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Zinovia_Dushkova_The_Book_of_Secret_Wisdom_-_The(b-ok_org).pdf The Book of Secret gossip girl novels created by Cecily von Ziegesar: Gossip Girl. N's Bedroom Is % Pure Love. NOBODY DOES IT BETTER (A Gossip Girl Novel - 07) Cecily Von Ziegesar Contents Epigraph ppti.info N's Bedroom Is -GG Sightings S after midnight, tiptoeing out to the mailbox outside herfifth avenue apartment building with her arms full of big. You Know You Love Me. Gossip Girl (Series). Book 2. Cecily von Ziegesar Author Christina Ricci Narrator (). cover image of You Know You Love Me.

Gossip Girl Pdf

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GOSSIP GIRL books :) PDF format:) yay!! happiness! ppti.info /0jgdjuh73x. the soulfulness behind this girl's gaze. Meet SERENA VAN DER WOODSEN, GOSSIP GIRL VOICE. Long pale hair. Dark blue eyes. Register Free To Download Files | File Name: Season 1 Gossip Girl PDF. SEASON 1 GOSSIP GIRL. Download: Season 1 Gossip Girl. SEASON 1 GOSSIP .

With the original ca This definitely ended like it was the last book in the series. Jan 23, Diana rated it liked it Shelves: In the original series, Blair is at once hilarious, terrifying, and at the same time sympathetic. And that is a very good thing. Remove the custom ad blocker rule s and the page will load as expected. Has Alloy pulled the plug on this series already?

Avery finally found her loved one and so did Owen. The Carlyles also called The Carlyle Triplets is a Gossip Girl spin-off series that takes place after the last novel of the original series. Love Avery and Rhys, they are cute. Gossip Girl: The Carlyles novel series No trivia or quizzes yet.

Jul 04, Sarah Kathleen rated it liked it Shelves: It somehow made the rest of the books look like fine literature. Is their friendship real and more than just going out, partying and talking fashion? May 05, Jessica Booked J rated it really liked it Shelves: This series is either growing on me or getting better. Espicelly since they left such a gaping hole in it.

Hm... Are You a Human?

Hugh is annoyingly funny as usual, and Eddie is just so fun to read,I wish I had a mom like her. It was something else. This novel also dives into the little relationships between each of the characters. I liked this book best out of the series. Does O have what it takes to lap Rin and out of the water? For a start, Gossip Girl: Break up sex is unacceptable. The characters as much as they were learning and growing and did somewhat find their place by the end their problems that they kept having to face felt trivial.

Love the One You're With is a great book. Meanwhile, uber-starlet Amelie Adams is just like any other teenage girl: It's our last best hope for saving this particular type of teen series, and I can't let these books die. However, as the story progresses, things get way more complicated than just a family vacation. She does find a boyfriend, someone who shes known for a long time but never confessed to, Rhys.

For being the last book, it was okay. Cashman ; Rhys Sterling ; and Kelsey Talmadge. Therefore, Owen dragged his best friend, Rhys, to the tropics with him.

But anyway, if this series is getting axed, this book encapsulates many of the reasons why this would happen. I'm pretty sure this is the ending of the series, and I shall treat it as one. The Carlyles the gang is picking up the pieces from the explosive storm of drama that had hit their lives in recent months and are fast on their way to a well earned vacation. The book talks about the Carlyle triplets and their lives as they learn that their mother is getting married.

Rhys and Avery are dating behind Owens back. Everyone at the end of this book seemed happy and content and there wasn't much drama. I really hope they stay together. Who knows, it's you who needs to read it. Despite that they're dating, Avery doesn't truly know why Rhys is with Owen in the tropics. I would like to see more happen with Baby. You kno It's Thanksgiving, and the Carlyle triplets are thankful to be escaping the New York City cold-they're jetting to the tropics and bringing all their friends along for the ride.

Avery spends the whole book "screeching" at one person or another, and comes off more Tracy Flick than Blair Waldorf. Just mindless fun, which I need every now and then. As if I haven't been complaining about this enough with the Private series, this book finds the group on vacation on yet another private island.

