we throw best party ever TONIGHT you come BK

I haven’t showered since Brooklyn

Coachella was a hot mess as usual. I could bore you with my play by play detailed account of what i did each hour for all three days, but Ill save that for the blog that pays me. Instead, here are a few of my favorite moments at Coachella. I was gonna write more, but I’m gonna shower and get xexy for the Standard now instead.

-I wake up to Pase loudly talking on the phone around 9 am. He apparently has been up the entire night doing drugs and around 8 am just started drinking. They also apparently lost the rental car in the Coachella parking lot. So, he is pacing around the pool, drink in hand, on the phone with his mom. He later calls his dad. At some point his phone dies and he actually started using Jason’s. We went to leave at noon, Pase was forced to hang up with grandma so Jason could have his phone back.

-I sorta feel someone looking at me. I look up and it’s Wes. (We are not speaking.) I look back away, pretending not to see him. He then moves so he is standing right in front of me. I keep having the conversation I am having, pretending now that he is invisible. He then started to fake throw water at me or some shit. Everyone got sorta awkward trying to figure out who to pay attention to. The night ends, he ends up walking to the car with all of us. I move so hes not walking next to me. I hear someone go, “What’s up with Sarah not talking to Wes?” Sean goes, “Oh they got in a fight on the internet.”

You should go read Missbehave mag

Its kind of boring here. We just got a brand new website. Its really cool. Plus i just found this weird dye for your vag hairs. It comes in holiday colors.

The day Diplo and I Broke Up: by Sarah Morrison

diplo

A mass email of mine got visibly CCed to all it’s recipients. As a certain gossip blogger chose to reply to all a few to many times with my alleged sexual history, we all laughed. I have been told to never address rumors about me. I have been careful to do so. Between some crazy stalker girl that had seen me one too many places with Wes and this, he called it a day. I am surrounded by too much drama. We parted ways due to this. Thanks.

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On 21-Mar-08, at 9:08 PM, sarah morrison wrote:

Cinespace abruptly shut off my email. They are letting me use it just so i can tell you i’m not using it anymore.

So email me at sarah@missbehavemag.com now or my hotmail that goes to my blackberry sarah_e_morrison@hotmail.com

NO MORE SARAH@CINESPACE.INFO

Thanks party people.

sarah morrison
internet queen
 sarah@missbehavemag.com

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Sarah,

I’d love to bend you over and watch you shit all over Diplo’s chest while I eat donuts.

With Love,

Jesus Martinez
DrunkenStepfather.com
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On 24-Mar-08, at 12:19 PM, wes wrote:

dunno if im down wit this, anyway i blocked sarah on ichat
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The real issue is why wasn’t Aoki on this email. You just fuck ‘em and leave em don’t you Sarah. You big heartbreaker. Send Nudes.

Love

Jesus Martinez
DrunkenStepfather.com
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Sarah Morrison hates Coachella

I thought I was fat until freshman year in college. I am not so clear as to why. I think maybe the mirror in my parents’ bathroom was cheap…Wal-mart perhaps? The girls started wearing two-pieces in junior high. I wore one pieces with padded bras, unaware than the padded bra thing prolly made me littler than those ballsy sluts in their cheaper neon bikinis.

Halloween freshman year, me and my BFF tried to leave the house in bathing suits and denim cut-offs. We walked down the stairs, my dad frighteningly unphased asked, “What the hell are you?” Awkwardly, in unison we managed to announce, “Living Colour Fly girls?” I was impressed by how calm he remained. He simply shook his head, pointed at the stairs informing us we were not going anywhere. We went upstairs and changed without a single word exchanged.

I hate Coachella because it’s a giant middle school pool party, replace the pixie sticks with cocaine and literally it’s all the same shit. Bikinis are the new jeans and t-shirts. Jeans and t-shirts are the new “I’m not going in, I am sitting in the car.”

Maybe it’s because my dad looks like a jacked version of Bruce Willis. Maybe it’s because I still feel 13? Maybe it’s because he asked me about getting a Blackberry and admitted to Googling me?Maybe it’s just because I learned no one should ever leave the house dressed as a “Fly Girl.”