So guess who abandoned her nest in LA and flew to NY? If you guessed me, you're right. If you guessed anyone else, you're wrong. Other people obviously did so because I wasn't on the plane alone, but none of them matter. I matter. Someone told me that a certain other someone was in need of something, and it was both handy and completely inconvenient because I was already coming here for business and not the second someone, but the something that someone needs is kind of not business and thus out of my way to procure. Firstly, let me say that flying sucks. This is why I never leave LA, people. It's not that I don't love you. Whoever you are. It's that I hate flying. Also: post 9/11 security is ridiculous. Please. They did that once. It's not like they're going to do it again. Or maybe they will, I don't know, maybe all terrorists have a very very small imagination. If I was Osama, I'd be thinking about other ways. Something really surprising. Like, highjacking Disney World and...doing something sinister with Mr. Toad's Wild Ride. Imagine if Giant Teacups rained down on you. Now that's a terrorist attack. If I offended anyone, I don't care. Stop reading. Go away. So, flying sucks. I hate it. I didn't even fly first class. You know why? Because there are more pretentious bastards in first class than in economy. You're more likely to get a head in your lap if you fly first class. I'm not saying this like, peasants, envy not your first class fellows, it's just the truth. You get all community-friendly back in economy. That crying baby? It becomes everyone's crying baby. We share concern. We share the want to throw it out of the airlock. And for the record, airlock sounds totally StarWars. Like, I expect there to be Chewy sized space suits stuffed in the bathrooms or something. Or maybe this:It is unclear to me which is more frightening. Maybe it's just the rush of adrenaline and fear-controlling agents in my body which make me go cuckoo when I'm in the air. Have I mentioned I hate flying? Booze on planes. Not enough. Not ever enough. I felt like a fucking asshole, pleading with the pretty attendant for one more tiny child size bottle of Jack's. When I say Jack's, I mean Daniel's. And speaking of pretty attendants, hot damn. There are some fine girls thirty thousand above. Wait, that sounds ridiculously high. I forget all my airplane facts from writing Survivor. Did you like that? That shameless plug? So anyway, what do we call them now, air hostesses? Hostesses in the air? They're all so Kennedy-era with little pillbox hats and those scarves that could be name brand or not. And if they were they'd be some kind of crappy Ralph Lauren lurid equestrian themed bullshit. Anyway, right now I'm in New York City, sitting in Issy Morgan's living room with her stupid dog (I MEAN I LOVE IT WHAT) on one side of me and I'm half expecting a ferret to attack me from some hidden recess. Except Issy informs me that Harvey keeps...Tristran? What the fuck kind of name is that. That Harvey keeps Tristran at home. Apparently Harvey still doesn't like the dog all that much either. Oh? I wasn't supposed to write that? Deal with it, Balentine. So I'm at Morgan's place while she goes to New Orleans (this thing called family...glad I don't have one) with Balentine (apparently they're childhood friends? Who knew. Who cared.) and I get this place to myself. I won't have enough time to mess with her piano though (ONLY JOKING) because I'll be working on a sehr sehr sekrit project with that someone who needed something. It'll be fabulous. And fagulous. I'm thinking of getting some Michael Alig-themed stuff in there, do you think they'd let me? I know he's still in prison but I bet he's still a perfect queen. That's such an interesting story. I feel like Michael Alig on bail would make a bigger draw than Harry Potter's dick. Oh, have I said too much? Yeah right, you fuckers don't read between the lines anyway. Toodles. Side note: last week's ANTM reminded me of Balentine's Sandman stuff, which I've been reading only because it's more interesting than his GQ article. Jesus, Issy, get a new obsession, alright?

I'm guessing that's not the character inspired by Miss Morgan.

Is anyone else obsessed with America's Next Top Model?

I was unfortunate enough to become acquainted with the trite reality show when I was doing research for Invisible Monsters and I haven't been able to stop watching it since. It's become progressively more high fashion as the seasons went along, but catered more to Tyra Banks' personal shortcomings than anything else. That's my major problem with it -- that these disillusioned girls are merely puppets in the world of Bankable Productions. For example, in the most recent episode, Miss Banks proclaimed that swim suit modeling is a cornerstone in any career, high fashion or commercial.

