Shock of all shocks, Beejoli Shah, the girl who dished in a mass email to friends about Quentin Tarantino’s chode of all chodes and the way he sucked on her toes while masturbating, will no longer be working at LA-based… uh… firm? Generate. Other sites, as well as tipsters to this site, report that she was fired (“resigned”) immediately upon coming to work yesterday morning. Either way, the 20-something UC Berkeley grad will no longer be… uh… helping “build full-service development, production, talent and research divisions helmed by industry veterans to provide media companies and brands with customized initiatives that meet marketing objectives and align strategic business goals,” whatever the ever-loving f*ck that means. (To whoever wrote that sentence, please, please, please blow your brains out).
Anyway, this was the predictable outcome (I predicted it, for instance, TOLDJA TOLDJA) of a story that began with an incredibly verbose email to 15 “friends.” I could easily pin this all on her for doing a dumb thing and being kind of cunty, which she was, but that’s also just a convenient way for us web writers to absolve ourselves the responsibility of ruining this chick’s life (my rationalization du jour: if someone had sent me the original email, I probably wouldn’t have posted it, but once it’s already out there, people are just going to keep emailing me the link until I post something about it, and trying to take the moral highground by ignoring it would just be a bullsh*t way for me to feel superior). You could argue she was trying to smear Tarantino, but I didn’t read it that way, and anyway, was anyone really all that surprised that Q-Ball is into freaky-deaky foot sex? I feel bad for her that one of her Friendsicles (or one of the besties of someone she used to hook up with, whatever the case may be) was either dumb or callous enough to forward her email to someone like me. The real victims here are the directors, with whom young chatty sluts might be less wont to sleep purely for story value (bad news, Brett Ratner). For their sake, I hope there’s a compromise, where girls will still hook up with famous dudes just to tell their friends about it, but now will include a don’t-forward-this-to-Gawker-like confidentiality statement in all future mass f*ck sexts.
I’m sure she’s learned her lesson at this point, so there’s no reason to pile on (unless she meets Robert Rodriguez at a Spy Kids wrap party and finds out he’s into that). So instead I’ll simply say, best of luck, Beejoli. I know this is a trying time, but eventually you’ll land on your Britney. Q’s in Brentwood will never be the same.
