26 Years of Heartbreaking Awesomeness
ARP Magazine was able to sit down with the exotically beautiful and multi-talented Chelsi, while she was vacationing in Cannes, near the Palais des Festivals. From breaking unique world records to romancing international super models, insuring her assets and authoring four best-selling novels, Chelsi lives a life of fame, travel and intrigue that most of the world will only ever read about in books—hers.
ARP Magazine: So, Chelsi. You rose to fame after your bottom was insured for $3.6 million, out-pricing even the infamous Ms. Tina Turner's legs. After making headlines for purchasing the world's first Booty Insurance, you raised eyebrows all over the world with your ability to Google anything in less than 2.3 seconds, your specifically awe-inspiring knowledge of Twilight trivia, and pheromones so powerful that you left the world of science completely boggled. Now that you've settled for a few months in Paris, what are you most enjoying?
Chelsi: $3.6 million? Honey, you've been fed the wrong numbers. $13.6 is the correct amount.
ARP: $13.6! My word. That's over six million a cheek. You must have an impressive collection of chairs in your home.
C: I built all the chairs in my home, and yes, they are impressive.
ARP: I'd heard rumors that you're a master of carpentry. If history repeats itself, I imagine your chairs are worth phenomenal amounts of money, and that both Beyonce and Jennifer Lopez have contracted you for a few. Did your people discuss with their people, or do you have the pleasure of meeting your bottom-buddies in person?
C: You know, I've never been much of a bottom-buddies kind of person. My chairs are a reflection of a personal aesthetic and standard that's for my cheeks only.
ARP: Understandable. You know how rumors surround celebrities. Now tell me, you set the world record in 2009 with your ability to Google any subject in less than three seconds. There seems to be an obvious connection to your ability to type over 276 words per minute, which caused you to actually snap the A, H and L keys off of your test keyboard after five minutes. Any plans to beat this record?
C: No, no plans. I think I really set the bar with that one. Google is kind of like San Francisco to me, you know? I've totally conquered that city... now it's time to move on.
ARP: [chuckles] Indeed you have. I heard that the 'H' key actually hit the videographer in the left eye when it shot off the keyboard. Has he regained full sight yet, do you know?
C: Oh, Frank? Yeah, he's cool. I stitched his initials into his eye patch with my left hand.
ARP: That's excellent-- a personalized eyepatch. I'm sure he'll keep it somewhere special forever. And your left hand? What made you choose to take a shot at ambidexterity?
C: It's a thing I've been practicing lately. It comes in handy in the bedroom.
ARP: I bet it does! And speaking of the bedroom, your most recent fling is a 25-year-old Spanish model who's recently returned from a shoot in Amsterdam to be with you on your 23rd birthday today! Any special plans for the evening?
C: I'm 26 today.
ARP: My apologies! You don't look a day over 22.
C: Oh now you're just being ridiculous. I'm in Cannes right now, and that's celebration enough for me. Who knows what will happen when the lights go out-- I try not to kiss and tell too much, but I will say that this particular model blows my mind in ways I didn't even know were possible. And I don't mean through the back door, if you know what I'm sayin'.
ARP: You are known for your mystery, which of course makes you all the more intriguing. Well whatever your plans, I'm sure they'll make headlines. Happy Birthday from all of us at ARP Magazine. As you can see, we've crafted this fourteen tiered strawberry chocolate cake for you!
C: Thanks. You'd piss your pants right now if I showed you all the things I can do with a strawberry.
ARP: [spits out water] I'm sure I would, I'm sure I would. Those fruit skills wouldn't be the thing that got you sponsored by Smuckers, would they?
C: Of course not. And here's the part where you throw your imagination into overdrive. Because, well, this is neither the time nor place for visuals.
ARP: Well, Chelsi, it's impossible for a person's imagination not to go into overdrive when they're around you. Your life has been so varied, full of excitement, travel, and riches. What would you say your favorite memory is?
C: Yes, I am a grab bag of talent and adventure, but when it comes down to it I like to live like a normal person. I mean, I'm not the kind of gal that wants to buy a big dog and leaf blower, but I do appreciate the down time. Most of my fondest memories involve sitting around with my friends, guzzling wine and talking shit.
ARP: It's always great to hear that celebrities are like the rest of us in a lot of ways-- just more talented and attractive, of course. I imagine you must have some pretty incredible friends, if they're able to keep up with you. What kinds of qualities and talents do you look for in a friend?
