Binn Jakupi Stalks Jordan Barrett

By: Saint Twenty
Saint Know, , , , , , , , , , , , , , Leave a Comment on Binn Jakupi Stalks Jordan Barrett
A quick timeline of Jordan Barrett and I in 2017

May 11th Thursday: Jordan found me running up and down the street outside the restaurant (read Genc Jakupi, Naomi Campbell & Jordan Barrett (1/2) & Genc Jakupi, Naomi Campbell & Jordan Barrett (2/2).
He came to Miss Lily’s to discuss throwing his Frame event. Having already met, we hung out for hours. It was clear to anyone who saw us we were kindred spirits, soulmates, due to our familiarity. People kept asking me, “Do you know each other?”


May 12th Friday: Jordan was suppose to come back. He didn’t, but the place is packed after he posts me all over his Snapchat and Instagram stories. Prior to the free press, the business was dying. Obvi, since the Soho location is now closed. Binn Jakupi, the pathologically lying loser, waits for Jordan Barrett all day, fabricates a story about me, then tells me not to work there. That day I vow to teach them a lesson. And I do.


May 14th Sunday: I’ve already written an email about Binn’s perturbing behavior. I’m scheduled to work this day. Always on time, my co-workers know something’s up, I’m an hour late. Too bad the owners didn’t know me as well, they fire me. Under the impression I’m poorly educated like the others, they don’t realize I’m going to sue the shit out to them. Serge Becker is reported to be glum throughout this entire ordeal, I was his favorite (read Who Is Serge Becker?).
Love Serge, fuck Anna Wintour. She claims he’s scum, but got conned by fake billionaire succubus with no talent. Bitch bye. She failed as a gatekeeper. Wintour is antiquated and racist. Serge took the time to know me, as he’s the opposite of her. Something else happened between them, I’m finna find out…cause the math ain’t mathing Anna.


May 15th Monday: I receive an email to discuss my termination, an attempt to make amends once they realize this was a business meeting. Jordan was going to have Gigi and Bella Hadid host his Frame sunglasses party.
Olatz Schnabel posted this picture of Jordan Barrett, for Binn & Genc Jakupi to stalk him, having no idea who he was prior. Neither brothers have ever had a conversation with me, but thought I was property. Two inbred idiots. Karma has come.
Jordan Barrett held his party at Indochine, after finding out I no longer worked there. Cheyenne Tozzi, one of Binn’s former basic white fuck buddies, lies to Jordan on Binn’s behalf (read Binn And Genc Jakupi Have Zero Remorse).

Olatz Schnabel’s soul was saved by Julian & Vito Schnabel humiliating Melanie ratty Patty Hamrick (read Melanie Hamrick Has No Suitors). That’s always a way to get in my good graces, attack my enemies. Xoxo Athena Photo: Olatz Pajamas

Updated 4/6/2024 12:01am

Why Mick Jagger Was At Miss Lily’s

By: Saint Twenty
Saint Know, , , , , , , , , , , , , , Leave a Comment on Why Mick Jagger Was At Miss Lily’s

Mick Jagger was not at Miss Lily’s to eat. He came for family friend Gabija Mitchell to pitch the below Vogue story- touring with The Rolling Stones in Cuba. They were kekeing in Graceland before open when I walked in (read Mick Jagger Meeting Me).

Honestly, I didn’t like Gabija the duration of my time working there; she’d jock my style low key, on top of being a glorified pimp. Upon meeting she didn’t introduce herself, but asked me to be in a music video. I asked how much it paid. She replied it didn’t, “It’s for exposure.” I declined. Knowing Gabija would profit from using my image, but I’d receive nothing. The other girls jumped at such opportunities, believing working at a celebrity hot spot would be the catalyst for their artistic careers, as dancers, actors, models, but I’m a writer. Growing up well connected, business oriented and different from my co-workers, I refused to be affiliated with Miss Lily’s career wise. It’s a restaurant, period. These girls were naïve. Many of them coming from impoverished, tumultuous backgrounds, viewing each other as family to fill the void of their broken homes. When I celebrated my birthday there, they were astounded that one of my friends possessed a black card.
“Her boyfriend owns half of Upstate New York,” I elucidated on my next shift. Equally shocking was my not paying for anything…I mean duh, it’s my birthday.
These differences would eventually make them resentful towards me, privileges I grew up accustomed to eluded them. Meaning it should be the same for all black people, crab in a barrel ass bitches, after all I’d done for them (read Genc Jakupi, Naomi Campbell & Jordan Barrett (1/2) and Genc Jakupi, Naomi Campbell & Jordan Barrett (2/2). Literally most of the trouble between me and the higher ups, stemmed from my choosing to stand by and defend these idiots.
The floor manager Alessandro (also in a shit ton of debt), assumed I was having dinner there for the freebies. Another racist.