I really liked this book, it had friendship, some characters grew up, some got married, and some missed a plane. This book reminded me too much of the drama that surrounds the middle school hallways in which I work.

Love the One You're With by Cecily von Ziegesar As if I haven't been complaining about this enough with the Private series, this book finds the group on vacation on yet another private island. Or will the Ashleys actually go down?

However, at least here the focus remains so much on who's hooking up and who's breaking up that we don't have to spend too long on all the details of being at a luxury resort. This means half the lesser characters aren't even in the book not that we can keep track of them anywayand we get introduced to some new ones who aren't exactly noteworthy the British girls are especially obnoxious.

This review has been hidden because it contains spoilers. Baby Carlyle has been stealing people's heart and playing around with it. There was a reason gossip girl the carlyles 4 love the one you're with pdf I picked up The Carlyles rather than the original one. En gossip girl the carlyles 4 love the one you're with pdf plus sur http: Espicelly since they left such a gaping hole in it.

And so does Owen-Jack. This was just bad. Only here, the battles are fought with icy glares and vicious rumors.

Anyway, it was certainly no less enjoyable than the rest of the books I love the Gossip Girl books and the Carlyle spin- offs and I'm not going to say how old I am, but suffice to say I'm about twice the age of the target demographicand man. I'm interested to see what happens next, and hoping that they'll at least make an effort to save the Gossip Girl franchise, if not this particular iteration of it.

Overall, it was fun. She and stepsister Myla have a tenuous truce, at least at home-but with Jojo becoming more and more popular at Beverly Hills High, how long can the ceasefire last? He looked exactly as Dan had envisioned he'd look himself next year- before he'd been discovered by the Raves and before he'd just shaved the back of his head. He ran his finger over the shaved part of his head and glanced down at his outfit.

He'd have to go shopping, because none of his clothes went with his hair anymore. And you thought that was something only girls worry about. If only Jenny were there to help out, Dan thought grimly. But his little sister was too busy being a supermodel to go through his closet with him and tell him what was lame and what was acceptable.

Dan picked up a cup of Folgers instant coffee that had been cooling on the floor since that morning and took a sip. He grimaced at his reflection in the mirror, and for an instant he could almost envision himself up on stage, giving the audience the same annoyed, pissed-off grimace.

Maybe, just maybe he could pull this off, without his sister's help. Or maybe not. Fireeater: duh, I'm a performer Hairlessskat: you really eat fire? Fireeater: I'm working on it. Mostly I dance with my snakes.

The Complete Gossip Girl Series

Hairlessskat: snakes? Fireeater: yea I have four snakes Fireeater: you're okay with pets right? Fireeater: you still there? Fireeater: yo, hello? Even though the girl Vanessa was supposed to interview in three minutes had sounded cool in her e-mail that morning, she probably wouldn't be psyched if Vanessa greeted her at the door in her black cotton Hanes underwear.

Vanessa pulled a folded pair of pants off the top shelf in her bedroom closet without even looking. Everything in her closet was black, and she was a strong believer in shopping in duplicate. If you owned six pairs of straight-legged black stretchLevis , you never really had to think about what you were going to wear, and you only had to do laundry once a week.

She pulled the jeans up around her pale and slightly pudgy hips, yanked her black long-sleeved V-neck tee down over them and ran her hands over her shaved, dark head. She might have looked odd to all the so-called "normal" girls she went to school with, but the girl she was about to meet sounded more interesting than they could ever hope to be- well, at least she had online. The downstairs buzzer rang, just as she'd anticipated.

Vanessa went over to the window and pulled aside the curtain, which was really just a black poly-blend Martha Stewart Everyday bed sheet she and her sister Ruby had bought at K-mart last Halloween. On the street two floors below, a drunk homeless guy was shouting at empty parked cars. A little boy with green spiked hair and no shirt on sped down the sidewalk on a mountain bike that was way too big for him.

The crumbling cement block that served as Vanessa's front stoop was empty. The Prospective roommate was already on her way up. Normal girls, , like the girls in her class atConstance , wore pink lip gloss and different versions of the exact same pair of shoes and were religious about things like highlights and pedicures.

