Sample Journal Entries - Mona Corso (OC)
Sheri Moon Zombie PB

ENTRY 1

I made resolutions, this year. Go, go, go!

1. gain 5 lbs.
2. get married (!)
3. start keep a diary
4. find a house (!)

Here we are, number three! It's January 21, a little late, but this is my diary, and in about a month...hm, I think I can tick it off the list. Let me tell you, I am the worst at keeping resolutions. And I'm a focused person! Really, I am, but something about these little New Year's lists...Work with me, lists.

I'm trying a simple one, this year. That's not cheating, is it? I guess I only have two resolutions, but putting two down would look sloppy. Is it a resolution, or a list of them? I don't know, it's two! That would be so awkward, don't you think? I can't be awkward, I have a real problem with that. It's one of my jobs, to fix that in other people. I forgive them, they can't help it, but when I catch myself not being perfect...ugh. Who is this woman, and why are they paying her? She's stammering at a pizza boy, because she forgot to get his tip out.

That should have been my first resolution: stop being awkward! Fulfill your duties, Mona, gosh. If fixing my weight doesn't help, I'll put it on the list, next year. I've been wasting away for about a year, and ho-hum, it's really dreary to look at myself in the mirror and know I don't have curves. I'll never be able to fill out a gown, next fall. Do you know, I think I lost another pound, at least, since Christmas? What am I going to do with myself? It doesn't help anyone feel less awkward, to live among people who have such a really strange idea of what women and girls are supposed to look like. I really do think it's disturbing beyond belief, how nice people were about how I looked in Eddie's last movie. Even my mother said I looked beautiful, and I thought, who are you? Unless you're blind, you can see my rib cage up there! We have a problem, unless someone gouged your eyes out and flayed me when I wasn't paying attention...No, that's not how things work, sweetie.

Very recently, a set of house rules were laid out for girls in the modeling industry, regarding their weight. If I ever did anything with my life, I hope it was encourage some girls to value looking healthy. Last week, another South American model died from anorexia. I don't want to sound like a public service announcement, but, if you're modeling now, or if you ever have, it's a very serious thing. The ideas people give you, and sometimes the ideas you give yourself, are very, very serious. This girl was fourteen, and my heart goes out to her family, and to every other girl out there who risks going down that path. I think we all do. It is good, knowing some standards have finally been set, but it will take so much more than that, to undo the damage we've caused in the minds of these women.

As a mentor to some of these girls, I'm so lucky to be in a position where, I hope, what I do has an impact. If Miss Texas doesn't need to kill herself, I don't either! Rah! So what am I doing, all over fancy satellite TV, looking like a skeleton? God, Mona, get a grip on yourself. Oh yeah, I have lots of excuses, but I'm old enough to know that's all they are. It's hard, being out in the desert all day. When it's hot out, yuck, I just hate eating. I think I lived off of popsicles that I made Eddie keep in our hotel room, that entire time. Popsicles and fruit salad, mm yum. Delicious, but so awful! I'm such a bad person.

In a more serious way, last winter was when my daddy was sick. Poor Daddy. Gosh, he's...he's such an old guy. He was fifty when I was born, and I remember being so embarassed when I was a little girl. My girlfriends had the cool dads who wanted to teach us baseball with the boys, and chaperone our dances. Daddy started taking archealogical expeditions again, when I was in elementary school, and when he was home, people mistook him for my grandfather. To a ten year old, this was just mortifying. Here was my fashionable mama, and her weird, weird husband. It's sort of funny, now, because he's such an odd guy, but it's hard to remember feeling that way without a lot of guilt, because we got so close to losing him.

It really changes a lot of things, when something like that happens. Eddie and I weren't engaged then, and I was so scared Daddy would never get to see me get married. Oh, not like I wouldn't have dragged Ed into the hospital and made him marry me right there, if Daddy was really dying, but what I really want is for him to see it done right. I want him to see me do it because I'm happy, not scared. That's why it's so important we don't put this wedding off any later than we have to. It is worth making a resolution about it, isn't it? I resolve to get married while my daddy can still walk me down the aisle, and dance with me at my reception. Oh my gosh, I'm such a sap. Shut up.

So that's sort of for my dad, and resolution number one is for my girls. The house is mostly for Eddie, because I think he hates houses, and I don't want to put him through the thousands of boring ones. When I find one, I'll surprise him, and it will be exciting. I'm looking forward to it. When I was a teenager, Daddy and I built this elabourate, fancy doll house. It was the only thing we ever did together, except write my admissions essay for Berkeley. We had the beds with the real sheets, and the tiny half-baked cakes, the tiny cartons of eggs with one broken one, little dogs and different trees in the front yard. I was so sad when we finished that house. The very last thing we did was hang this little deer bust over the little fireplace, and I told him, "Daddy, when I have my own house, you're getting me my own deer."