“Alessandro, I’ve been going out to eat since eleven and my friends all make more money than you.” He needed to worry about leaving his elementary school aged daughter at home alone, because he couldn’t afford a babysitter for $10 an hour. I kindly pointed out where his priorities should be (eventually getting him fired). Like the executive chef, he too had a failed restaurant. As a consequence their net worths were in the negatives. I’m talking crippling numbers.

Gabija and I shaded each other. I didn’t follow her around like a minion, nor kiss her ass. At the same time I never told anyone who I knew, or where I’d been, unless someone came in to dine. That’s not my style, it’s tacky. We never had a conversation, my behavior didn’t make sense to her until now. In a surprise turn of events I ended up liking Gabija. Words I never thought I’d say.

She planned this Vice Magazine Bar Crawl for both the Soho and 7A locations, on the day of my high school reunion. I chose the former. Gabija spent most of her time at the 7A location, because they were open late. Also Anna Wintour wasn’t preventing them from having a full bar (read Who Is Serge Becker? for the evidence). The same behavior she expected from these girls, ended up embarrassing her. Gabija promised these places a good time and content. Beyond myself, Jamal, and the other Miss Lily’s Soho squad, no one did anything. There was no turn up, they sat around her scrolling on their phones, like stoned zombies. Meanwhile I’m getting more inebriated, telling Jamal the coke is gone. Get a new bag, you’re scrapping at the dust coating the plastic, enough!

Unfortunately the 7A girls outnumbered us. On our next shift it got around that 7A was boring af. Gabija agreed, turns out she’s looking for a good time too. We finally understood each other. Gabija invited me to hang out with her that night after work. Ariel, one of my ride or dies, answered for me. Letting Gabija know I’m her friend, “Sorry she’s not going anywhere with you.”
At this point Ariel was unhinged and ready to fight. These two were mortal enemies. Having not been at the crawl, Ariel didn’t understand how our newfound amicability transpired, nor did she care. Despite my explaining the business component of Gabija’s crawl, she wouldn’t budge.


From there on out Gabija and I always greeted one another warmly. Turns out we have the most in common out of everyone, but didn’t know it until it was too late. Divided by cliques akin to Capulet’s vs. Montague’s, the beefs had gone too far for us to shake shit up by joining forces. Also she left that place before me. I’ll give the Miss Lily’s girls one thing, even if we didn’t like one another, we unified to drink on our shifts. Never snitching, always covering for each other. For that, I fuck with them heavy. Make things up where? You bitches are mad and gonna stay mad. Athena Via: Guest Of A Guest, Vogue & Daily Mail

To see Graceland: https://guestofaguest.com/directory/gabija-mitchell/72556

Updated 2/22/24 4:19am

Binn And Genc Jakupi Have Zero Remorse

By: Saint Twenty
Saint Know, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , Leave a Comment on Binn And Genc Jakupi Have Zero Remorse

Imagine working at a restaurant job (not your career), for two employers who aren’t even from here to stereotype you. Binn and Genc Jakupi are inbreds from a war torn country, who came to my home, thinking all black people are ghetto foster babies. That’s what you told Naomi Campbell about me right (read Genc Jakupi, Naomi Campbell & Jordan Barrett (1/2) and Genc Jakupi, Naomi Campbell & Jordan Barrett (2/2)? I’ve never had a conversation with either of them, only Serge Becker (read Who Is Serge Becker?), because he’s not a prejudice asshole. Adding insult to injury neither of these men are Caribbean, they profit off appropriating my culture. If you think black people are such scum, go make money selling Albanian food. These two are gutter trash. Fun fact, I grew up more privileged than both of you. Know your fucking place. That’s why telling stories of growing up is my fave.

