2) Angelina Jolie. Just get rid of her! She’s way too beautiful, with those stupid pouty lips and all that hair and those sticky-outy hip bones. I don’t care about any of that stealing-Brad-from-Jennifer stuff, or the Ethiopian orphan she adopted, or whether or not she ever made out with her brother. Just get rid of her! She’s too pretty!

3) Keira Knightley. Oh my God, I HATE her! She’s WAY too beautiful to live! It’s bad enough she got to make out with Orlando in Pirates, but now she also plays Elizabeth Bennett in yet another Pride and Prejudice remake? I am sorry, but she’s no Lizzie Bennett. Lizzie Bennett is supposed to be SMART, not beautiful. That’s the whole point of the story—that Lizzie isn’t traditionally gorgeous the way Keira is. GOD! Just get rid of her!

4) Jessica Alba. She was bearable in the leading role in the postapocalyptic TV show Dark Angel. At least we never had to see her abs, because it was too rainy in Seattle, where the show took place, for halter tops. Then along came a little film about an aspiring hip-hop dancer called Honey, and then Sin City, and The Fantastic Four, and it was ALL ABS, ALL THE TIME for Miss Alba. Then her name started popping up in Eminem songs. Do we need this? Do we need the foremost poet of our time waxing eloquent on Jessica Alba? We do not. Get her out of here.

5) Halle Berry. Must I even go on? Oh, sure, she TRIED to look bad in Monster’s Ball. Too bad it didn’t work. Halle Berry could not look bad if her life depended on it. She seems to exist merely to make all the rest of us feel insecure. Buh-bye, Halle Berry.

6) Natalie Portman. I guess you WOULD need to cast someone really beautiful to play Princess Leia’s mother. Still. Did they HAVE to cast someone so impossibly beautiful that she even makes those horrible lines in Attack of the Clones—the part where Amidala and Anakin are rolling down that hill with the stupid cow things—sound smart? Sure, Natalie’s tried to redeem herself by playing indie roles that don’t require vinyl bodysuits. But it doesn’t matter how many colors you dye your hair, Ms. Portman. We still think you’re too pretty to live.

7) Shannyn Sossamon. I had my doubts in A Knight’s Tale. I was like, What’s someone that gorgeous doing living in the Middle Ages? But when I saw The Rules of Attraction, I KNEW: Shannyn Sossamon is way too beautiful to play a girl who guys are dumping and cheating on all over the place. It would NEVER HAPPEN. Get rid of her!

8) Thandie Newton. I could handle her in the Audrey Hepburn role in the remake of Charade, because Audrey Hepburn was also too beautiful to live, so it was only to be expected that an actress playing a role she made famous would have to be that beautiful, as well. And I could handle her in the sci-fi adventure The Chronicles of Riddick, because, basically, she played an alien. But when she showed up as Dr. Carter’s love interest on ER, I knew it was time: Time to get rid of her! What is Thandie Newton doing on TV? She is way too pretty to be on TV! She needs to stick to feature films! And no way would some doctor from Chicago go to the Congo and come back with THANDIE NEWTON. Okay??? Women who look like her DON’T GO TO THE CONGO. Please get her out of my sight!

9) Nicole Kidman. Okay, what is Nicole Kidman supposed to be? Is she supposed to be a human being? Because I think she might be one of those aliens that popped out of its human suit in the movie Cocoon. Remember, the super-shiny one? Because Nicole radiates beauty and light the same way that alien did. Hey, maybe she’s one of those aliens the Scientologists are waiting for, the ones who are supposedly going to come back to rescue us all (well, at least all their fellow Scientologists) before we destroy our planet by abusing its natural resources. Maybe that’s why Tom Cruise married her. Nicole Kidman, phone home! Tell the spaceship to hurry up already!

10) Penélope Cruz. Another alien! Although she isn’t as shiny as Nicole, Penelope is definitely too beautiful to be a human being. Maybe that’s why Tom Cruise went out with her for so long! He THOUGHT she might be an alien, like Nicole, but then it turned out Penelope had simply won the genetic lottery, and is just naturally gorgeous. What’s going to happen when Tom finds out Katie Holmes isn’t an alien, either? Is he going to dump her, too? HOW MANY MORE PRETERNATURALLY BEAUTIFUL WOMEN ARE LEFT FOR TOM TO MARRY/DATE? Why won’t the Scientology mothership hurry up and come to TAKE THEM ALL AWAY?????

Thursday, March 4, French

Whatever. That was so not helpful.

