lost follower

I used to have 13 followers and now I have 12.Whoever you are... we need to talk

If New Years Eve was a person, I would ask him to come over for some Veuve Cliquot

Reasons why I love New Years Eve, but I still do all this stuff anyway

1. I can masturbate, sleep with married people, eat trans fats, raid pharmacy's, preform spells, cry,and tweet  all day and say things like Next Year I wont do this, but really continue and repeat the cycle.

2. I stand next to the richest looking man at midnight to get a kiss and then I grab the ass cheeks.

3.  I make the maids Dress me

4, I order room service naked

5. I tag pictures of fireworks which looks artsy, dramatic, and sophisticated.

6.  I take lots of smuggled laxatives to look extra thin for the party and use the excuse, just this once its a special occasion.

7.  I grind up on strangers, the younger the better

8. I call my shrink's family to wish them a happy new year and to again apologize for making their mother cuddle me and invite me to family night dinners.

9. I change clocks so people never know when its midnight.

10. I steal the fireworks and bring them on the airplane by hiding them in my shampoo bottle.

Inner Peace on Holiday

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Ceo of FAO Shorts and Vaginas

As I blog in the nude, and have gained nearly international recognition as if you are reading this you are aware of my status as an elite blogger, I become rather unsure of my blogging abilities. Are my blogging abilities as strong as my good looks sophisticated disposition and enjoyment of stealing my boyfriend's medication?
Therefore, as you know, I am becoming a CEO of glitter Sex Toys that will expand on the FAO SHORTS with toys for CHildren and for their mummies and daddies to make sex a more family event. I remember as a child I used to think it was beyond hysterical to go swimming in the pool with Father in the Hamptons with my puppy sapphire and reach inside his euro speedo and feel around.
I had to have a lecture from Mother and Father and the Swimming instructor about the wrong ness of this situation, which in all honesty I still do not completely understand.  Interesting fact, the swimming instructor is now a critically acclaimed actor and had  small role in Dude Where's my Car, where he was truly brilliant. He was a bit disturbed about my Electra complex, but as a struggling Actor with a steroid abuse problem, he worked for Father for the next 5 years.
While I do not support children and parents sleeping together unless it is by choice, which clearly it was not. I support more discussion about sex with mummies and daddies and their children. The children can buy toys and the parents can buy toys and then discuss the purchases. This business promotes American ideals of Family values, capitalism, ejaculation, and vibration.
Please let me know if you know a good investor

Profound questions with simple answers

When does innocence end?    Pubic hair and the urge to make a porn film 

What is Love?     Multiple Orgasms sauteed with the feeling of being coked out

Was Jesus Jewish and Black? Yea

Where is God? In your heart

Mid Holiday Objectives

1. Removed due to potential lawsuit

2. Waterski in the nude during the day

3.  Develop an addiction to Johnny Walker Black as nothing says Im classy cultured and well bred (like a horse) like drinking hard liquor.

4.  Bedazzle my vibrator

5.  Give out more business cards

6. Design anal beads

7. learn how to preform an abortion, to myself as well as others

8. de friend all my facebook friends who arent from a cultured race

9. learn the Saxaphone

10. Figure out something else sophisticated to say about the stock market besides that it is volatile.

11. develop a tighter vagina

12. eat more caviar

My Glittery Obsessive Compulsive Anxiety Ridden Resume

Objective: High status socialite who dabbles in sophisticated foreign porn, public relations for the mafia, and classy rapping about the volatile stock market and Johnny Walker Black

Name: Glitter Therapy

Address: Several: Pied a terre on 5th Avenue, Penthouse at the Bul Ja Arab, Nantucket, Princess Diana's Room at the Copacabana in Rio

Education: pseudo ivy league institution because the science building is called GlitterTherapy.

Languages Spoken: Pig Latin and English in a highly inflected sophisticated articulation. I can also say I give phenom head in 15 european languages.

