows about prom comes from watching endless loops of Gossip Girl in my darkened, subterraean, softly padded lair. Basically, this is how prom works. You can insert the name Julia in your head for all mentions of Blair (though that’s so obvious, I don’t need to say it, right?) Blair shows up at prom wearing some dress that looks like they stripped down another window treatment at Tara. And Nelly Yuki (Mary Rambin) is like “I’m going to be prom queen and steal all of the bids for Blair out of the ballot box!” But her plan fails, and Blair is voted prom queen and triumphantly announces “I OWN prom!” “Huh?” Says Serena (Meghan Asha) “Who even voted for her?” “I did” replies Chuck (ilikejuliaallison) “About 150 times.”
But that wily fox Richard Blakely has made it so I can’t vote for her more than once. His voting system somehow stalks my computer. I don’t know how, and I don’t know why it doesn’t want me voting for Julia 150 times.
But if we team up, we can get 150 collective votes! Be my hands, readers. Be my scaly, mutant, alien hands. Julia ‘09! Yes we can! Yes we can! Change (or really, sameness) we can believe in!