In her e-mail application this girl Beverly had said she was an art student at Pratt, so she was older, for one thing, and was probably kind of alternative. Hopefully she'd be as cool as she sounded. Vanessa opened the door to the apartment just asBeverly mounted the top of the stairs. And to Vanessa's complete surprise,Beverly wasn't a she, she was a he.

Vanessa had sort of forgotten to specify that she was looking for a girl roommate in her web posting. A deliberate mistake? Don't worry I'm used to it. She'd mastered the unexpressive stare long ago while eating alone day after day in theConstance Billard School cafeteria, turning out the senseless babble of her beautiful, bitchy classmates.

She tucked her fingers into the back pockets of her jeans and nonchalantly led the way into the apartment "I was just IMing with this weirdo chick who dances with snakes. You don't have any snakes, do you? The walls were white and the wood floors were bare. The only decorations were framed stills from the dark, morose films that Vanessa notoriously made in her spare time.

Vanessa discovered she was staring atBeverly 's firm, round buttocks and quickly averted her eyes. Vanessa loved that he didn't start babbling about how offbeat or depressing the were, the way people usually did. Just the way he said, "whose work? Her fridge was uncharacteristically full of beer from her eighteenth-birthday party two weekends ago, and she'd take any opportunity to get rid of it.

Gossip Girl #7: Nobody Does It Better: A Gossip Girl Novel

Ask any high-school boy if he wanted a beer and he'd down a whole six-pack in three seconds flat. AllBeverly needed was a little water to whet his palate, and a place to live- for instance, with her. Slow down, Nellie! What about the interview? Vanessa went into the tiny open kitchen and got out a vintage Scooby-Doo glass and some ice and a pitcher of filtered water from the refrigerator.

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She filled the glass slowly, surreptitiously studyingBeverly as she did so. His small, intense eyes were pale blue, and his short, tousled hair was nearly black. The palms of his hands and his fingernails were stained black with some sort of ink he must have been using in his artwork, and his drab green t-shirt was flecked with what looked like sawdust.

His black pants were just the sort of loose black cotton poplin slacks she would have worn everyday if she were a guy, and on his feet were a pair of those thin orange rubber flip-flops you can buy at the drugstore for ninety-nine cents. He was so not like the people she went to school with, Vanessa couldn't help but feel kind of excited. Could that have anything to do with the fact that he's a guy?

She walked around the counter and handedBeverly the water, already envisioning what it would be like to stay up late and watch movies together. She could bring him water and he would nod his head at her in that thoughtful, sexy way of his. And then they would dissect Stanley Kubrick's work, film by film Vanessa took a seat on the futon sofa andBeverly sat down beside her. It can get pretty crazy there sometimes, though. She knew exactly how he felt.

Of course, she'd never expected to share an apartment with a guy- other than Dan- but she was eighteen now, an adult, able to make her own decisions and mature enough to have a guy roommate and no intention of jumping his bones.

So he didn't want to live with her? Do stuff.

Gossip Girl Series (13 books)

Get to know each other. See if it could work out," he added. Vanessa sat on her hands feeling embarrassingly like one of those so-called normal girls she hated after some hottie had asked them to a prom or whatever they called those ridiculous dress-up parties they were always going to because it gave them the opportunity to buy a new dress.

Beverly did want to live with her. He just wanted to get to know her first. How refreshing and exciting to finally meet someone so intelligent, creative, cool- and hot! I mean, you're right. It's important to know who you're about to move in with.

Wow, he even cleans up after himself. He flip-flopped back into the living room. What better way to show Dan that she'd moved on and had a life of her own beyond him and his selfish self than to bring a guy to his first gig?

Want to go? He pressed his palms together and nodded his head in that sexy, monklike way of his. I'll call you tomorrow to make a plan. Saturday mornings she and Beverly would sit by that window, making use of its southern exposure to make their art. He would work silently at his canvas, smearing black ink all over it with his hands while she filmed him.