Skills: Social climbing, drinking champagne, using my credit card, shopping at CVS, putting pictures on facebook, deciphering the super wealthy from the semi wealthy, breaking into safes, reading people's text messages, manipulating, talking about Opera, swimming with dolphins

New Rich Hot BFF.. who worships me like Im the 2nd Cumming

In my attempt to achieve socialite status, it is obviously vital that I have a loyal group of skinny rich sophisticated damaged women who understand the trials and tribulations of waiting in lines at clubs and the struggles of getting a higher trust fund than siblings. 

Most recently, I have added one new factor to my criteria of members of my creme de la creme inner circle. They have to understand down to the depths of their clit my dire need to be a top socialite slash highly tasteful semi erotic porn star  slash white classy rapper and also share their prescription drugs and boyfriends. However, if they have neither to offer, in which case you are probably poor and un sophisticated, they can perhaps worship me the way dumb jappy suburbanites worship Bloomingdales. 

My new BFF a young hot rich jew who is exactly 4 and 3 quarters. While she does not yet quite understand my need to get finger fucked against a wall at Pink Elephant on memorial day weekend by current CEO of Goldman, she is most definitely getting there and most definitely understand the merits and quality of good looking individuals as it appears she is quite taken with the gentleman who looks like a sponge and lives under the sea, more formally known as Spongebob Square pants, who I hear gives good oral sex. She has a rockin bod, due to her limited diet of cheerios and grapes and her jazzercise and upper east side ballet practice.

She also thinks Im fabulous and is always down to take pictures with me and discuss Miley Cyrus pre bong hit.  We also have long deep talks about castles even though hers are made of sand and mine are made of diamonds and vicodin. See you in the Dubai Clubs in 2020 Ciao biatches. 

Verbatim Father Email to Manager of Hotel

I hope your families had as wonderful a Christmas as mine did.

Tonight's band was Really poor.  As you may or may not know, *wife aND i HAVE been dancing every night to multiple songs and have been encouraging other couples to join us on the floor.  Tonight's band play NO dancing music, as evinced by the emplitness of the floor. Extremely disappointing.

FOXNEWS FLASH

Telling people at cocktail parties you work in erotic soft core porn and dabble in producing lesbian novels into films does not translate as one who is an intelligent individual

If you do not frequently use your bidet, you have an extremely filthy buttocks

If you had sex with a rich man who does not make you finish and doesnt have a maid make his bed I suggest you call JP Morgan and have him fired for poor fingering skills and lack of domestic integrity.

If he is an oil tycoon and has Roman Numerals after his last name Marry him. Even if he is an obese acne filled, alcoholic, semi violent  small dick to the point of near non existence man  just do it.
With the right vibrator, diet, accutane, and anger management counselor, these problems can always be fixed. In the mean time book a first class ticket to the Canyon Ranch and enjoy the caviar, dom perignon, and van cleef jewls on your way.

If your maid does not know why your last relationship ended then you do not use her to her full extent. I use my maid as my unprescribing shrink, public relations consultant, meaning she tells me which pictures to de tag, and
spiritual guru even though caribbean/African prayers make me sound like a strange mixture of cultured yet poor.

What are you doing next year? Im going down on your CEO FATHER

There is nothing more irritating than when one asks what I am doing upon my ending matriculation of my pseudo ivy league education amongst children with blazers and ponies.
It should be quite obvious. I am leading the social climbing socialite erotic soft core porn public relations for the mafia existence.

Recently, I have decided to develop a sex toy business for prude and frigid women who need help exploring their bodies and discovering their own cum. There is no way that a top CEO lawyer, banker oil tycoon will marry the  jewish funny manic deppressive neurotic alcoholic neurotic types if he does not think he is making you finish. Once women know how to please themselves they too can help their rich husbands please them. Ipso Facto, one will have a sex life resembling Dom Perignon.
This I believe will lead me on the path of leading the diamond encrusted existence of ruling page 6 without incessantly giving hand jobs to Bill Cunningham.

