Smart Bitches Trashy Books | All of the romance, none of the bullshit.

In the meantime, this contestant’s roommate was understandably horrified by the events so far, and related to other conference organizers how very scary the man’s behavior had been in the room, to the point where the roommate didn’t wish to sleep there. The organizers took pity on the fearful Mr. Romance and moved his room immediately. Meanwhile, the unfortunate model twice removed made his forced departure a hat trick of drama, as he returned to go after his former roomie, and was once again escorted from the premesis by Pittsburgh’s finest.

And there’s more from the police blotter? But of course. And the item, it is not so blind.

Multiple sources have relayed information about a showdown of Barnes/Ewing proportions - perhaps even Hatfield/McCoy levels.

Seems the daughter of one Carpathian author lost her digital camera. Luckily- or unluckily - the lady’s camera was found—by the daughter of another entourage-escorted author. The daughter took it upon herself in Reckless fashion to take pictures of her lovely lady lumps. And by ‘lumps’ I mean her most intimate of selves. No Other Woman would mistake the glory of that lion, or beaver, as the case may be.

When the Carpathian daughter discovered the images upon the return of her camera, she had words with the photographer’s mother, who apparently assured her that her daughter would be spoken to.

However, the caution and conciliatory words concerning the c-pics did not reach the entourage of the Princess of Fire. A few of them, heavily influenced by the Spirit of the Season, headed for a showdown on the dance floor the final night of RT, and had words with the Carpathian daughter, nearly, according to one source, coming to blows about the whole event, telling the owner of those now-very-interesting pictures to mind her own business.

Later, the rumble relocated to a different part of the hotel, and conflicting reports indicate that Pittsburgh’s finest were once again dispatched to placate the angry. The Carpathian mother was seen in tears over the debacle, and many a conference attendee was choosing sides. Perhaps one will wear blue, another will wear grey, and we’ll answer the burning question as to how well one’s bikini wax holds up during close photographic encounters. Regardless, I am hoping Orlando’s finest are not called to the hotel next year for any reason. Drama is one thing, but requiring the attendance of law enforcement is not necessary.

EDITED 4/22 - but wait, there’s still more!

More than one person has emailed me privately to say, “Not so fast, Bitch!” To which I say, “Say what now?” Never let it be said that Bitches don’t listen.

Seems many conflicting report has arisen regarding who took what photos and of what specifically. One source says that everyone involved needed anatomy lessons and not of the Grey’s variety, as the photo in question was a hairy underarm, and not at all one belonging to a woman (though if you don’t want to shave beneath your armpits, who am I to judge?) Another source says that the daughters of either party weren’t involved at all, and the entire showdown on the dance floor was an elaborate choreographed jam session of some sort… and you know, given the amount of production that went into the dinner and luncheon theatre spectacles, I would almost buy that and pay retail.

And a very friendly source who was so excited that a lush and handsome Mr. P. showed how to work her new digital camera told me that first hand, as her own eyes have witnessed, the daughter of the Princess of Fire did no such fanny-snapping, and that the pictures, according to Ms. Princess herself, were most definitely of an armpit, taken right in front of the friendly source, who emailed me immediately to say, “See how armpits can be larger than they appear?”

Indeed.