Yesterday a spy sent in a Jason Preston sighting to Gawker. The tipster reported Preston, Marc Jacobs's ex, was carrying "loads of heavy shit," which might indicate he was moving out of Jacobs's crib. Or something. Anyway, Preston saw the stalker sighting and somehow got a hold of writer Ryan Tate's cell-phone number, which he called last night to clear the air about his baggage. He left this voicemail:
Ryan, what's up, this is Jason Preston calling. Umm, I'm calling on behalf of, I guess the column or whatever in Gawker.com, I guess you sent something in saying you saw me on the street today with a whole bunch of shit.
First of all, I just had my gym bag, that's all I had, a little, small, little Louis Vuitton gym bag.
And number two, my boots, they are $2,0000 fucking [unintelligible brand] boots, brah.
And three, as in the words of Lil' Kim, you should get your facts straight or Shut Up, Bitch, because you don't know what the fuck you're talking about.
Wow. Our voice mailbox is so jealous.