Family Holiday day 2-3 Christmas

Not to worry fellow glittertherapy readers, I will not be chronicling the entire holiday as that will be extremely repetitive, boring,  and frankly a waste of everyone's time.  Naturally, the best chronicles of the alcoholic erotic exotic hypnotic existence I lead takes place in the club attempting to get finger fucked by the low tier Merrill Lynch Analysts.
 Family holiday's consist of meals that should be labeled jews who booze, or christians on mission...to get drunk. There louboutin-sole purpose of getting drunk with family is to push them to death in order to get  trust fund ASAP AS POSSIBLE. currently it is ( 5 years 3 months 10 hours and 32 seconds).

You also drink with your family on holiday to forget the fact that most likely, at a resort, where people return to year after year, you most likely have exchanged awkward encounters with someone's father to the point where everyone is uncomfortable, or  had sex with the fat rich liberal jew in 2003, or had anal with the black waiter on the tennis courts that one night you took shrooms  and who happens to be serving the chardonnay and fois gras.

Father loves the "scene". He knows everyone's exercise schedule, how many times they have been married, which child is the drug addict, ( thank god he knows so I dont have to awkwardly ask the wrong child to get some strong percocets). Father also develops an intense anorexia resembling that of a 14 year old who announces his weight during cocktail hour and informs the manager of the Resort that he is in better shape than most of the 40 year old citi bank gentleman with whom he plays tennis and squash. Despite his intense obsession with his hot bod, he is still my dearest richest most fabulous friend and biggest role model.
 Mother does not come down to the beach so for fun I say that she is deathly allergic to the mix of sand and fat people. She stays in her gigantic suite, reads french vogue, practices her British accent, and practices yoga with her teacher whom she brought in her carry on, but we had to but her in coach due to the horrific Obama economy.
To most of my contemporary socialites the scene is has-been second marriage gold diggers who haven't had an orgasm since Bush Senior. The lack of people's sex lives on this holiday is astounding. I can soundly go to sleep without the sounds of ejaculation which is peaceful superficially, but downright depressing on another. Do family holidays equal no sex?

The night life is also a sad excuse for an actual evening of dancing. It is reggae and steel band reminiscent of a crack house in harlem. Naturally I attempt to jazz up the nightlife by taking the microphone from the reggae band to belt out my own interpretation of Bob Marley. I do enjoy Bob Marley's jam's except for his need to smoke marijuana. I would much rather have a gin and xanax concoction and dry hump the saxaphone player whilst taking my pictures and making mother and father proud.

Lessons from the Carribean thus far

1. Have sex in the pool just once, chlorine in the vagina can be easily removed with a mixture of xanax and vanilla yogurt (non fat)

2. Bring along a yoga teacher who knows where to find good mushrooms

3. If you have your period, wear a thong bikini just to make everyone uncomfortable. I may smear the blood on a waspy child and tell him its war paint

4. The waiters have the best racist jokes against white people, e.g crackers eat crackers.

5. Do not go into the ocean late at night heavily medicated as you do not end up off the coast of the mediterranean in a mansion. most likely I will die and I do not have an appropriate funeral soundtrack picked out nor am I sure the Yale A cappella group are available.

Family Holiday Day 1

Its been 24 hours and am already going minorly insane without my on round the clock team of psychiatrists. I believe there is a gentleman whom I met in the gym who practices psychiatry so I may be requesting his assistance. I do not know his room number, but  I gave fellatio to the black concierge 2 Christmas's ago, so I do not imagine a significant problem obtaining this information.

Had tea with father and a swim in the ocean and informed him that along with my career as a social climbing socialite, I also want to take my career in erotic soft core porn to the next level, and open a sex toy shop for women who are frigid and prude who need to explore their sexuality further. He seemed open to the idea.