Binn Jakupi is one of the most self-absorbed, vile, misogynistic, evil, racist people I have ever encountered. He’s ungrateful. Not only did he rub his genitals against my backside, he put his hand up my dress and touched it. Fortunately I wore underwear that day. Not wanting to hurt his brother Genc, who was kind to me until Binn manipulated him, I omitted it from my lawsuit. In fact my complaint was about him harassing, then firing my friend Tessa, after she rejected him. Binn fooled many people, but not me or Ariel. We never liked him, sweaty, awkward, weird, we couldn’t stand him. After blacking out and leading him on, I literally stopped drinking for a month. That’s how revolting I found him. I don’t even do that shit for dry January. It was clear to anyone with eyes I was wasted, hello I tried to make out with Dua Lipa’s mom in front of her husband. Even Jourdan Dunn knew I was blato that night (side note I appreciate Jourdan being rude to that dreaded server, she was delusional about her appearance, Genc hooked up with her…yuck).
Binn doesn’t care about anybody but Binn, with little brother Genc following behind. As the hierarchy of their culture teaches.

The Jakupi brothers not only stalked, harassed and followed me for years, they fabricated stories about me, from my upbringing to my occupation as an escort. They didn’t expect me to be a well-connected bitch from the Upper East Side (growing up with Emily Meade, Julia Fox, Matt Sukkar, Jackson Pollis, Asap Relli etc…). Binn and Genc Jakupi didn’t know their lies were going to be countered, letting my race, gender and employment at their restaurant define me. God forbid artists and entrepreneurs work in restaurants, unheard of (I’m being facetious). Their constant abusive behavior forced me to make my social media public, to tell the truth. The audacity of them breaching a contract, tormenting me, then thinking you could sue me…two fucking remorseless clowns. I paper trailed you. They also stalked my friend, preventing her from getting jobs too. Finally stopping when my ex-boyfriend Mick Jagger got involved. I met him at Miss Lily’s.

Niggas like you are the reason women turn to black magic for empowerment. You don’t get to spread false narratives about me, white trash. Black women aren’t here for you to objectify, I’m not the improvised girls who believe a restaurant would be the catalyst for a career. You’d have known that if you spoke to me like a human, instead of judging me down to my outfits. Miss Lily’s was sinking until Jordan Barrett posted me all over his Instagram and Snapchat. Instead of being grateful Binn decided to lie, have Olatz Schnabel post a throwback of Jordan, to find out who he was, then waited all day for Jordan’s return (I’m assuming to threaten him). Jealous that I wouldn’t give him the time of day. One of us was loyal to Genc and it wasn’t Binn. When they realized I was discussing Jordan throwing his Frame sunglasses party there, with Gigi & Bella Hadid hosting, they tried to backtrack, rehire me. Too late, sued. I’m a grown bitch, not anyone’s property. That’s why that same location closed permanently.
Mind you the executive chef is a white man in debt $3,000,000 from his own failed ventures. Not the Jamaican chef who won Chopped three times. This says everything about that plantation. You failed your chances at redemption. Enjoy your time, didn’t expect me to be a Goddess either. Karma. Xoxo Athena. Via: BFA

Kelly Rowland And Lala Anthony Are Trash

By: Saint Twenty
Saint Know, , , , , , , , , , , Leave a Comment on Kelly Rowland And Lala Anthony Are Trash

When I saw Kelly Rowland I freaked the Fuck out. I lovedddddd her, but the rules at Miss Lily’s were clear: NO FAN GIRLING! Meaning treat celebrities like every other guest. Allow them their privacy, don’t scream, don’t ask for autographs, don’t take pictures etc…thems the rules and if you were caught breaking them you’d get reprimanded. So I stayed as calm as possible, coming off apathetic when interacting with her. However, at every possible nook, cranny, service station, I was losing my shit! This was a childhood idol, a chocolate queen, her body was bomb, I liked her better than Beyoncé growing up (when in Destiny’s Child) plus unlike B she could act. Shade all the way, I loved Carmen The Hip Hopera (that soundtrack was lit “You tryna act like I’m not a cop, you can bring the cuffs if you would like to if that’s your style”…let me download that right now), but that’s as good as it gets for her. Jennifer Hudson was Dream Girls, period.

