Trevor-I met Trevor working the door Tuesdays at Cinespace. (Steve Aoki later fired me for “not collecting any money and just talking to boys.” He then had to pay me to just socialize upstairs. So I talked to boys upstairs and they collected more money downstairs, apparently. I got to talk to Trevor more. He was part of the beginning of Hush Hush aka “my first party,” and most others involved. Trevor DJed and made our flyer each month for free. Other DJs who were getting paid, bitched and wrote me crazy emails demanding insano amounts of money that we were not making. Trevor never asked for a thing. Finally, we started to make enough money to pay more of the people involved. The first person I knew deserved it was Trevor. When I say, “pay” maybe I gave him a hundred bucks. He could have cared, which was awesome. That’s Trevor. He’s just an awesome dude, not fronting at all. I talk to Trevor/have something I need to talk to Trevor about at least once a day. I have no idea how that happened. I think it might have been one too many trips to Cactus.

Russ-I woke up hung over one Wednesday morning, after some Tuesday night that ended when it was light out. I check my voicemail and I have this bitchy ass message from some dude who I deemed “Steve Aoki’s intern,” but later became know as “Russ.” The message is super serious and accuses me of stealing some dumb Dim Mak collection sample shirt or hoodie or something, I would never want. Apparently, I “stole” it from Steve’s office the previous evening. I call Steve furious, bitching about his intern accusing me of stealing some dumb ass shit. He tries to defend himself saying “Russ” was told to call everyone from the previous evening. He kept trying to explain that he did not think I/my friends stole the item, but he just needed to scare everyone to find the person who did. I am pissed/offended/hungover and keep interrupting his dumb explanations by swearing at him. I finally scream over him, “I was wearing a 400 dollar dress last night. I didn’t steal your dumb-ass dinosaur print shit” I then hung up, decided I hated Russ, and went back to sleep. “Russ” introduced himself to me the next week. He was neither a 17-year-old intern nor asshole. We have been friends ever since. I have screamed at Russ and “cried at” Russ, when over stressed. One afternoon at Cinespace after crying/yelling at Russ on the phone, I told him to hold on while I could scream at Stuart. Stuart wouldn’t speak to me for two hours. I finally apologized to Stuart. He made me call Russ to say “Sorry,” too. Russ loves me “even though I am crazy.”

(Oh, Trevor gets the same credit for the yelling/crying crazy toleration of me. Both these boys are legit and I love them to death.)

Rony-Rony starts like Trevor. He came to Cinespace Tuesdays. The door dude would “confiscate his camera equipment. I would “hold onto it.” I would go grab a drink upstairs and give it to him. Like Mark, Rony made fun of me everytime he took my picture because I always looked the same. Rony got mad at Julie and me for leaving him at the boring ass Nylon crap and going to “fun places” at SXSW. He then seemed angrier at the fact we returned drunk. He would sort of get mad when I showed up to events; he was in need of Julie’s help on. He had this huge line of drunken dessert of weirdos, in line waiting for their photos at the Filter thing at Coachella. We had just gotten there from LA. He had a mirror, in the corner behind all his stuff. He was too busy too notice I was lying on the ground in front of it, using it to do my make-up for at least fifteen minutes. He should have yelled at me earlier.

Le Disko-Le Disko was one of those kids I saw everywhere, talked to, and had no idea who the hell he was. I had no idea about the DJing or whatever else homeboy entails. We made strange conversation everytime we saw each other. I seriously did not know his name until the last month I was in LA. Frankie Chan told me who he was. I nodded to Franki, realizing i was completely retarded, “That totally makes sense. I should really ask people their names.”

Katy Perry-Never met her. I don’t think she lived in LA, until recently. I secretly hate her. Actually no I actually hate her, no secret. All her Myspace photos are of her and her cat. They are like BFFs. Its like Katy in formalwear with her cat. Then Katy and her cat in matching Pajamas. This used to be me. It is not anymore. My cat died. My roommate killed her/let her out. She got hit by a car. She was my best friend in the entire world. Katy makes me think about that, cry hysterically, and then remember how awesome it was to find my cat dead in the driveway. Thanks Katy!

Cisco Adler-My attorney has suggested I type “pass.”

I ignored everyone else, on said list. I will presume, they are prolly like um sorta famous people Trevor forced to realize they were “born to be writers.” They prolly got busy with thier Facebook’s and bailed.