What I gleaned from my weekend of cocktail parties

1. They breed alcoholic men and slutty women
2. They make clear that if you are not a member of a family dynasty, run an oil company, are an A-list model, or a doctor for botox, than you might as well not speak
3. If you are not wearing a designer who is dead, you should change, live designers are very 2010 my apologies to Zac Posen and Naf Naf

4. If you are overweight, a hermaphrodite, homeless, or a zinc deficiency that shows up on your face, you should stay home,

5. If you do not get wasted, then you did not talk to enough people
6. If you cannot dance, do the robot
7. do not masturbate in public, someone is always watching
8. take a significantly obscene amount of pictures, with captions such as "Glittertherapygirl using the bidet"

Debutante Balls: Grinding is hard to do in Black Tie Gowns whilst talking politics

This past weekend I was blessed with a glittery invitation of one of my dearest blonde skinny friends to witness her entering into society. After my raving jealous surpassed and I heavily medicated I was deeply honored with the invitation and immediately began practicing my impressive cocktail party talk and started reading more fair and balanced fox news.
The guests included but were not limited to Dj's from Switzerland, grandchildren of democrats, oil tycoons, and a young hot married couple from Stanford who was impressed that I immediately knew she was a kappa even though she was blonde, heavily botoxed and was giving off a super I do pilates and masturbate to classy porn vibe. Itso facto, it was fairly obvious she was a kappa kappa kill me.  This party reminded me I have a lot of work to do if I want to be a high society socialite who does not converse about prescription pills, psychiatrists, and my suicidal existence during the early years of the millenium before gin and xanax.
The party took place at the petroleum club and I kept asking what we would all do if there were a leak in the building thinking that would be an amusing joke, which no one thought was particularly funny.   Even though I was heavily medicated and drank 14 champagnes and sampled 16 different types of caviar and nearly passed out at the coatcheck all over the plethora of versace furs, I still managed not to entirely embarrass myself. I also told every old man I saw how hot they looked whilst stroking their arm.

While the large team of makeup and hair people came, I laughed to myself about the fact that they tried to impress me with the fact they were also models for Macy's and L.L Bean catalogs. This fact reeked of a sad middle class existence but I got over it when they transformed my usual look of a hot mess train wreck into a smoky eyed princess with blown out hair and insisted that they glue sequins around my eyes for a more dramatic effect.


The crowd was in pink mink furs and the conversation was what I enjoy most, guns, booze, diamonds, oil, and I of course added my own input on How I expected their to be significantly more gold diggers. Rich society people are essentially the same as regular people who havent been officially announced as marriage material in society, only with better champagne and designer clothes. There is still fellatio in the DJ booth, Michael Jackson music, slutty girls trying not to act slutty, and the sad raging obesity alcholism mixture that is killing america. Note: I would not care if the epidemic was a bulimia alcoholic epidemic, in fact I would encourage the switch even though there would be a significant need for more water due to all the toilets flushing.

Its hard to social climb and act classy when surrounded by rich men that you want to dry hump against a wall next to the ice sculptures and cator waiters, mostly because it takes a lot of work to lift up a ball gown to have a gentleman insert his finger into you. Dry humping in black tie, while it takes more work with a little patience is the best way to do it. Rich, sexual, dirty, icy, christian louboutins, ejaculation. This is what hot hook ups are made of.

I was paired with a gentleman who ditched me for President Bush's cocktail party which I found highly offensive especially given the fact that he created a war that is not real. The  the money on the war could be better spent making better vibrators and helping  poor black kids read. It may be insulting to my fellow blood loving republicans that I do not support Iraq, I just cannot support a war that does not have to do with freeing kids in attics, like the Anne Frank war.
Nevertheless I attempted to steal other dates from the wives that were present by showing off my classy grinding skills and impress upon my profound knowledge of politics and literature and art and religion which I had on an index card that I copied from Iwanttosoundintelligentsophisticatedworldly.com.

Even though I was date less I still realized that balls and the celebration of coming out into society is significantly more vital to my existence and my quest to be a top parisian moroccan socialite then attending family barmitzvah's, which was also the same day. Mazel Tov, Ill buy you a cocktail and help you lose your virginity, kid.

Lies I tell at Cocktail Parties

No one likes a boring guest...

1. My great aunt died of a heroin overdose
2. When I was in middle school I dated a guy in the projects and my dad suggested we go to Il Riccio for lunch
3. On my last trip to Morocco I had a really intellectual Arabic conversation with the cab driver, in fact..
4. I am practically fluent in Arabic, Ana tetakellum al laura al arabia!
5. I most definitely did not test out your vibrator whilst babysitting your children.

