Brenda Song

Brenda Song

NORMANI Expensive Taste Test | Cosmopolitan

There’d be some miserable trolls out there who would have frowned in disapprovement at Madisyn’s desire to check in with the online world at any given moment. In fact a few of them — decrepit and wrinkly, like they were here the day Blue Harbor was founded — were inside pretending to give a shit about charity, when all they wanted was to boast about themselves and their millions in the bank account. Okay, sure, Madisyn wasn’t like the most attentive to the goings on in the town, but as an out and proud bisexual woman who attended fundraisers for organizations like The Trevor Project in the past, at least her being here made a lick of sense.

Plus, camaraderie and all for the farm. Winter was coming or whatever that sad homeless man on Game of Thrones said. She didn’t know, she didn’t watch it. Either way, the farm would struggle when the temperatures dropped to what she presumed would be Arctic conditions. So really, it’d be handy to keep in the good pockets of the town’s generous benefactors…

Regardless, it did mean she had to step outside to get some content filmed, away from judgemental looks and all that. TikTok wasn’t exactly the money making scheme that YouTube or her Instagram sponsorships were, but the more you gave, the nicer the algorithm was, and it was a bit of extra cash for fun things like shoes, not necessarily money she had to funnel into the care of the farm. Her camera was ready to go, and she was about to click on the timer when a voice —  hazy and slow — interrupted her.

“I am.” Her tone was a bit pressed as she looked up, scowling at the man, scrunching her nose as she scanned him over, itemizing every single detail about him on offer. He was cute, in a malnourished way, like he was just begging for someone to tuck him up in bed and feed him soup. But it was also mid-morning and he stunk of weed, bloodshot eyes the biggest tell-tale sign of them all. What a waste…

“Is there a problem with that?” 

closed starter for @themadisynhuang, cantwell country club, weissberg law firm charity luncheon.

so maybe he hadn't made a career out of his time on the internet like madisyn huang had, but youtube.com/drzeemo has to be credited for his aspirations to become a comedian. his jackass-esque stunts along with a couple of his bedroom skits (some of which have been immortalized into the vernacular of late millennials and gen z's) were never quite monetized, but it did pave the way for him stepping up on a stage with a mic and a couple of jokes he'd written on the back of a starbucks receipt.

so he thinks he shares some similarities with the influencer who, for some reason, is now living in blue harbor and, last time he checked, looking after a farm. far from the glamour of a beauty guru or a food vlogger, but, well, she's still still on the internet. still somewhat relevant, or trying to be.

"are you filming a tiktok?" he says, approaching the influencer at one of the cocktail tables by the garden. there's light jazz playing on the outdoor speakers, concealed somewhere amongst the foliage. the faint smell of weed clings to the fibers of his wool sweater, eyes just a tad puffy, and confidence boosted for all the wrong reasons or he wouldn't dare approach madisyn first. she could just be checking a message or even her makeup on her front camera for all he knows but the question comes out before it could even pass through either hemisphere of his brain.

BRITNEY SPEARS — Work Bitch, 2013