And both of them would be Of course. How exciting to live with an artist. Of course, Dan was a poet, but that was different. All he did was scribble in notebooks all day, drinking bad coffee and getting shakier and more neurotic by the hour. Of course she would continue to interview other people- at least Instant Messenger- until everything was worked out.

But she was already pretty sure she'd found what she was looking for, the perfect mate. Doesn't she mean roommate? What are you guys doing?

Eleanor Waldorf and Blair's stepbrother, Aaron Rose, were standing on the bed in Blair's makeshift bedroom, thumb tacking some sort of large map on the wall. Blair stood in the doorway with her arms folded, awaiting an explanation. Eleanor was wearing a bizarre Versace outfit that had bad sample-sale purchase written all over it.

The outfit consisted of an orange-and-black vertically striped halter top attached to green-and-black horizontally striped pedal-pushers by way of a mess of gold chains and buttons. The petal-pushers even sported gold fringe. Why is it that the mom population is always drawn to designer's biggest mistakes? Not only was Eleanor's outfit ugly, but in another fit of postpartum depression she'd dome something dreadful to her hair.

That morning it had been shoulder-length and blonde. Now it's dyed dark red and cropped close to her head, like Sharon Osbourne's.

Needless to say, it was sort of hard for Blair to look at her. Aaron pushed the last tack into the corner of the map and hopped down from the bed, his wannabe Rastafarian mini dreadlocks banging merrily against his hollow vegan cheeks.

After all his father and her mother had only been married since thanksgiving, so Eleanor was definitely not his mom and she was very definitely not his sister. Despite the existence of her little brother Tyler, who was a boy, and Yale, who was only a baby, Blair had always identified herself as an only child, except for those rare occasions when she and Serena were getting along so well it felt like they were sisters.

Eleanor scooted off the bed, grabbed Blair's hand, and dragged her over to the sage-colored wall to look at the map. It was a detail ofAustralia and the Pacific Ocean, and there were four red circles drawn around four pinpricks in the sea betweenVanuatu andFiji. Underneath the circles, written in black ink in Eleanor's loopy cursive, were the names Yale, Tyler, Aaron, and Blair.

Blair twisted her ruby ring around and around on her finger. Eleanor was still holding Blair's hand and she squeezed her daughter's fingers tightly with manic delight. Each of my four little darlings has their ownPacific Island! And next year, when they print the new maps, your names will appear right there nest toFiji! Isn't that fantastic?

Fiji had always sounded sort of exotic to her, but theisland ofBlair probably consisted of a scrappy shrub on top a piece of reef riddled with spiny sea urchins and kelp. If he wasn't careful, Aaron was going to become one of those pale, skinny, asexual, vegetarian old men like Morrissey, fading into the ether without anyone remembering that he'd ever been there.

Aaron and Serena had hooked up and even been in love for a fleeting moment that winter, but Aaron wasn't exciting enough to hold Serena's attention for more than five minutes. Than again, who was? Blair wasn't all that interested in what Aaron and his loser Bronxdale Prep band mates did to amuse themselves, or in her mother's insane need to buy random, completely pointless things like islands and alpacas and surfboards, but she did want to know what Kitty Minky, her Russian Blue cat, was doing digging around in the sumptuous pile of silk-covered bolsters, pillows, and throws at the head of her bed.

All of a sudden Kitty Minky let loose a stream of disgusting smelling cat pee. Kitty Minky leapt off the bed, but it was too late: Blair's rose-colored silk bedspread and throw pillows were soaked through.

You can sleep with me and Tyler in our room until Esther cleans this place up," Aaron offered. Tyler and Aaron's roomed smelled like beer and feet and tofu hot dogs and those foul herbal cigarettes Aaron was always smoking. Blair wrinkled her nose. Eleanor wrung her hands. She picked up some sort of terrible face rash at the pediatrician's office when she was there for her checkup yesterday.

Apparently it's very contagious. Blair's small blue eyes narrowed. She adored her baby sister, but she wasn't about to risk getting a rash, especially not a face rash. Which left a particular question unanswered: Exactly where the fuck was she supposed to sleep?! The penthouse was clearly uninhabitable, and while the Archibalds' house had seemed like an obvious choice only an hour ago, it had since turned into an after-school program for sixteen-year-old Nate-worshipping stoners.