And I know its a lie when I hear
1. I really dont care what religion the man I marry is as long as he is kind, (yea and jewish with a trust fund who can make you finish in under 10 minutes)

2. I find the hostess just a doll ( She slept with my husband two years ago and knows about my ex problem and that I have a strangely addictive fetish with asian men)

3. These hors d'oeuvre's are magnificent ( need to find nearest powder room to throw up and do 65 jumping jacks)

4. I have a great sex life ( no explanation needed, as you look like you have been dry for awhile)

5. I just live for being a MOMMY it is so fulfilling.

If you have the urge to cut and purge, stop blaming DADDY

As I have been on my quest to become a creme de la creme socialite I have realized the importance in Father's and so should my contemporary socialites. ITso facto I am obsessed with Father. I live and breathe for father and if he wasn't already taken by mother Id marry him myself.  If you are an herve leger Chanel wearing euro vacationing pill popping top shelf liquor drinking hotel bar hopping youth, then daddy is not the cause of your problems.
I find the upper creme de la creme daddy issues of my inner circle embarrassing, because unless he touched your clit when you were little, and honestly how can you blame him as Im sure you were adorable, then I urge the socialites and wannabe socialites of my generation to stop blaming your low self esteem internal hatred alcoholic slutty issues on the Patriarch. NOT HIS FAULT. Sure, I have met fathers of my socialite inner circle who are cold not relatable, doesnt know their boyfriends name, where their place of business is, what kind of vibrator they have, and that they were pregnant in highschool for a particularly miserable 3 weeks.
BUT Your father has been waking up at 6 am since before adderall to give you and your family the life that you lead. The very idea of the socialite would not be possible without Father, he financed the first of what would become a long tradition of popping champagne and hiring photographers for his socialite offspring. Put on your cartier necklace, your hermes belt, and pack your louis vuitton luggage for a nice spa weekend in the Swiss Alps and make sure to bring your pony as a carry on. Its a stressful revelation that its not Father's fault for the wannabe socialite's self hating disposition. I recommend the deep tissue.

what I typically talk about on dates

They say in magazines to talk about your interests whilst on dates
these are my favorite topics,
my therapists, my hatred of vitamins, my friend who is a policeman, opera, ronald reagan, the fact that I like to lick the back of the balls, my dream of owning an aquarium in the Middle East, foreign porn, my doormen, racism, veuve cliquot, people who I know who are controlled alcoholics, my pending status as a creme de la creme socialite, Ari from entourage and dark chocolate.

Miracle on Rodeo Drive

Holiday Season is a time when my chronic lethargy somehow is more noticeable to society. As Ive said, I find it an accomplishment if I even get myself out of bed, and there is no reason to except the obligations of reminding fathers on wall street to tip their maids via twitter bloomberg.
On the otherhand, once Im up, fully medicated, and have established my quote sultry look, which involves heavy black eyeliner a push up bra, spanx, a purse that has letters CD so everyone knows its christian dior and 3 shots of patron for the added wobbly effect, the holiday parties can be grand. Especially when someone dumb enough does not realize the brand of my purse, I can say Christian Dior with a french accent and lie about how some of the dior team and I are distant cousins.
 During the holidays it is easier to social climb as people are drunk enough to take pictures with you smiling and so itso facto you become associated with the right circles. I should remind myself not to tag photos of myself grinding up against the bar(tender). I never hook up with help unless they make alcohol or prescribe me mood stabilizers.
Lots of drunk husbands who after one too many scotches realize quote hey, my wife IS a bitch. Thats what the holidays are all about, which brings me to my goal this holiday season. Become a mistress. But knowing the uncoordinated mess that is my existence, I  will most likely will end up in a closet with some washed up overworked low tier Bank Of America analyst, who will finger me too hard leading me to tears and render me resentful of cheating husbands. On the other hand if he tells me Im pretty and different who has an edge that he has never seen before, and by the way, and wants to recommend me to human resources for a potential career where I can stalk bankers in their own habitat it will be one of those Jesus miracles.

