BLIND ITEM: Sicko

So: which, ahem, Dangerous Player called in sick for field hockey practice this afternoon, leaving the rest of the team to forbear?

Not to worry, ma-petite-jockette, certain underclassmen were more than happy to pick up the slack. But then, you must have suspected as much.

And Mooreover, which henchskank/blitchbot/[insert your own euphemism HERE] was moore than happy to take stick in hand? The playa in question was overheard in the girls’ locker room regaling her teammates with stories of just what it was that had kept her fearsome leader otherwise occupied.

Hint: okay, yeah, it was an illness. Of a rather . . . delicate nature.

C'mon, girl—haven't you ever heard the expression, "no glove, no love?" These things are preventable, folks!

Yeesh.

And now I’m feeling sick.

Bad Girl Gone Good Girl Gone Bad

Did you follow that, folks? No foolin’: Everybody’s favorite model of rehab-chic, Regan Stanford, was, some might speculate, back in her cups at last night’s gala.

I mean, girl was certainly into something.

For someone who claims to drink strictly virgin, she sure did get sloppy. My sources tell me that Jeremy Brown propped her up and defended her to Vice Rector Andrews, who was all kinds of pearl-clutchy and etc. Something about a bad reaction to medication.

Uh huh. Sure. Whatever you need to tell yourself, Reegs.

Whatever.

But as long as we’re on the subject of prescription pills? Caitlyn Pierce? Needs to cash in her one-way ticket to the Valley of the Dolls. It’s not cute anymore, sweetie. And whatever you’re on? Is starting to make you bloat-y.

Blech.

location: blog central
energy source: Vitamin Water, spiked. For the happy-medium mellow.
reading: Defamer