I don't know if he remembers, but next to a wedding and children, the thing I want him to see most before he leaves is that deer over my fireplace. It would be nice for him to know that I have a memory of him that means so much to me. I know a lot of women (and men also) who are really angry at their parents for not being more involved. I'm not; that's just how Daddy is. So many people don't get a chance to ever do what they really want. He loves me and Mama, but he never missed an opportunity when he got one. I have to admire him for that. I don't feel short-changed at all.

Anyway, resolution number three is all mine, guys. It's all mine. Mama used to accuse me of never knowing what's going on in my own life. She said I do plenty of things, but I don't pay them any attention, and I don't reflect. Mama learned a lot of silly things in the 60s, but this knowing yourself thing, I don't think that's all bad. She has the best memory of anyone I know, and the most diaries, too. Hmm...correlation? She says there is one, and I know one thing: I don't want to miss a minute of this year. This is going to be the best year ever, and not like that silly show, where every week is the best week ever. How could it not be? - I'm going to be married.

ENTRY 2

I’m such a bad mother. If I had my own children, they would be starving in the streets by now, good golly. We’ve been in LA for a week, and I still haven’t called poor Lizzie. She must be thinking I don’t love her. I need to call tonight (tomorrow at the absolute latest) and let her know we landed already.

Last weekend was such a train wreck, with Holden disappearing. Poor Lizzie and poor Holden? My gosh. It isn’t in my place to say anything about his situation, but he’s a constant presence in my thoughts. What he’s going through would be just awful at any age, but they’re all so young. When something so mixed up happens, so early, I don’t see how anybody goes about not losing faith. I meet so many tough little girls, and I don’t know how they do it. I’ve never had my heart broken. I don’t know how anyone survives the stories I hear, because weak little me would just fold.

When I look at people like Holden and Lizzie, I can’t understand why I’ve been so blessed. My mother was such a strong, supportive presence in my life (she still is!) and I can’t imagine my entire life, or even tiny parts of it, without that. What made these kids draw the straws that say they don’t get to experience that? I try to be there for Lizzie, but I’ll never be her real mom, and she didn’t do anything to deserve that space in her life. It’s a really sad thing.

I keep my fingers crossed that Holden will have the guts to be a really sweet dad, one day. Oh, he will be, I think. And what a fun daddy, too! Let’s have a scary little tots group, one day, for his kiddos and my (Eddie’s, too!) kiddos. They can have their scary little action figures, while the big people play those scary huge Risk games Holden was taking about.

Someone much smarter than I am ought to invent some new rules for Risk, to switch things up in the middle of the game. I love Risk, but snore, it’s so long, like Monopoly! Hehe, I love the kids Monopoly. With the tiny theme park pieces? Yes? I’ll never forget one of the ads I did for CK. I had a teeny tiny co-star named Melody, and we played kids Monopoly all day. Her mom was this really awful person who wouldn’t have any fun with her, because it’s work. Oh boo hoo! Cry me a river, babycakes. Work can be fun.

I don’t understand moms who take the joy out of everything, any more than I understand the ones who aren’t around. I don’t! Melody was a cool, bright little thing, whenever her mom would stop breathing down her neck. Poor honey. I’m never going to forget how nervous she looked, when I first walked into the room. I’m not a scary person! I don’t scare kids, golly no, but this girl was terrified. Mom told her I was the big, important pro, and she was toast if she couldn’t be respectful to me. Let me tell you, this little girl was mature beyond all get out, the second she wasn’t afraid I was a big diva monster. I took her and the creepster mom out for lunch, when we were done, and Melody was just a barrel of lovely energy. I didn’t say anything to the mom, because I would never say anything demeaning about a parent, in front of their child, but I always hope I showed her something about not making your kids afraid of the world.

If you’re going to model, and that’s what you really want for yourself, it’s a really terrible crutch if you lack confidence. I feel that’s a big part of the craze for models to die for their jobs. It is a craze, it’s crazy! I like to think that girls become models because they enjoy it. It’s fun! Actresses aside, we’re the only gals who get to play dress-up and stand under a flashbulb all day. But something is wrong, if you wake up every morning with your job making you feel heavy and unbeautiful. That’s not love, and that’s not fun. I wish the girls who suffer this stuff would admit it. Please girls, do. It’s time to rethink your situation, when you’re so unsatisfied that hurting your body is the way to make it “right.”