Dear Friends with Celebrities

There is nothing more amusing/ obvious that someone is lying to me when they tell me about their dear celebrity friends and how they are really regular people just like you and I. So many things wrong with this lie besides the obvious point that it is a lie.
First of all, I am NOT regular, and if one ever again accuses me of such atrocity, they will most likely be black-listed from every night club in Paris, which I can do with one phone call to Mother. Regular people are boring, politically correct, go to club Med, and order beers in the clubs.
Secondly, being friends with celebrities is very cool because they are in fact better than all of us, which is why they are celebrities. One should celebrate the fact they matriculate with these A listers or B listers and try to spend as much time with them as possible in order to infiltrate their inner circle and eventually climb to the top of of the social ladder and then call me to join so I can tag myself on facebook.

I have several pseudo celebrity friends of whom I worship and as a skilled manipulator due to my education at the fine conservatory of Stella Adler acting school in Manhattan, know the truth. The celebs do not want to be treated like regular people, else they would not have tried to break into the profession. I am obviously on a constant quest to gain more celebrity friends as the more people I know in the A list circle, the closer I am to becoming a creme de la creme socialite. Socialite is a chemical combination of severalfold, money, power, a good nose job, skinny cigarettes, and frequent mentions on perezhilton and page 6. Socialites are celebrities as well but do not have to memorize lines and wake up before 2 pm. All they have to do is look skinny rich and bored and give money to poor people. As Don quixote in Man of La mancha said: quote this is my quest, to follow that star, no matter how hopeless no matter how far end quote, if Don Q. achieved the Impossible Dream, than so can yours truly.

baa baa black sheep have you any...

Ive always known I was a bit of a black sheep of my family. Not in a racist kind of way, but my family is known for their prestige, their finesse, their excellence, they use discretion, do not make dramatic scenes, and overall make sensible life choice decisions.Or if they dont they hide it well and pretend thats what they meant to do all along.

I on the other hand, do not. I lead a particularly loud, obnoxious, pretentious, racist, selfish, neurotic, insomniac, manic depressive, semi slutty alcoholic, republican, sparkly minorly trashy existence. And make no mistake, as hard as I try to conceal this sometimes, it appears that these characteristics are the chemical makeup of who I am. It is in my D.N.A also known as Drastically Narcissistic Adult.

But, instead of crying to  psychiatrist about how I do not believe I meet the highly sophisticated and intellectual and fergiliciously glamourous bar that the contemporaries of my family set, I instead try to embrace it. Its true that unlike my family I am not the queen/ king B slash ivy league educated quality student and exemplary human being, I have made my own impact in my quest to celebrate the bedazzled rockstar diamond encrusted lifestyle. I may make my own mark fulfilling my dream of becoming the first white classy rapper who raps about the stock market, or do public relations for the Mafia, or make being a hooker look as genius as Julia Roberts did in a more modern millenium fashion where I meet a black man like Usher.

Its hard to be the screw up, the child whose claim to fame is the most shrinks, the most calls to the principals office, the most outbursts, the most suicide notes, the highest credit card bill, and the one that is quote most concerned about. But from now on, Im going to rock the black sheep, or in my case the black diamond- minxy sheep and rest in my laurels and aim to for success as the wife of someone on the Forbes list. While my immense jealousy runs deeply through my veins like nicotine, somewhere in my heart, mixed with my anti depressants and gin, I am so deeply incredibly impressed and moved with my siblings great success. They are forever my biggest role models and most deep inspiration.

3 girls- one room- one holiday

Some very important members of my inner circle are friends that I have met whilst on holiday. Friends on holiday are different than your regular circle., because they only know you in your most relaxed laissez faire "lets party, social climb and get laid mentality" It is a great way to let other people know your social status by telling cocktail party stories of when your friends that you met while skiing the slopes at Stein Erikson  or in the Spa at the Swiss Alps make you who you are today. "How cultured she must be", they will say. 

