Whaddya mean he's not home? : I'm sorry, miss, but you'll have to leave.While Sam was home in bed back in LA recuperating from the ear infection that caused her to bail on her Valentine's Day gig, Lindsay was hitting the mean streets of Manhattan, where she's always been able to score whatever she likes, be it animal, vegetable or mysterious powder.
Not this time. Lindsay's had her eye on pretty little Gossip Boy Chace Crawford for quite some time, but he's a young up-and-comer who's already been warned away from the firecrotch or else risk professional suicide. So when she chased him from party to party he ran like a girl, and when she showed up at his door at 6 AM, he hid under the bed with his Gloworm.
I guess Lindsay's given up any pretense of keeping her shit together. She's out all night, every night. She claims she is emaciated because she's working all the time yet she has no job, unless you count clothes whoring and paparazzi-infested shopping sprees. She and Sam really aren't together anymore except as a joint act, and she can't wait to sink her teeth into some man meat. Someone needs to tell her she's not his cup of tea. In the meantime, run, Chace, run!