Serena's door was always open, but Serena's parents were kind of old-fashioned, and they probably wouldn't like it if Blair had a boy in her room with the door closed or whatever.

Like Serena never had a boy in her room with the door closed?! Besides, Blair had already tried living with Serena for a few days that spring and they'd fought the whole time. Of course that was when Blair had been trying to seduce Serena's brother Erik in order to lure Nate away from that drugged-up lumber heiress he'd met in rehab.

Still, now that she and Serena were friends again, it was best not to risk it. As if they wouldn't find something else to fight over. Blair pulled open the top drawer of the cruelty-free mahogany dresser. She had a credit card, and there were lots of nice hotels nearby.

She grabbed a pair of clean white cotton Hanro underwear and a white tank top. The one benefit of wearing a uniform to school was packing light. And the benefit of packing light was that undoubtedly she would need something that she didn't have and would therefore have to buy at on of the three Bs: Bendel's, Berfdorf's, or Barneys. She glanced at her gold Cartier chain-link wristwatch. I'm five minutes late for my Red Door makeup appointment. I can't wait to surprise him with his present.

A whole country? But I'm not sure if I'll even be coming back, you know, to live. After seventeen and a half years of being Blair's mother, she still didn't quite know what to make of her. Blair smirked back. As if they were worried. Remember that time in Latin when you were so baked you thought you were in French? Herman the she-man was like, "I beg your pardon, Mr. Although all romance languages find their roots in Latin, I never did master French.

Like a native speaker. A ponytailed boy named Malcolm was playing the guitar and singing an ancient James Taylor song. My parents'Hamptons booze cruise is in a couple weeks. Boat's already docked down in Battery Park. You're coming right? Fat chance. He realized vaguely that Blair had never made an appearance on the roof terrace.

Maybe, she was still in the shower, or maybe she'd kissed him good-bye and gone home? He honestly couldn't remember. If she was still in the shower, he might steal downstairs and surprise her. The thought of her wet and naked made him smile deliciously. Charlie pulled a marijuana-stuffed Ziploc from out of his khaki pants pocket and began loading it up on the bong.

Nate pressed answer and put the phone on to his ear without actually saying anything. So get your ass over here right now. I have a suite. Nate gazed in the general direction of downtown. It seemed very far away, but it would be nice to lie on a big white hotel bed and watch lots of movies and order room service.

He was pretty hungry.

Not exactly what Blair had in mind. I've got everything else covered," she added coyly. Meaning the three Cs:Champagne , caviar and condoms. He'd pick the green alligator away from his Lacoste shirt, and it dangled from his chest like a partially removed scab.

It's stocked with booze, and the crew's probably doing the tourist thing in town and won't even notice if we take it out for a spin, right? You sail like a master. Why not go on a little pre-Hamptons excursion to, say-" "Bermuda! The three boys looked at Nate. They knew they were asking to do something completely outrageous, but they could tell by the interested glimmer in Nate's eye that he was sort of into it.

Nate's mind was racing in a blurry, zig-zaggedy, stoned way. Sail the boat toBermuda? Sure, why not? They were seniors they could do whatever they wanted.

Blair could come too, and they could drink mimosas and make love on the beach under the warm sun. She was always talking about going away together. Lexie came over and sat down in Nate's lap. The tip of her jet-black ponytail just grazed the sun, moon and the stars tattoo on her shoulder blade.

Nate waited until she was done with the bong to pushing her out of his lap and hoisting himself to his feet. He clapped his hands together like a stoned camp counselor. Not only had they gotten to party at Nate Archibalds' town house, he was taking them somewhere- probably somewhere cooler than they had ever been before.

Jude's junior whose name happened to be Nte lyons, and who mimicked his namesake down on the color of his navy blue Brooks Brothers socks. There was a mass rush to the exit. Nate Archibald, the coolest senior boy on theUpper East Side , was taking them out on his boat. It was their big fucking day! Nate followed the rest of the boys downstairs with good-natured amusement, completely forgetting what he's been about to do before the topic of a sail toBermuda even came up.