C: Loyalty's always been a big one for me. I mean, holding my hair, telling awesome jokes and buying me a pair of diamond shoes now and then is expected, but are you going to stand by me when I've just chucked a camera at gossip rag junkie's face, or when I'm going off on that Bieber lookalike monkey douche of a barista on 46th and Howard? Will you stick around to talk me down from a crippling bout of anxiety sprinkled with paranoia and the verbal beating you'll surely receive because I can't know the power of my own emotionally charged words? That's what I really need.
ARP: Loyalty is a very important quality, and diamond shoes would definitely be a nice perk. There have been four reported incidents of you having altercations with paparazzi; what happened there?
C: You know, I'm no Bjork, but I do lose my shit every now and then, especially when every drip from US Weekly to In Touch pretends like I'm their new BFF. I know how to party, but at the core I'm a recluse.
ARP: Really? What's your favorite at-home leisure activity?
C: Masturbation. And writing. It's a tie.
ARP: [clears throat] Do you have a preferred toy to use, or are you more of an au naturale kind of girl?
C: Au naturale for the most part. I'm really into genuine self love. There are special occasions, but again, I don't like to kiss and tell.
ARP: Mmm, so you tell me. How do you feel about sex, really? Do you look at it as sort of a "shared between people who really care about each other" thing, or more of a key party situation?
C: For the longest time I tried to put sex on its own shelf in my mind because I thought it would make life easier. But I'm such a fucking romantic that I can't shag someone without knowing them. For me it's about deepening a connection that's already there. I guess you could say that's why I'm all about self love. I love deepening the connection I have with myself.
ARP: It sounds like self-discovery is really important to you. Do you feel like you really know yourself? Inside and out?
C: Not fully. I never cease to surprise myself, nor would I ever want to. I don't like being too comfortable in my own skin.
ARP: Can you elaborate on that? What would you consider "too comfortable?"
C: Too comfortable means not evolving. Not being open to change. Never wanting more than what you have in front of you. I'm always going to want to work toward something new. Like Dan Eldon said, the journey is the destination.
ARP: What are you working towards at the moment?
C: Being more awesome, of course.
ARP: And how could that possibly happen?
C: I'm writing another book. I'd tell you more about it, but I'm legally bound.
ARP: I understand. I'm sure this news will please your fans, though. Can you tell us if it's fiction or non-fiction?
C: It's a mix of the two. I'm at a very vulnerable point in my life, and it's the outcome of that.
ARP: I see. Sounds fascinating, actually. What would you say your greatest weakness is?
C: My greatest weakness is also my greatest strength, and it's that I live in my head 90% of the time. I'm a thinker, an over-thinker, an analyzer, an over-analyzer. The tabloids would have you believe it's 24/7 sex and candy in this skin, but it really isn't. Although, it is most of the time. Do you want some gummi bears?
ARP: I'd love some, thanks. Has there ever been a time when living inside your head, as you put it, has gotten you into trouble?
C: All the time, but it's usually worth it.
ARP: I imagine it is, considering how successful you've been. Not to derail us, but are these gummi bears...margarita flavored? Where did you find them?
C: Oh I made them from scratch. Gummi bears and tequila are aphrodisiacs, did you know?
ARP: I had no idea, but it makes sense. Tequila was responsible for two of my best friends meeting their husbands. And homemade! I take it cooking is yet another one of your talents?
C: Yes. Cooking is therapeutic.
ARP: I believe you were once quoted as saying that you 'cook the way you love, with reckless abandon.' Which brings me to my last question-- if you could give all of the women in the world one piece of advice about love, what would that be?
C: Balls to the wall, ladies. Love hard or not at all.
Between cities
I'm writing this entry on a train ride from Paris to Cannes. Angela and I are attending this year's International Advertising Festival for work. Well, she's here for work. I'm here because I couldn't pass up a trip to Cannes (and my birthday is this week).
Right now I'm thinking it's a shame trains aren't used as much in the U.S. as they are in Europe and Japan. There's so much to like about ground travel: the generous amount of space, being able to visually absorb the quiet spaces between thriving cities, the hum of wheels turning on tracks. No flight attendants.
About an hour into our journey we made our way to the cafe to get some snacks and ended up sitting next to a young man whose popped collar, teeny leather purse and smug expression lent the impression that he'd rather be left alone. Of course, he exploded into a million stories about his experiences as a lone traveler 5 minutes later, pulling out his beat to shit passport to show us his country stamps and everything. Angela seemed less than amused, but I enjoy meeting people who are as excited as I am to see for the sake of seeing.