Kelly came in with Lala Anthony, her son, and Lala’s cousin, Po (who I loved when Lala had that show), we gave them two tables, instead of the one they all fit at. I tried not to stare and drool when looking at Kelly, biting my tongue multiple times to keep my cool. At one point I almost said fuck it, telling my peers I think she’s getting upset I’m pretending she’s not major! They reminded me to follow the rules despite my instincts, so I did.

It started off a mess, they wanted ackee and salt fish (add dumplings, the gray ones, with some steamed okra and you have my favorite Caribbean meal). This was a weekday, that dish is strictly brunch. Meaning it’s only prepped for the weekend, Chef Andre (two time Chopped champion) told me NO. Persistent as always I groveled, begged, this was Kelly Rowland, please oh please. Side note I’m a really good beggar, everyone’s told me that since middle school, I turn my big doe eyes all sad and large, I pout, I plead, works like a charm. Chef Andre relents, duh, my talent is top tier. After going back and forth, because Lala wouldn’t take no for an answer the first hundred times, I tell them the good news.
“He’ll do it, but it’ll take half an hour.”
Meals have to be prepped based on time of day and type of service. They didn’t just have it lying in wait. After 15 minutes minimum, I kid you not, taking time away from my other tables, Lala says never-mind.
”But he’s already started it,” I inform her, explaining everything. She didn’t give af, she made me go back and forth a million times, just to be difficult. Then, then, Kelly pays.

The bill totaled $250, the standard 20% would be a $50 tip. Me being me, people usually left 22%-25% since I’m honestly an exceptional server. Miss Lily’s was my first serving job, prior I worked for Danny Meyer as a server assistant, possessing a fine dining hospitality background where the others had not. I brought in the most tip money, the managers used it to fuel the staff, mentioning it at pre-shifts. That’s why everyone quit when I left. Everywhere I’ve gone after I always brought in the most tip, people have left me more than half the bill. Nope not Kelly, she left me $20, making sure to say bye have a good one, before I saw the receipt. Mind you she used a fucking black card (her hands are soft af btw), to leave less than 10 %! A fucking horrific, high maintenance bitch. Tacky too. Everyone was pissed. Apparently Beyoncé liked everyone acting normal and tipped beyond normal. Like a legendary one, spoken about years later. I wasn’t there when Beyonce came, but a lot of the others on the floor that night were and expected the same from Kelly.

Long story short, she’s a terrible person, just like Lala. I’m not taking advice from an Uncle Tom defending another one. I have Chris Brown demonic ass (he literally has a demon attached to him) on a troll account. None of these people change, they support disgusting behavior, I have over two years plus proof of it. Then they lie pretending they didn’t know about Harvey Weinstein and Jeff Epstein, most of them are full of shit. That’s why I’m here. Times up. The devil always come to collect, you always reap what you sow and it’s my time. For once, I’m ready. Via: Access Hollywood

Living Proof To Leave Your Comfort Zone

By: Saint Twenty
Saint Know, , , , , Leave a Comment on Living Proof To Leave Your Comfort Zone

Take the risk and leave, let the universe catch you, co-creating your path. Staying in the same place, stagnant, is a sure way to go nowhere. I’ve lived so very many lives. I remember working at Blue Smoke/Jazz Standard, promising myself I wouldn’t be one of those people who stayed for years and years. It’s easy to get complacent when the health care is phenomenal, the money is good, the people become a pseudo family, but I’m from here so I didn’t need that. I noticed rather quickly it was the family aspect keeping people from evolving. In the same time they stayed there for years more (when I reached four, I knew it was time to go), I worked in different places, including a restaurant where our regulars were celebrities. I’m forever thankful to myself for doing so. It led me on all sorts of adventures, added to how major I am. All of those people came here to make it big, but part of that means changing, which they were too afraid to do. Marrying each other, making a job their world. Thanks to leaving, taking a chance, aligning my actions with my goals, I met Mick Jagger (formerly my favorite day of life). Now I’m going to be all the things everyone there dreamed of, wealthy, famous, free.

