We were too dumbstruck by Glenn Close's reconstructed face on Damages to watch the premiere of Kell on Earth. Luckily fictional freelancer Betsey Morgenstern was working as an undercover intern for Kelly Cutrone during filming. Here is her full report.

A Cutrone Above the Rest
By Betsey Morgenstern

While working as a reporter, one often sees the other side of PR, with blond girls named Stefani or straight boys named Andrew calling to pitch stories, arrange interviews, send swag, and block entrance to a fashion show. Once when chasing that boyfriend stealing bitch Whitney Port, I ran into Kelly Cutrone, the actress who plays her boss on The City. We started talking about fashion and PR and how difficult the business was and next thing I knew, she offered me an internship at her company. Apparently she only hires based on instinct and her instincts about me were great. Little did she know that I was really a mole who would be writing about her every move. I may be dabbling in PR, but I'm still an intrepid female reporter at heart.

I report for my first day and I get to meet the crew. There is Kelly, of course, and her business partners Robyn and Emily, who is the kind of girl who says, "You call me a bitch like it's a bad thing," and think that she invented the phrase. She did not, because I did, and I'm suing her for copyright infringement in Nicaragua, because it is the only country where you can copyright inane phrases. At least that's what the patent attorney I blew in the bathroom at Butter told me.

They gave me a tour of the office. It seems that People's Revolution has almost the whole building. Their showroom is on the second floor, the office is on the third floor, and Kelly lives on the fourth floor. Robyn got evicted from her apartment for throwing an old lady down the stairs so she is currently living on the fifth floor and the elderly lady who lives on the sixth is living in fear. Robyn really hates the olds. I also got to meet Kelly's daughter Ava, who seems normal enough even though she is somehow channeling the spirit of Marlon Brando. She also has a nanny named Nana. She is black and silent and must possess magical powers. I am very scared of her, because when she stares at me it's like my soul is on fire and my genitals are on ice. Actually that means her gaze is a little bit like cheap cocaine, so maybe having her eyes tear a hole through my chest isn't the worst thing. It is the cheapest high in New York.

Right away they put me to work because it is Fashion Week and when we arrive at 6am, Kelly comes around the office and puts shackles onto our ankles and swallows the key. She won't poop it out for a week, so we are stuck there until the tents are removed from Bryant Park. Luckily the steel is lined with maribu and they match my outfit, so it's just kind of like a Goth accessory. We're currently working on the David Dolphin show. I have no idea who he is but Kelly says that he's huge in Europe. I thought only shitty DJs and guys with three-inch dicks said that, but after looking at his Spanish collections, I'm convinced that Kelly is right. Dolphin is dreamy and very very straight designer and he's coming to visit.

Robyn unchains my shackle along with one of the blond Steffannys and we go downstairs to clean up the show room in case Dolphin wants to look at all the other clothes People's Revolution is representing. This makes sense to no one but Robyn. Me and Stephané clean and clean and Robyn tells us that it has to look perfect, even though she plans on greeting the client while wearing a do-rag, a black tank top, and Adidas track pants. Apparently he cares more about the space than how women look, which is strange for a guy who loves pussy as much as David Dolphin. When he arrives he doesn't even want to see the showroom so that means all our work was for naught.

The other visitor that stopped by on our first day was Ashley Dupre who is fucking New York's blind governor David Patterson for money and she is on the cover of the Post. She's a close, close friend of Kelly's even though Kelly got fired for not kicking her out of the front row of some fashion show. Kelly says it was the biggest scandal of fashion week but we think she is totally making up all the drama.

When Ashley leaves, Kelly is literally leaning out the window trying to set her assistant Andrew W up with some guy. She says she can tell this guy is gay and has a big dick, but I don't know why she wants to bother setting Andrew up with a girl. When I showed up he told me that my boobs looked great in my dress and was totally trying to hit on me. I think that guys with long hair are gross (unless it's Axl Rose) so I was all, "Ew, no." But still, Kelly is crazy if she thinks he wants a dude.