At some point, after tales of Tunisia and Thailand, we got into the basics. Ramsey, 24, was born in Cannes, but moved to London (where he sometimes works as a chef) because he was tired of running into the same people over and over again. When I told him my name his face lit up like a Christmas light and he said, "I live in Chelsea!"
Meeting people who aren't bound by much of anything always tugs at my insides. As much as I love and depend on the support and familiarity that comes with home life, I think a small part of me will always need to know that, if I want, I can shed what I know and just run. That I can come and go and find and be anywhere.
The sun is starting to set now. White cows are zooming by. Clair de Lune is in my headphones. There is a man on this train that won't ever forget my name. Soon I'll be eating sunlight and celebrating life with one of my most favorite people in the world.
In this little moment, I have no complaints. Can't beat that.
Gods and monsters
Sometimes the hardest thing to do is just to stay human.
- Michael Franti
The words she knows, the tune she hums
Angela and I fought on Gchat yesterday. The argument went back and forth long enough to reach out and touch the desperate territory you fall into when part of your mind sadly and quietly wonders how you'll survive without this person, while the rest of it freaks the fuck out and makes you scream.
It was put on hold then, and when we finally came back around to talking she had purchased me a rose and I had written her a love letter. She came home with kisses, and we spent the rest of the evening working side by side on our laptops. At some point we got the pee chills within a minute of each other. Gaël arrived shortly after wearing an African mask from the Ivory Coast that smelled of smoked fish. He danced a little jig and we all laughed.
I love re-realizing that I can't live without her. Not ever.
Meanwhile, I've gotten over the mysterious flash-flooding. Not going out because of bad weather would mean missing things like the country club we went to over the weekend to watch Gaël and his friends play tennis. He brought his cousin Saruja, who is like a glowing ball of magic love and happiness, and afterwards the owners held a cozy dinner party for us in one of the unoccupied rooms. The plates of food seemed endless, and at some point, after we'd drunk many glasses of wine and discussed the fundamental differences between team vampire and team werewolf, someone brought in a tray of vanilla pudding cups and a tray of chocolate pudding cups.
I was worried that I was the only one lame enough to make the connection, but a few seconds later a photographer named Julien pointed to the desserts and asked which monster I was. I picked vanilla. Also, he later told Gaël that I'm beautiful, and that's a really cool thing to hear coming from a photographer, so, you know. He gets all the points. Ever.
Presently it's 3:30am. Normally I'd be worried about how I'm going to manage waking up for work tomorrow, but all I can seem to think about is how it suddenly feels like there just isn't enough time to soak up everything Paris has to offer.
It’s okay to break a few hearts
I once knew this total womanizing maniac (TWM) who defended his actions by saying something to the effect of, "At least I go for the things I want, when I want them."
Having been wanted and then unwanted, and having had wants that eventually died out, I now know it's unfair to assume that TWMs begin relationships with the end on the forefront of their minds. Most people aren't that sadistic, and probability and intention are two very different things.
In any case, while being greedy is never a good idea, I think it's smart to give your wants (all kinds, not just people) room to shift and change. Maybe they won't alter too much, but probably they will over the course of your life, and if you can't take yourself away from them for just a minute it's likely that one day you'll wake up and wonder why you've been trying so hard for something so dull.
Hey Chelsi, you rock
The look of this picture here might lead you to believe that this is going to be a post about how I once starred in a set of amateur porn videos. Alas, my life's never been that interesting.
Actually, I just needed a picture of my 20-year-old self for a writing exercise, and this is the only one I could find on my travel computer (because I'm hanging out in Paris -- I lied before when I said my life wasn't that interesting). It was taken at a goodbye party for a dude I barely knew, and I wasn't even drunk, just rolling around on the floor with my best friend.
Anyway, a particular circuit of blogs I frequent is mostly made up of women in their thirties, and they've recently taken to writing letters to their 20-year-old selves. I'm only turning 26 this month, but I think officially being in my late twenties (GOD) is reason enough to start talking to myself. This is the age people start getting white hairs and going crazy anyway, right?
(I fully expect to be one of those women who sends out invites to her fourth 25th birthday. Please tolerate it.)