You owe yourself a chance in this one life to shoot for the moon and land in the stars. Comfort zones kill. If you’re in the same place you were a year ago and you’re still unhappy, take the risk, LEAVE. The world is large, waiting for you to take charge of your destiny. Are you going to stay where you are? Via: Powers Of Book

Joints Are Outselling Cigarettes

By: Saint Twenty
Saint Now, , , , , Leave a Comment on Joints Are Outselling Cigarettes

Slowly but surely we’re coming around that mountain. Apparently marijuana cigarettes are outselling regular ones for the first time. Listen, as someone whose smoked both, the former is healthier and far more beneficial. There have been so many times where I was angry, or freaking out, smoked a bowl and literally just calmed down. Then I was able to shift perspectives, not be so overwhelmed.

A drink is good too, love me a stiff drink, or some wine. Both have stopped me from dragging people, especially at Miss Lily’s. The hardest thing I had to do there was 30 days of sobriety, everyone kept tempting me, but I persevered. Legalize it everywhere. Artist: Little Savage Design

Chanel Iman, My Most Regular Regular

By: Saint Twenty
Saint Know, , , , , Leave a Comment on Chanel Iman, My Most Regular Regular

Listen, what you’re not going to do is come for Chanel Iman, both her and soon to be ex-husband Sterling Shepard were regulars at Miss Lily’s. Chanel more so than Sterling, I can’t think of a time she was there and I didn’t serve her. That being said, I’m all for chivalry except when Sterling dined with us. Literally they would both reach for the bill, with him winning every time and my stomach would drop, because Chanel tips PROPERLY and he doesn’t. We were lucky to get 10% and he wasn’t above leaving coins and crumbled ass dollar bills. Whereas Chanel left 20% and above thank you very much. So with all due respect Mama Shephard, you’re lucky she’s the mother of your grandchildren, she’s drop dead gorgeous, has class, is humble and well-mannered. Traits she’ll pass down to those kids, leave that woman alone, especially since Sterling is perpetuating a stereotype of black people being bad tippers. Chanel you were always a joy and my most regular, regular.
TIP YOUR SERVERS AND SERVICE WORKERS PROPERLY, OR DON’T GO OUT, IT’S CALLED ETIQUETTE. Unless it was poor service, then tip accordingly, don’t reinforce low quality work. Via: Chanel Iman Insta

My History With Sophie Turner

By: Saint Twenty
Saint Know, , , , , , Leave a Comment on My History With Sophie Turner

Now that the baby’s born let’s get it popping. Sophie Turner, how did we get here? From the top please. I use to adore Sophie, believing she was one of the most beautiful creatures I’d ever seen…on screen. Cut to Miss Lily’s, Joe Jonas and his group DNCE came in with some random blond girl. Of course I was his server. I use to have the biggest crush on Joe, but at this point I was dedicated to my false twin and in enough drama with men.
Joe Jonas couldn’t keep his eyes off me, devour is an understatement. To be fair I was wearing the same outfit I had on with Jordan Barrett and that red pencil skirt was skin tight. Every time I turned around his eyes were on my ass, he was oogling all of me, but my ass was his favorite. It made me burn inside he was so obvious. I was honored, but figured he was on a strange date since mad people were there. The random blond was chatty, complimenting me, just kind, but tbh she looked really old. Several weeks later Joe was engaged and I was confused, like he was just eye fucking me and with some girl. Turns out Sophie looks different sans makeup which is why I didn’t recognize her. She was the random blond! Stunned, stunned by her face irl. This is why she not only made Joe post this Miss Lily’s picture for her birthday in 2020 to antagonize me, but sided with the Kardashian Jenner West coven. She’s mad I didn’t recognize her and that her man was openly into me.