It's finally time for the David Dolphin fashion show, and Kelly takes me along to carry boxes and the seating chart. Backstage all the models are dressed up to look just like David, who has bright orange hair and could be mistaken for the love child of Annie Lennox and Gwen Stefani's husband. There is one Madrid model, Alexander, who is super hot and has a little tattoo popping out of the neck of his shirt. It says something in Spanish. He is super hot so I ask him, "Hey, Alexander, what does that tattoo say in Spanish?" He just looks at me quizzically but I can tell that he totally wants me. Kelly is off throwing out some photographer for trying to take pictures of naked models (duh, isn't that what photographers at fashion week, like, do?) so I decide to make a move. I grab his ass and he stumbles backwards and crashes behind a monitor, pulling out its plug. I jump on top of him and we roll behind the curtain, I'm trying to kiss him and he's pretending to fight me off. Oh, those Spanish boys are so dirty. They like it rough.

As we're tussling on the floor, I hear Kelly starting to yell about how the show won't start until her monitor is working and David Dolphin is freaking out so I reach out from behind the curtain and plug the monitor back in, crisis solved. When I go back, Alexander has run off and gotten in line to walk in the show, I run up and slip my phone number in my pocket, even as he tried to back away. It's so much more fun when it's a challenge.

The show goes well and we're all marched back to the office, our shackles connected to each other like a well-dressed chain gang. Andrew and Kelly are talking about the show and Andrew is all, "I'm in love with Alexander," and Kelly is all, "I want to set you up with him," and I'm like, "I totally fucked him at the fashion show today and Andrew is totally straight." They both glare at me and then ignore me, like I'm not even there. Kelly calls David Dolphin's "business partner," Gorka Postico, and he says that Alexander has a boyfriend so that Andrew can't date him. Oh, it's so sweet of Alexander to lie so that we can be together. I can't wait for him to call.

Right now we don't have time for boys, because we are hard at work putting together the list for the Shadow Ralph Pucci show. He is the only couturier from Somalia. I think that couture is just anything fancy or one of the really cute outfits from Century 21, but Kelly tells me that to be a real courtier you have to hire a psychic who must channel the ghost of Coco Chanel at a seance, and if she tips her pillbox hat at you from beyond the grave, then you can call yourself a couturier. That's just what happened one warm night in Somalia to the Shadow of Ralph Pucci, and that has made him snobby.

Stef-Any is working really hard at getting the list together and I'm in charge of the RSVP line. We're all really stressed out and another Andrew, Robyn's assistant who is shorter than Andrew Kelly's assistant and twice as straight, is trying to get us to take Atavan to calm us down. I tell him I want some Ritalin instead, and he busts four out of his pocket and crushes them on the desk with a cigarette lighter. We snort them. It really helps because with all this work, nothing is going to get done without some speed. But Andrew thinks that Stepany needs Atavan and he's all "Do it. Do it. Do it," like we're at some frat party. Maybe he's not Robyn's assistant and he's just the office drug pusher. Who knows.

Anyway, I'm working the RSVP line and whenever anyone calls, I put them in the database as coming to the show, whether or not they were invited. I mean, if they got the phone number, they deserve to come, right? Well, Robyn did not like this and made Stephenney redo the list. That is such bullshit. I worked very hard on making that first list and it is just wrong to throw away all my hard work like that. When sTephany gives me the new list and tells me to input it into the database, I decide it's time for some revenge. I put everything in wrong. It looks right on the screen, but when you print it out, it's skipping seat assignments and no one has phone numbers next to their names. It's a trick I learned from the hacker I fucked in a car in front of 1OAK.

An hour before the show and there is a showdown with Ralph Pucci who keeps calling on the phone and asking where the list is and Ste'fany is trying to print it out and it won't work for some odd reason. Hm. I have no idea why that happened. No way, not Betsey. Steffannee is crying because she thinks she's going to get fired after being promoted from being Kelly's assistant to being in charge of something other than answering the phones and scheduling Ava's playdates.

The situation is coming to a head, everyone is screaming and freaking out because there is no seating chart an hour before the show and no one knows what to do. I pretend to care but on the inside I'm saying, "Suck it, bitches!" Nana escorts Ava downstairs to ask her mother if she can go to the fashion show, and Kelly says yes, but she has to sit in the fourth row and very far away from Andre Leon Talley, because he has been known to eat small children if he gets a little peckish waiting for the show to start. It is then that Nana catches my eye and my crotch goes stone cold and my soul sparks a flame. She knows what I have done, and now I must fix it. The great magical beast has awoke and I must calm it before it devours us all.