Hi, my name's Jeffree Star and in case you didn't know I'm really really popular.

[sorry if we can't all be unoriginal] but I have a mold to break

What can you say about Jeffree Star that hasn't been scrawled in blood and other assorted bodily fluids in dirty bathrooms all over the southern United States, or said by the whorish super promoter himself, or written in countless internet paparazzi blogs, or dreamt about by millions of teenagers and just as many adult closet mannequins?

How about he that blasphemously he calls himself "Jesus Christ with fake eyelashes" alone has created a massive network of a three hundred and fifty thousand scene and punk kids all over the globe; that he has almost 15 million profile views in less than a year, that he has had an enviable 13 million music listens in the past 11 months alone; that he does makeup for the Hollywood elite; and that maybe he's more down to earth and approachable than most would think.

Half super bitch and half mega cunt. He is a self admitted boyfriend thief and makeup addict, he is a photo junkie and designer clothes slut, he is brazenly sexual and openly subversive; he has become a role model for the new post 911 America.And Post 911 America is where we are at. Haters beware, there's more to Jeffree Star than makeup and well coiffed hair, more than the space age Teflon personality from which he deflects bullets and bombs faster than super heroes in the movies.

Easily one of MySpace's most identifiable names, Jeffree Star, 21, carries the torch as an "internet celebrity," "the queen bitch in the underground" but with an upcoming record and television show, it's only a matter of time before 'The Queen of The Beautifuls' shatters the underground and emerges as the new face of exquisiteness in American pop culture. Star has also been quite an avid reader since disconnecting himself from the Hollywood club scene, which played a vital role in jump-starting his career as a celebrity makeup artist at age 16. "I always had a fake ID," remembers Star. "Now I'm already over it. It just gets so old. Everyone's like, 'Oh, I love you!' Then when you walk away, they're like, 'Fuckin' bitch!' It's like, 'Gimme a break!'

Jeffree Star wasn't born beautiful. He scratched, screamed and screwed out an existence from the back woods of Deliverance amidst the surfers and tanned plastic whores of rural Orange County in California. Star was able to mollify his obsessive complusive disorder with his mother's makeup and fineries and eventually this quiet desire for beauty got louder and louder; from this grew his unnatural and many say unholy desire to take over the underground. On weekends, Jeffree hit the Hollywood clubs, where he would dress in outlandish mini dresses and 9 inch high heels. This is where he met Celebrities that loved his makeup work and tapped his number into their cell phones. While other kids where studying and doing homework, Jeffree was in mansions and music videos, doing makeup and making tons of money. Star soon discovered stardom; beautiful girls purred and whispered at him; he had a better body and looked hotter then all of them. He was special and beautiful. Always the consummate hetero fucker, whether it was in the locker room or late at night in his locked bedroom, Jeffree Star kept his boy experiences to himself and smiled just before bed, empowering himself with power.

Eventually, his club going discipline worked to his advantage; suddenly everyone knew his name. Everyone was everywhere, claustrophobic, smothering, and strangely and perpetually, comforting. Everyone wanted a picture taken with him and everyone wanted to know where he was going next. He now attends shows and kids maul him. He gives out more autographs than bands, and he spits more profound makeup advice than MAC or Revlon.

Jeffree Star rise to fame has long since given his solemn nod to Andy Warhol's 15 minutes. While the internet took over the world in 2000, his stardom has grown since then and continues.

The latest news for Star is a soon to be announced TV show, a brand new album and so much more. His songs have been played on MTV shows like "NEXT" & he guest appeared on America's Next Top Model, appeared in magazines such as Swindle, Venus, Frontier's, ID, Daily News and countless more.. It's clear that Jeffree Star is much more than just another pretty face, the stoic battle to remain at the top is ahead for him, so stand back or be eaten, or worse, be gored with a vicious stiletto heel.

My plastic surgery face is just another reminder of what I'm walking away from.

My music is just another reminder to shut the fuck up and take your clothes off.

My life is just another reminder that I'm the reason teenage girls shove their fingers down their throats and little boys question their sexuality.

Because unlike every other bitch on this myspace.com hype, I prefer being under the floor with the worms while you all crash around in the ten inch stilletos you don't need, tripping all over one another's bullshit that drags as far behind you as your fake faces. I like being solitary and refined. I like people passing over me when my face isn't on. Unlike all the angstmonger kiddie-hoppers on myspace, I mean it when I say I COULD CARE LESS and that I am ONLY HERE TO SCREAM MY OPINIONS and I could really GIVE A SHIT LESS IF IT MATTERS TO YOU.

THEY care because they need the hits, the friends, the name that rides currents. They need to be part of the radiowaves that bring anyone else to attention. They need people to turn their heads when they say the same thing everyone else does in the same voice with the same face and in the same $60 pants that were worn in by the same asian kids getting paid the same bum change in the same factory living the same miserable fucking life.

You didn't buy those clothes at a fucking thrift shop. Your idea of vintage is a boy scout shirt complete with badges you never earned nor even understand the symbols of on fucking sale for $99.50, cause the halfbuck is so much less when you don't care where your mommy and daddy's credit card is used. Parading in Prada when you're so fucking punk and XXXtothefuckingCORE that you'll damn the system and bitch when your sister's pants rip at the seam because YOUR ASS DOES NOT FIT, UGLYSCENEBOY.

I know you all want me to stand around and look pretty, but I'm actually a real person. Barely.

no.

[I don't expect you to understand a word or see me as anything typical.]

no.

[I'm not naive enough to think the words "fag" or "attention whore" are below your state of mind for me.]

no.

I don't expect you to leave me the fuck alone, to erase the word enigma from your minds and thinks me unimportant. I can hope, but we all hope for silly things, don't we?

Yes, cameras are always flashing while I'm hidden under black tinted windows silently smiling with perfect pink lipstick. My diamond fingernails sparkle like a Mike Jones/Paul Wall grill and you'll have to wear sunglasses if you wanna come near this princess of fame.

I'm an icon to the teenage underground world. Even Jon-Benet Ramsey wanted to be me. My sparkling razor sharp tiaras that Miss America style-jacked from me. You'll soon see me inside every magazine, 6 page layouts of me pretending like I have real feelings. My eyes are hidden from the sun beneath huge fake eyelashes and my wrist says "fake" and "vanity" obviously contradicting everything I've already said ??andthenandthenandthen?

Everything is monotone like my dead fucking eyes and I'll say "I'm the only Miss America. I'm what your mother was supposed to be. I'm perfect."

"I want out of the labels. I don't want my whole life crammed into a single word. A story. I want to find something else, unknowable, some place to be that's not on the map. A real adventure. A spinx. A mystery. A blank. Unknown. Undefined.

"The only way to find true happiness is to risk being completely cut open.

Sure, everybody wants to play God, but for me it's a full-time job.

What you don't understand, you can make mean anything."