This particular social climbing skill of making friends whilst on holiday in the VIP clubs or on the sandy beaches of Barbados or on the Rue de Bonaparte in Paree, is one that is not just limited to myself. Father often finds young promising good looking men whilst on holiday and recruits them for his nearly international firm. Mother has holiday friends on every continent as she is fluent in francais. 

Sister and I have a very special holiday friend. A modelesque gorgeous scottish British Lawyer who we have known since before we drank at breakfast and the economy was good. 

This year,  Brit-Scot's family has decided to abandon our annual holiday retreat for a different cultural experience, thus she has decided to leave her family behind and spend it with us, which obviously is the better choice.  There are too many memories we have all had as holiday dear friends to let the tradition of spending New Years eve together slip away. We have used other guests shampoo because we thought it was funny, and purposely spilled banana crushes on the floors, and even turned on pornographic television in the children's television room. 

Since she has decided to spend it with sister and I she is living with us in our actual hotel facility room. I have several fears of this. Whilst I am thrilled that my model lawyer friend is part of the sacred family this holiday season, I wonder what will occur in a room with three beautiful smart vain self obsessed women who need space to masturbate and do yoga? Whilst the Brit, is highly respectful, I am not and need space to stretch my vagina. 

Hopefully I will be so heavily medicated that I will not even notice that there are other people in the room or that it is Christmas for that matter. And hopefully I will find a man who's trust fund is big enough to hold my dreams of living the creme de la creme socialite lifestyle. And we can try out my skills that I discovered in my newest self help book of how to have hot sex like a porn star even though you are really neurotic and are pseudo ivy league educated. 

Winter is a time for complaining

I have a lot of complaints during the winter, but I have fixed them through the following mechanisms: intense research, gueling statistical analyses, and fellatio

1. It is very cold. - Get over it- cold burns calories and buy a fur jacket that looks slimming. Tell your vegan friends its faux and your fashion friends its minx. 

2. A lot of finals/work/presentation/- Get over it and just do it and do not broadcast your work on your facebook/tweet status looking for sympathy which can only be found in a bottle of pinot noir, 

in a week it will be holiday and you do not have to be sober

3. Icy Roads- Get over it, walk, or take the bus, burns calories and saves the environment, not that I care about the latter. 

4. too many cookies during holiday parties- Stop being friends with people who think its acceptable to serve dessert

5. Horny- be productive and make a to do list ,sample: masturbate-study- receive oral sex-study

6.  No idea what to get people for gifts-  how about a diamond encrusted framed photograph of yourself, or of me and a nice bottle of champagne with 6 pieces of dark chocolate taped to the bottle in the shape of the receiver's initials 

7. Pharmacy out of Xanax due to holiday time- iphone/blackberry  the nearest CVS, all CVS's in all major cities are in the vicinity of 2.3 miles of each other. 

No need complain, complaining is for people without trust funds who are 35 pounds overweight and havent been laid since Bush Senior. . Stay warm, stay rich, stay medicated xx

Christmas for the Jews

"I just went to an amazing office hannukah party last night and the boss got drunk and I screwed his wife". This sentence does not happen. There are no office hanukah parties unless one works at a temple or in a gefilte fish shop.
Jews all face a deep sadness during the holiday season for other reasons than realizing that their trust funds are not quite as big as they hoped and that a Jewish man's penis while circumcised, will never do what that big black man's dick did that one time during junior year of college Spring Break in Jamaica.