Uh, excuse me? When was the last time you saw Jessica Stam or Coco Rocha in a bikini? I know there are high fashion/Victoria's Secret cross over success stories (like Behati Prinsloo) but for the most part, models who do catwalk are not on the cover of Sports Illustrated. The last time I saw Caroline Trentini in a bikini was for an article in Vogue -- about Caroline Trentini.

I have a number of problems with the show -- Tyra's self indulgence being the source of many -- but it's fucking addictive and I record every episode. It's like crack.

For anyone else who watches it: is it just me or does Lauren Brie look exactly like Tanya Dziahileva?

And for the record, I think Tyra's makeover team just flipped through Deutsch Vogue Sept. 2008 and looked at Olga Sherer's editorial for Elina's hair -- they're identical. Olga looks better.

Katherine 'Kitty' Lucjan Played By: Carmen Hawk. Birthdate & Age: February 21, 1968 Residence: Los Angeles. Screen name: kitty lucjan Biography: Katherine Sigurros Lucjan was born in Leavenworth, Washington, to Polish parents, in 1968. The Bavarian-themed town was small and sleepy, and Katherine, nicknamed 'Kitty' as a small child, was never quite comfortable amidst the borrowed culture and kitschy tourist sites. A rather sullen little girl, her attitude only got worse when her parents divorced when she was eight. Mother took custody and stayed in Leavenworth, but her father moved to Seattle. It was on Kitty's visits to the big city that helped shape what was to become rapier wit. Katherine grew up without many friends, she was solitary by nature, and neither the switch from elementary school to middle nor middle to high changed that. She was a peculiar-looking girl, wide set eyes paired with an undeniably childlike face made for an awkward transition from girl to woman. She found her strength in writing, and sophomore year in High School, she took a creative writing class, excelling in everything save for poetry. She was praised with having an unusual 'voice', and she kept that compliment close to her heart. When she was eighteen, she enrolled in Cornish College of the Arts in Seattle, living with her father at first before moving out at age 20. She gained a Masters in Screen/Playwriting and settled into an 'alternative' lifestyle, though hardly self-destructive. Katherine frequented various clubs and bars, doing what she did best -- writing and observing. She had a rather unsatisfactory career writing an opinion column for an independent newspaper, and made enough money to stay alive and not much else. When she was twenty eight, she finished what would be her first big project. Fight Club was built upon the ridiculousness of the office life, the predictability of suburban futures, and the little bit of crazy behind every worker bee's eyes. She shopped around for an agent in Seattle but decided L.A. would be better. She moved to the city of angels and her career took off; not only did she acquire an agent and publish Fight Club, but she also managed to nab a studio's attention. Her first book was made into a film in 2002. From then on, Katherine wrote at her own leisure, popping out edgy bestseller after edgy bestseller. After Fight Club was published, she met Jack Foster a up and coming music star. Their romance bloomed suddenly and was unexpected in Kitty's mind. During the time they were together, Katherine wrote nearly nothing. After their eventual break up, she made up for lost time by putting out both Survivor and Invisible Monsters in one year. The latter carried more metaphors about the relationship -- the protagonist's unending affection for her ex-fiance was destructive to the point of spiking said ex-fiance's beverages with female hormones. Katherine never went that far with Jack, but she remains fairly bitter about the whole affair -- mainly because she abandoned her writing during the time they were together. They remain on friendly terms. His own post breakup work was so successful, she figured their separation was required by unearthly laws, and appreciates that it catapulted them both into creative genius. After Jack, she attached herself to Georgiana Fallon, a drummer in the band Machine. Their romance was more physical than emotional, but they remain close friends. Credits: Here. Other stuff: Katherine, despite her fame and fortune, has remained quite grounded during her near twenty-year stint in the business. She smokes like a chimney and drinks like a fish and gets invited to industry parties but keeps to herself. She's the famous girl in the corner with too much eyeliner and a scowl. She has a loyal following, however, and attempts to keep them sated with odd replies (rubber stamps alluding back to previous works, prosthetic limbs, etc.) She keeps to herself, for the most part, but admires several writers in the business -- namely the ones who keep true to their artistic vision despite the commercial impact. Katherine has never been married and doesn't plan on it, though she's not opposed to various flings. In her own words: "How sweet! You still believe in death... that's just so... quaint. Well, sorry to pop your death bubble, but there's no such thing. So make the best of things. Any real belief in death is just wishful thinking. Don't waste good drugs on killing yourself. Share them with friends and have a party. Or send them to me."