She'd called Serena just to brag about being at the Plaza, feeling guilty as she dialed but getting over the guilt by the time the phone began to ring. She leaned toward the massive gilt-framed bathroom mirror and applied another coat of Chanel Vamp lipstick.

It was dark red and she usually only wore it in winter, but when you were locked in a sumptuous hotel suite with your boyfriend having constant sex, who cared what season it was? Blair had confessed to finally loosing her virginity to Nate the morning after it happened, but she'd resisted too much detail and Serena resisted asking too many questions. After all, Serena and Nate had lost their virginities together, so sex withy Nate was kind of an awkward subject.

Her acceptance to Yale was an even worse subject. Of course she wasn't exactly into Yale yet, but she was on the fucking waiting list- they still could have invited her.

Nate was into Yale too, but he hadn't mentioned any Yale party. And if he wasn't going, she certainly couldn't go. They might be Boys buzzed and hovered around her like flies at a picnic. She slipped into one of the Plaza's thick white terrycloth robes and answered the door. She tipped the guy and waited until he closed the door. Then she slipped out of her robe, flopped down on her side on the massiveCalifornia king bed, and reached for the remote. To her disappointment, 'Dirt Dancing' was playing.

Since when was anything made after a true classic? Blair wondered. All of a sudden she felt odd. But then, that seemed sort of appropriate, considering she was about to have a hot-and-heavy liaison with her lover in a sumptuous hotel suite.

Where was Nate anyway? A cab away from his house to the Plaza would only take seven minutes. If she were Nate, she'd have made it in five. She dialed his cell without even looking at the buttons on her phone, but there was no answer. Maybe he was showering and putting on his very sexy black Calvin Klein boxers in preparation for their rendezvous, she mused. Blair stood up, removed her robe, and dimmed the lights. Then she spread a little caviar on one of the toast points and stood watching herself in the over-sized gilt-framed dressing mirror as she ate it.

On the TV screen behind her, "Baby" was trying to look innocent after spending all night having big sweaty sex with Patrick Swayze, the dance instructor at the summer resort where her family was vacationing. Baby's dad was so seriously pissed off at her; Blair wondered fleetingly how her own dad would feel if he knew she'd moved into a hotel suite just so she could have a little privacy with Nate.

Not that her gay, French-chateau-living, pastel-argyle-socks-and-baby-blue-Gucci-sunglasses-wearing dad and Baby's responsible doctor dad in 'Dirty Dancing' had anything in common. She dialed Nate once again and when he didn't answer, she made herself another caviar toast point sandwich and called her dad's number in southern France, where he'[d been living since he and Eleanor split up over his gayness almost two years ago.

Is everything okay? Did you hear from those fuck-head at Yale yet? Are you in? Her father demanded as soon as he heard her voice.

Blair could picture him perfectly, naked except for a pair of royal blue silk boxers shorts, his sleeping lover- Francois or Eduard or whatever his name was - snoring softly beside him. Harold Waldorf, Esq. Now he bottled his own wine from the vineyards surrounding his chateau, shopped at cute French boutiques that catered exclusively to tanned gay men, and swam laps in his pool while his tanned gay lovers attended him with fresh towels and glasses of cognac. It was a luxe life, indeed.

In fact, talking to her dad was exactly like talking to one of her girlfriends. He didn't mind that it was almost two in the morning inFrance and she had totally woken him up. You'll be here in an hour. I'm living here now. In a suite. He was so into his latest batch of white wine, he probably kept a bottle chilling next to the bed exactly for occasions like this.

In 'Dirty Dancing' Land, Baby's bitchy sister was performing in a stupid talent show, wearing a bikini top that was way to small for her. Blair muted the TV, spread another blob of caviar on a toast point, lit a cigarette and sighed dramatically. The staff would pick through her trash and steal her clothes, and tourists would stand on Central Park South opposite the hotel, just waiting to catch a glimpse of her.