Dear 20-year-old Chelsi,
Thank you:
For not drinking until you were (almost) of age. As it turns out, drunk teenagers are the worst things on the whole entire planet.
For eating french fries at 2am and Easy Mac for breakfast. You haven't truly lived until you've had greasy carbs for every single meal, and there will be plenty of time for salad later in life.
For not taking yourself too seriously. If you had, you probably would've majored in something that guaranteed you a "safe" job with two weeks of vacation per year, an ergonomic set-up and a 401k. Meanwhile, your brains would be in the crevices between the keys on your keyboard.
For approaching most everything with reckless abandon---especially cooking and love. The Dalai Lama would be proud, and the times you're the most passionate are the times that will remain savory, vivid and meaningful in your memory. Even if they end in tears.
For reserving the right to change your mind.
For doing things that make you happy, simply because they make you happy. You wouldn't believe how many people don't know how to do this.
For not dressing like a prostitute. You will look back on your pictures as the years fly by without regretting your fashion sense. Although, it's okay if you want to wear those tight jeans more often. Your ass is amazing.
And most importantly, thank you for being strong enough to survive a gut wrenching, soul crushing, pitch black and too fast ride into what at the time felt like nothingness. If you hadn't, I wouldn't be here, now, realizing more and more every second that I am my own definition of a good person That I am capable of so much more than I once thought.
Love, always love,
Chelsi
A preview of my best-selling novel
[Note: The following conversation has been edited down because I kinda care about your brain cells.]
Chelsi: I’m reading American Gods by Neil Gaiman
: anything to get Twilight out of my head
: because every time I consider a story to write, it has something to do with vampires named Edward
Arwen: why on EARTH would you want to write about anything else?
: CLEARLY THAT MARKET HAS NOT BEEN TAPPED ENOUGH.
C: Seriously, if I were to try and write a book about towels right now, they’d end up being bloodsucking towels that shine in the sunlight.
A: THE BANDWAGON IS NOT TIPPING OVER AND SPILLING DEAD AWFUL BOOKS INTO THE STREET AT ALL.
C: I’m laughing so hard right now
A: please
: please write about bloodsucking towels
: I will give you five cookies to write me a short story about bloodsucking towels
C: SO DONE. IM STARTING TOMORROW.
A: FANTASTIC
C: and I will write it in a Stephenie Meyer fashion
A: oh EXCELLENT
: so you’ll be using the word “pilled” at least 58 times, yes?
C: : “the towel was so effortlessly graceful, there on its rack”
: “and felt cool on my 98.6 degree body…”
A: oh. my good lord.
C: “it was smooth… like marble. I traced the fibers with my tongue…”
A: EW
: SHE IS SO BAD
C: LOL
: I’m crying
A: *chokes*
C: “I knew it would make the most sensual blanket on this sunny day... the first we’d had since June 12, 1943. But it wasn’t until I brought it outside, in the sunlight, that I knew its true power...”
A: “Suddenly I saw a shadow grace the wall. The movement was slight yet so obvious, like that of a pilled cardigan wafting in the breeze…”
C: “the shimmer was like nothing I’d ever seen…”
A: “The fibers sparkled like the dew of a morning flower…”
C: “like a million sparkling diamonds wrapped around my body..."
A: “...Trailing stars into the night sky.”
C: “as the last image I saw in my normal life, it was like going to heaven…”
: “the next thing I knew, I too, was a shimmering, bloodsucking towel”
: "OH, THIS DELICIOUS NEW BODY"
A: “surrounded by a million shining fibers…I was a russet-colored towel, with russet trim and russet fibers.”
C: I JUST SPIT
A: oh man
: *whew
: LOL
: I keep thinking about it...
: how it just…soaks up blood for sustenance
C: "I WAFTED LIKE I’D NEVER WAFTED BEFORE"
: "EVERYTHING WAS SO CLEAR IN THIS 1200 THREAD COUNT BODY"
A: “I wasn’t quite Egyptian…yet not any longer a girl.”
C: THIS
: IS GOING TO BE THE BEST SHORT STORY
: EVER
A: YES, IT IS
: oh but before she becomes a towel, make sure she gives birth to a half-human, deadly washcloth.
C: what should I call it?
: Textiles?
: Timed Cycle?
A: Towelight
: Hung Dry…?
: I do like Timed Cycle tho
: it has DEEPER MEANING
[Later that day…]
C: I have a document in my Google Docs list titled “Threadbare Lovers.”