Détente—any international situation where previously hostile nations not involved in an open war “warm up” to each other and threats de-escalate.

God, it would rule if what Lana wanted was détente.

Thursday, March 4, third-floor stairwell

Okay, so I’m here, but Lana’s not.

She said after lunch. I’m sure that’s what she said.

It’s after lunch now.

SO WHERE IS SHE????

God, I HATE this sneaking around. It was SO HARD ditching those guys. I mean, not Lilly, since she was meeting with Ms. Martinez. But I mean Tina and Boris and Perin and everybody. I had to tell them I was coming up here to make a private phone call to Michael.

Which Tina so obviously thought meant I was coming up here to break the news to Michael that I’m not a party girl. She kept going, “You go, girl!” until Shameeka was all, “What are you guys TALKING about?”

Tina IS right, though. I’ve got to stop lying to Michael and tell him the truth. Only I’ve got to figure out a way to tell him that doesn’t give away my dark secret—that I am not a party girl.

But HOW??? How to accomplish this? You would think, for an inveterate liar like me, it would be easy to make up some excuse that would put me in the clear…like that I have to go to some special royal function this weekend.

Too bad no royals have died lately. A state funeral would be a PERFECT excuse.

But since no one’s croaked recently, what about…a WEDDING?

Yeah! I could say one of my Grimaldi cousins is getting married again, and I HAVE to go. Michael would believe me, it’s not like he reads any of the magazines that would cover news like that…unless he tries looking it up on Netscape.

Maybe I’ll just text him. Yeah, I’ll text him right now, and be all, “SRY, HAVE 2 GO 2 GENOVIA 4 THE WEEKEND! 2 BAD! DUTY CALLS! MAYBE NXT TIME!”

Except that ultimately, it would just be simpler if I stopped lying. I mean, pretty soon I’m not going to be able to keep track of all my stories and get mixed up and—

SOMEONE IS COMING!!!!

It’s LANA!!!!

Thursday, March 4, G & T

Okay. So that was surreal.

So it WAS the money. That we’re out of it, I mean. That’s what Lana had meant when she’d said she knew.

And all she ended up wanting in exchange for her silence was to be invited to Grandmère’s party. The one she’s throwing to raise money for the Genovian olive farmers.

Seriously.

I was so shocked—I mean, I’d really expected Lana to ask me for something that would complicate my life a LOT more than a simple party invitation—that I was all, “Why would you want to go to THAT? I mean—do YOU want to meet Bob Dylan, too?”

Lana just looked at me like I’m stupid (so what else is new?) and went, “Um, no. But Colin Farrell is going to be there. He’s bidding on Ireland. Everyone knows that.”

Everyone except me, apparently.

But still. I pretended like I’d known. I went, “Oh. Right. Sure. Yeah. Okay.”

Then I said I’d make sure she got an invitation.

“TWO invitations,” Lana hissed, in a manner not dissimilar to the way Gollum went around hissing “My precious” in Lord of the Rings. “Trish wants to come, too.” Trisha Hayes is Lana’s main henchperson, the Igor to her Dr. Frankenstein. “Though if she thinks SHE’S getting Colin, she’s high.”

I didn’t comment on this apparent rift in their unconditional sisterly love for each other. Instead, I was all, “Um, yeah, okay, two invitations.”

But then, because I am incapable of keeping my mouth shut, I was like, “But, um, if you don’t mind my asking—how’d you hear? About the money, I mean?”

She made another face and went, “I looked up how much those stupid ‘cans and battles’ recycling bins cost online. Then I just did some math. And I knew you had to be broke.”

God. Lana is even more conniving than I ever gave her credit for. Conniving AND much better at math than I am.

Maybe she SHOULD have been president.

I probably should have just let her go at that point. I probably should have just been all, “Well, see ya.”

But I couldn’t, of course. Because that would have been too easy. Instead, I had to be all, “Um, Lana. Can I ask you a question?”

And she was like, “What?” with her eyes all narrowed.

I couldn’t believe the words that came out of my mouth next: “How do you, um. Party?”

Lana’s super–lip glossed mouth fell open at that one. “How do you WHAT?”

“You know,” I said. “Party. I mean, I know you go to a lot of, um, parties. So I was just wondering…like, what do you DO at them? How do you, you know. Party?”

Lana just shook her head, her stick-straight blond hair (she’s never had to worry about her hair forming an upside-down yield-sign shape) shimmering under the fluorescent lights.

“God,” she said. “You are such a dork.”

Since this was unchallengingly true, I didn’t say anything.