She'd be the talk of the town. As if she wasn't already. Blair giggled and scarfed down another caviar sandwich between drags on her Merit Ultra Light. She contemplated the bottle of champagne she'd ordered, still chilling in its silver-plated ice bucket. Nate wouldn't mind if she opened the bottle and had one tiny glass before he arrived, would he? Or course not. You deserve to have it all. Blair grabbed the bottle of champagne and held it between her bare knees, expertly untwisting the wire keeper from around the cork and then inching the cork out of the bottle's neck, slowly You are totally having a party!

On screen Patrick Swayze was face-to-face with Baby's dad. It was the cheesiest movie, but she still fantasized about Nate defending her in such a determined, angry way. Nate was seriously hot when he was angry, which was just about It's hard to get riled up when your stoned all the time. Although who knew what was taking him so goddamned long. They will let you in.

Over the phone she heard someone mumble something in sleepy French. I have to go. You just enjoy yourself. She hung up and dialed Nate's cell phone again.

No answer. She dialed his house line. No answer, just his admiral dad in the answering machine, reading from the actual instructions the machine came with that no normal person ever used: "You have reached the Archibald residence.

Please leave a brief message and we will return your call as soon as possible. Another old favorite. Blair put the white terrycloth bathrobe back on a fluffed up the pillows on the giant bed.

Then she dialed room service again. And a pack of Merit Ultra Lights. When she left his house, Nate had been partying with a bunch of stoners, including an annoying French hippie chick named Lexique. That stupid, lazy asshole who so didn't deserve to go to Yale probably hadn't even noticed that Blair had left. Tears seeped out from under her closed lids. Nate hadn't changed.

Nothing had changed- except the status of her virginity. She bit her lip and fought back an angry sob. Well, so what? Nate didn't deserve sex. Besides, eating a hot fudge sundae in a Plaza hotel bed while plotting her revenge on her asshole-of-a-loser-soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend was even better than sex.

Way better. Yes, it's a school day. Unfortunately we'll be too busy getting ready for our hot-stone facials and seaweed body wraps to remember to show up! Please don't be worried about getting into trouble- not that you really are. Senior Cut Day is an ancientConstance Billard School tradition, and no one's ever been expelled or even punished for it. So here's what's happening. Thursday night at P. M we'll board the Archibald family's big sailboat, which is docked atBattery Park City.

The Archibalds are having their annual benefit cruise to theHamptons , and they have generously offered us a ride. As soon as we dock in Sag Harbor, we'll be picked up by a fleet of limos, which will whisk us off to Isabel Coates's totally amazing beach house, where the biggest, bestest girls-only slumber party will take place. In the morning we'll have breakfast by the pool, catered by TBA we're working on getting the chef who helped Julia Roberts lose all that weight after having her twins.

After that, a day of treatment brought to us by Origins. And everyone will get an Origins gift bag valued at three hundred dollars to take home wither totally refreshed and revitalized new self!

Dress: Resort casual. Towels, hairdryers, bath, and beauty products galore will be supplied. No dogs, please even if they are really small.

Let's heard it for an amazing weekend of bonding with the girls! Big Smoochies!!

S We put a suggestion box in the senior lounge, so your ideas are welcome, not that we haven't already planned the most perfect day! S Two, four, six, eight, only one month till we graduate!!! I mean is it okay to just, like, disappear??

Apparently a bunch of boys we all know and love at least most of the time have hijacked a very large, well-appointed sailboat and are headed into theAtlantic. It could be just another senior prank, except that half the boys on the boat are juniors. It's kind of random time to take off, especially when all of us girls could use a little entertainment. Just who do they think they are- Christopher Colombus? Rumor has it the latest couple of the moment is a certain blond-hairedFifth Avenue -dwelling senior girl and the lead guitarist from the Raves.

How, when, and where they met is a complete mystery, but talk about a perfect couple! Don't even try to pretend it was someone else: I saw you sneaking into the Gap on Eighty-sixth and Madison and actually trying on a plum-colored Juicy Couture terrycloth zip-up hoodie in the kids' section.