This photo is outside of Miss Lily’s 7a, not Soho where I served them. Leaving me in a predicament not truly knowing if she’s racist, or evil, but really just jealous. At the end of the day you’re one of those girls who fights girls on Jerry Springer over a nigga. GROW UP. I was respectful even though I didn’t recognize you and you’re lucky I’m a girls girl, because Joe Jonas looks hot af in person and in pictures. Take it up with him and not out on me. He’s the reason your kids are safe. I want to like you, you’re a pisces, but you proved to be a bozo. There’s no reason to side with abuse and then add to it, if you’re really about women’s empowerment act like it. After blasting you like this we might be even, we’ll see. You owe me an apology and a thank you for not bagging your man sis. Congratulations on baby number two though Joe. Ps Frankie is soooo cute, he’s growing into his own!!!! Their parents don’t make ugly babies. Via: Joe Jonas Instagram

A Twenty Dollar Lesson

By: Saint Twenty
Saint Know, , , , , , , , Leave a Comment on A Twenty Dollar Lesson

Blessed to have plummeted into drug addiction at a young age, instead of as an adult. Have you ever lost your mind? Been on the brink of death? Descended into madness? I have. Had it been later in life I’d have more to lose and wouldn’t be as wise, or street smart. For instance Kiki, this sloppy girl with an enormous, gelatinous ass had no idea what she was doing. Older than me, she’d never seen cocaine until she was an adult, believing herself a badass for doing it.
Kiki wasn’t cute, her dreads smelled nice, but were raggedy and thanks to Genc Jakupi she was obsessed with me. Despite having spread her legs the one time, before I arrived, he loved me not her. FYI this girl stole from the tip pool, was a hater to the actual pretty girls and was not well liked, or kind.

Both standing at 5’9 (she made someone measure us back to back) she constantly compared herself to me, once remarking that my torso was longer than hers, wishing for my body proportions. True. I was also a fraction of her size, better dressed, bigger boobs and better looking. She loathed that I was stick skinny with a big ass, she also commented on my upbringing and diction an uncomfortable amount. Still it was us against them, we spotted each other when stealing drinks, lied to management, and eventually partied together. Kiki hated me, admired me, respected me…it was a complicated relationship. When I left she was one of 8 people to follow, you didn’t have to love, or like me, but even the people jealous of me respected me. I ran that place properly is why.
One day Kiki and I split a gram. I watched her tables while she went outside to meet the dealer. Afterward we bee-lined to my model agent friends house in Williamsburg, then Freehold, doing key bumps in the photo booth. Here’s where she made a critical mistake:
The night ended and she told me to save the coke…

Amateur hour. She had an outline of my narcotics history mind you.
As soon as she let me leave without taking her share, I knew she was new to this, not true to this.
The next day, Saturday, my day off, she messaged me to meet her at Miss Lily’s “with the goodies.”
I didn’t respond. Devoured the bag is an understatement. By the time I received her message I was on a bender with my roommate. Not only did Dani help me finish that bag, we polished off one she had, and were on our way to my model agent friends apartment for more. P.s that night was MAJOR.

Sunday, our next shift together, I handed her $20 bucks.
“What’s this for?”
I simply replied “It’s gone. It’s all gone.” Then she understood.
I didn’t apologize, nor did she expect me to. Kiki knew it was her fault. Never, ever, leave your share, especially with a connoisseur. You either take your half, or get your money asap. Period ma.
Now I’m free of addiction, as well as recreational use. Talking about bring the goodies, that sh*t was gone with the wind. I have zero regrets. If you’re still struggling I believe in you, it may take time, but you’ll make it through. Artist: Thom Minnick Art

Jack James, Me, The Beatles And The Stones

By: Saint Twenty
Saint Know, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , Leave a Comment on Jack James, Me, The Beatles And The Stones