I’m feeling oh-so-maternal today. It’s Liz and Holden, again! Still! Yesterday, I thought to myself, I’m getting married in nine months. That’s baby-incubating time. It feels like such a long period, and a short one, all at once. I’ll wake up tomorrow, and it won’t be tomorrow, it’ll be September, and I’ll want to know where the time went. I don’t want to scare Eddie, but I really do want a baby. I do! He’s going to read this and be terrified, because little me, I’m so shy about some things. I haven’t mentioned children to him at all. Being a mother is such a deeply personal desire of mine that exposing it to someone I love is about as nerve wracking as…I don’t know! If I wanted to convert to Catholicism and take him with me. Having a child is a strenuous topic, because when you say that it’s what you want, you’re open to the fire of your partner disagreeing. In three years, I’ve terrified myself into never asking Eddie about kids, when I should have said it the first chance I had. I’m such a silly kid, myself. He’s Eddie. He loves me. But he’s Eddie, and I can’t imagine him with a fat little baby on his lap, haha.

Oh my gosh, Mona is super serious. I’m really not, really! This week is making me a little crazy in my head. But Valentine’s Day is just around the corner, kiddies! I want to go somewhere new this year. Hmm, maybe Salem? Witch hunts have always been so romantic. We’re going to be dreadfully boring and go somewhere European for our honeymoon. This is such a traditional wedding. Our friends understand that’s really who we are, but I know quite a few fans must be turning their heads to wonder why they haven’t heard tell of anything monstrous and extravagant. Oh so funny. No black roses and Dracula castles for me.

ENTRY 3

Well, there go my resolutions. They're like cupcakes: I make them, and they look so pretty, and then they're gone in half a day. I'm really losing this fight to stop looking so unnaturally skin-and-bones, you know. Last week (I think it was last week), I came down with an oh-so-persistant stomach bug. It's a mean little thing, I can't eat anything heavier than toast without taking a detour to cough it back up. Eddie must be so tired of sandwiches, but I tell you, I cannot make a dinner that smells like a dinner, to save my life. Mama sent me a whole batch of recipes I want to put out for a test run, too. It's very depressing. I hate the doctor, I mean I'm absolutely loath to go, but if I can't eat...Well, what are you gonna do? These things happen.

I'm trying to stay positive, because there's a show coming up in a few weeks, for St. Pucci. But nothing, nothing wants to be nice right now, I swear. I had to let two of my usual girls go. Shock horror, surprise surprise, they're too skinny, too! One of them, Linda, she's a doll, and I'm keeping her on to help with the makeup for the rest of my girls, but it's really terrible. When I had to let her down, I told her I wouldn't be angry if she walked for one of the show's other designers, if they had a spot for her. She's such a sweet girl, though, and she promised she would rather stay with me than walk. It's nice to know she understands where I'm coming from, it really is. As soon as I stop feeling so gawdawful sick, we're gonna eat a whole Arby's together! Oh baby, that'll be fun.


I don't know where I'll find two more girls on such short notice, though. The other one, Rochelle, she got a bit mean about the whole thing. That's really not necessary. She's a pretty, talented girl, and someone else will pick her up. It's ridiculous, because if she would listen to me at all, she would know I say these things because I've given them some good, hard thought, and I know it's best for her. So many people put their ambitions ahead of looking out for themselves, you know? If no one around you will step up and say they don't want to see you hurting yourself, what's a girl to do?

The next time Eddie is stuck out at the club, I think I'm bringing Linda over to help me look at the spare room and decide what I'm going to do with it. That thing has been a no man's land, ever since we bought this house. We just don't need another spare bedroom, and Eddie has his office down in the oooh subterranian basement. I suppose I could make a library. I'd like to have a real one of those, one day. I could make myself a work room, but gosh, I don't want to. Too much business in the house! That is a last ditch resort. I love my work, but home is where I come away from it. I would put up a lot of Chinese screens and yoga mats, if I didn't know Eddie would call me a sissy, haha. I want it to be something he can use, too, but not as a garbage bin, like he is now. I swear, that room is the "real" basement. We're too lazy to drag the Halloween things down to the laundry room, when we take them down. It's shameful.

The only thing more shameful is my love of The Real Housewives of Orange County. I watch it, I do, I confess. Oh me. I feel terrible for that woman who was "hand picked" by her husband's mother, because of her genetics. My gosh, that sounds so...livestock-esque, doesn't it? Her husband probably does love her, I mean, he dated her own his own, but picked for genetics? So weird, so strange. My mother has some lovely high standards, but she would never tell me Eddie is improper genetic material, even if he was some troll.

Oh, this is it. I can't stand it. I'm going to make some dinner, even if it kills me.