“HaraGossip Girl here. You’re one and only silent source into the scandalous lives of Manhattan’s elite. Seen today in the pages of New York’s most salacious tabloids–“A ‘Gossip Girl’ dropout – or did Leighton Meester push her out?” That’s right, yours truly has fled the eating disorder-infested, Tory Burch-worshiping, Hamptons-summering, coked-out confines of Park Avenue for the eating disorder-infested, Tory Burch-worshiping, Westport-summering, coked-out confines of Brown University. Miss me?
There will be a new Asian chick on the Upper East Side, but she’s apparently not my replacement. An unnamed source has confirmed that homegirl’s just part of a ‘new group of random bitchy girls.’ Random, huh? Come to think of it, maybe she is my replacement. Whatever, moving on…
Even though Gossip Girl creator Josh Schwartz is spreading the rumor that I enrolled at Brown during the writers’ strike and failed to tell anyone (I mean, who is he kidding? Has he never heard of a Blackberry?), only I know the reason why I left, and you’re getting the 411 first.
Truth is, during the writers’ strike, I watched the show on reruns and had a life-changing realization. Namely…FUCK THIS. I gave up a budding career in neuroscience research to be set dressing? To be a sidekick to that doughy-faced brunette and that wrinkly Gwyneth wannabe? Aw hell no. I’m going back to school to discover the cure for Alzheimer’s. Right around the time Gossip Girl jumps the shark (prediction: midway through season 2), you’ll find me scooping up a Nobel. Au revoir, bitches!
xoxo, ex-HaraGossip Girl”
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