Before I go into why the Woods are my favorite Stones family (in tomorrow’s article), restoring my faith in the band, I must tell this one. After winning my lawsuit against Miss Lily’s I got a part-time gig at a pizza place in Park Slope, Amorina. I was the phone slash delivery girl, organizing all the take-out and pick up orders. The staff like the restaurant was small, and run by an insane woman named Ellen. Italian, hot tempered, miserable (cuckquean) and out of her mind. This bitch woman literally held my last check of $500 hostage after I quit. Mind you, I left due to an underserving tirade, which she was known to do. Her own daughter commented her mom was off. She’d just snap out of nowhere, then act like everything was normal. As she’s refusing to give me my money, I’m making plans to attend my missing friend Robbie’s memorial. When I started the job he disappeared, causing me to leave in tears one shift. She’d been with me through this traumatic ordeal and didn’t give af. I had to pull up to her restaurant TWICE to get my money. Unhinged. At least she apologized to the staff after I read her ass for being bogus af.

This is where I met Jack James, a beautiful, tall, chiseled musician/model hailing from Texas. He loves Elvira, made me laugh until I cried, and like myself is a classic rock whore. We were kool and the gang until we started reppin our sets. A rivalry older than Bloods VS. Crips-The Beatles or The Stones, which is the better band? He barely let me speak, making his opinion fact before storming off. An attack akin to stepping on someone’s motherfucking kicks. Indignant was an understatement! Affronted I harbored this resentment until I got him back for his Harry Styles boa dig (a slight tiff that turned into a WMag social media post, with designer Marc Jacobs inserting himself). I never said I was above it, I’m petty. Being a Stones fan is a lifestyle. In my eyes he came for my entire existence! The Rolling Stones influenced me more than anyone, ever. Without them I’d literally be dead. Their music was the only thing that kept me alive my first year at Emerson College. Deep in the throes of addiction, nothing but cocaine, coffee, and cigarettes as sustenance, I lived on the verge of two worlds. I became skeletal in frame, going from a Double D to a D (boob weight never regained); my friends remarked I was on a different drug every time they saw me. My friends told me verbatim I was going to die. It was that bad, I just kept cutting straws, snorting lines and doing me. While the Stones had always been my everything, it was that year I needed them most. Just one more song to keep me going. My ringtone was Cocksucker Blues (the tour rehearsal version), that’s how dependent I was on the music.

Don’t get me wrong I fucking love The Beatles, LOVE. Had Jack let me expound my answer would have been this: you can’t have one without the other, it’s symbiotic. One’s rooted in pop, the other in blues, yet they’re both rock bands. The Beatles who invented albums and music videos (easily the most musically innovative band of all time) sing about what they wish the world to be, The Stones sing about it’s actualities (both groups have range, this is the same generalization of you can bring the Beatles home to your parents, not the Stones). For those using sales as a determinate, name one Stones song you can play for children? I was singing Yesterday in elementary school. The Stones have more soul, I can dance to their music, it’s hood relatable for the ignorant who think rock is white people music (black people created rock n roll), they’ve always credited black people, they created the template for the musicians lifestyle (sex, drugs, rock n roll), they created the “bad boy,” they broke gender, fashion, and race barriers/norms, challenging the status quo at every turn, changing the cultural landscape. The Stones dressed in drag when it was illegal, influencing everyone from the Chili Peppers to Nirvana to do so. I’m a revolutionary, because The Rolling Stones made me one. But, but, they need The Beatles, it’s the Yin to their Yang. You can’t have one without the other, nor do we want to. It’s the perfect musical balance.

Cut to now and gorgeous Jack is literally in a band with Sean Lennon’s wife Charlotte Kemp Muhl, and I dated Mick Jagger. You can’t make this shit up. You truly, genuinely can’t. So next time Naomi Campbell decides to lie for two white men appropriating our Caribbean culture for profit (Genc and Binn Jakupi), before Georgia May Jagger, her equally idiotic siblings and affiliates make assumptions (based on race), do make sure it’s someone who isn’t well connected. Should I continue on how many people grew up with me, displaying you’re liars and racists or…? Who did Melanie Hamrick know before raping Mick & murdering L’Wren Scott? Exactly. Jack, Daddy, are we the guardians of rock n roll? FYI he also loves the Rolling Stones, don’t come for him. Via: Jack James Busa Insta, Uni_Loonies & Riley And John