Okay, I'm a snooping bitch. But the reason I'm ratting you out is I tried the very same hoodie on, and, unlike you although I know you wanted to , I bought three of them! Why not? Besides, terrycloth is terrycloth, and what better way to show off your white new jacquard Gucci bikini than with a cute plum-colored hoodie?

Think of it as a get-out-of-jail-free card: you're still not allowed to buy jeans there - heaven forbid- but you can now have my permission to purchase certain necessary items at the Gap. Have you even decided? But let me ask you this- do I strike you as the indecisive type?

Hence his funny accent and the reason why he's always seems a little drunk. The son, who I hear has been in lots of trouble before, took off in the sailboat yesterday evening and hasn't returned.

I'm afraid his ass will be grass whenever he gets back, because his dad is kind of tough. B buying two La Perla nighties at Barneys. She seems to have developed an addiction to lingerie, but what else can one wear while lounging alone in a Plaza Hotel suite, waiting for one's boyfriend to turn up. D at Yellow Rat Bastard on lower Broadway, trying on every hat in the store. V purchasing a new lip ring - ew!

J in Barneys Co-op trying on every pair of Seven Jeans in the store ignoring the salesperson's suggestion that she'd have better luck finding jeans that fit in Bloomingdale's children's department. K and I atJackson Hole again, scheming again. N- not. Where in the hell is N anyway? Don't worry I'll find him. It was Saturday night and they were getting ready for Dan's gig with the Raves at Funkiton, a new music venue in revamped fire station onOrchard Street. Jenny glanced at Elise.

Jenny was wearing a stretchy red top with cap sleeves and a plunging U-shaped neckline that made her breast look gargantuan. She was barely five feet tall, and her very first pair of seven jeans had always been too long for her when she bought them at Bloomingdale's, so she had the lady at the dry cleaner's on Broadway and Ninety-eighth shorten them about ten inches.

Now she noticed that the purposely "antiqued" spot on each leg where her knee was supposed to be fell at mid-shin. The only acceptable part of Jenny's body was her head.

She liked her big, far-apart brown eyes, her clear whiter skin, her red lips, and her curly brown hair with its straight, severe nags across the forehead. As Serena once told her, she looked like a Prada model- with oversized breast implants and stumps for legs, although Serena would never have said that part.

Elise's body was totally the opposite. She was seven inches taller than Jenny, with long skinny legs, long skinny arms, and a flat chest. Nothing was ever too tight on her, except maybe in the belly region, which had sort of a doughnut roll around it. But that was easily hidden beneath a shirt. There was really nothing Jenny could do to hide her chest. Then again, Elise was covered in Freckles- there were even freckles on her eyelids- she had chin length straw-yellow hair that was so thick and so coarse, she could barely fit it into a rubber band.

Well nobody's perfect. Except for maybe a very select few of us. She pulled off her black V-neck T-shirt and handed it to Jenny. Elise's shirt was from Express, and hers was from Anthropologie, which was slightly nicer, but Jenny didn't want to hurt Elise's feelings by saying anything. Besides the results were astronomical.

Jenny's chest looked almost modest in the black top, and the red top made Elise's hair gleam with strawberry highlights neither of them had ever known she had. She dropped down on her knees and started crawling around the room. Everyone had heard.

Jenny crawled across the matted pink carpet to her closet to select a pair of shoes. Of course, Serena never had to crawl around like a dog in an attempt to make her jeans look normal.The Carlyles also called The Carlyle Triplets is a Gossip Girl spin-off series that takes place after the last novel of the original series. Maybe, she was still in the shower, or maybe she'd kissed him good-bye and gone home?

Dan rubbed at his bony chin and thought about growing a goatee. The trees are in bloom and NYC's most fabulous are ready for a truly outrageous vacation! Neither of them can go anywhere alone without people asking "where's? Where will we all be in one year's time? Now, if only Easy would stop being so irritatingly indecisive and dump Jenny already!

She was seven inches taller than Jenny, with long skinny legs, long skinny arms, and a flat chest. Jenny couldn't help but wonder whether her own clothes would fade and develop character too if she got kicked out ofConstance and sent to boarding school.

GREGG from Mississippi
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