Having said all of this, I still love my Judaism. I love the free trip to Israel, I am one of matzah's biggest fans, and enjoy taking the day off to dip apples in honey in solitude while thinking about all the sins I have committed that I am secretly happy I committed. But Jews face another problem during the holiday season and that is the lesser known Christmas but the greater known Kwanzaa. Kwanzaa, by the way is no longer a pejorative term.
 Chanukah it has been an obstacle for jews since the early 1970's. jews have constantly been trying to compete with Christmas over their holiday and it is now time to end the holiday war. The fact is Christmas is better and the sooner we admit this to ourselves, our people, and our grandparents, the sooner we can do a rendition of the jingle bell rock and get laid.
The fact is, Chanukah is kind of boring. It does have some redeeming qualities. The candles are pretty, it lasts for awhile, and one gets to pretend they are intelligent about their religion by throwing around words like the MACABEE's or menorah.
As a child, my father was a firm believer in wreaths, Christmas trees, and blasting our 5'th avenue's pied a terre with the great Opera singer's renditions of Christmas carols, leaving the help very confused. The saying is true, father does know best, he knew that as the Patriarch of our family, his offspring would enjoy nature in our own home in the form of a Christmas tree decorated with Van Cleef and Cartier ornaments more than a measly game of spin the dreidle, which as a side note can be great sex toys.

 My mother tried to fight the spreading of nature and trees in our home and put her foot down on wreaths and stockings as she tried to have her children stay as connected to the original faith as possible.  My family has always been about what is more fun and lets face it, Christmas is a lot more fun. more songs, more parties, more pretty lights, and more Ronald Reagan American family holiday like values. Reagan was a firm believer in celebrating Christmas and itso facto so am I. No one gives to charity just because its hanukah, people give to charity just because its Christmas.
But before my great ancestors strike me down for turning my back on my lit menorah thus setting my oscar blandi  hair blowout on fire, I want everyone to stop and realize something extremely vital. Jesus was Jewish, Jesus was born on Christmas, itso facto, celebrating Christmas is commemorating the birth of the Jew's most famous, Jesus Christ. He was born in a manger with some other animals which is how I plan on my surrogate birthing my own children as I assume I have the genes of the 2nd coming.
Now that we have established that celebrating Christmas is in fact celebrating Judaism. Lets all open a bottle of champagne under the christmas tree and give the gifts that are ugly away to charity.
Merry Christmas fellow Jews. Mazel Tov.

If you snort your adderall, reassess your priorities

Adderall, its an attention grabbing phenomenon like immediate multiple orgasm, or stock market crash, and ironically attention grabbing is exactly what the drug is supposed to do.

I have been prescribed some sort of the salt since I was 6 years old and explained to my psychiatrist my intense frusturation will my inability to focus whilst reading the American Girl books sauteed with my inability to focus during the philharmonic or Mozart's the Magic flute of which I was a frequent attendant of. Not to mention, I was desperate to become a ballerina at the School of American Ballet and felt that the salts would suppress my appetite for french lemonade and olives that were between me and my ballerina figure. 

Needless to say I have been on some form of the salt since my matriculation upon the first grade and I have of course never felt better, but this is probably due to my mood stabilizers.  I have noticed that some of my contemporaries crush their pills up and sniff these up their nose. Not cute, not sophisticated, not rich and you will wind up with blue boogers and no boyfriend.

I suggest you ingest the normal way and take care of your studies the same way you do with your sex organ. Gently and with respect. No need to snort, that is disgusting 

Rules, like the Hymen are meant to be broken

I never play by the rules because they weren't written for me. I find them boring, painful, and as I've said before were most likely created by a fat single woman who went to a top 50 school and never made it past the red velvet ropes. Lets be real, neither have I, unless Im with father.
 However, these are the rules that I made up that I decided I will follow this week.
1. Dont put out unless I get cash or a bracelet or a chandelier
2. Dont do drugs unless they are prescribed
3. Dont eat trans fats unless its under hun cal
4. dont do bulimia unless it is with my magic wand
5. dont let poor people write on my facebook wall
6. dont masturbate so satnightsexfest is really good
7. dont drink tap water
8. do not read any source of news besides foxnews or bloomberg, anything else is liberal propaganda
9. dont think about other world leaders besides Putin, Reagan, or Hugo Chavez
10. dont listen to reggae music, unless its shaggy because makes me wants to smoke marijuana and eat a lot of cookies and cotton candy.
11. Make up a really good story to tell at next cocktail party

I do charity so that I don't feel bad about my drinking

Charity, giving back to the community, helping others less fortunate, or as I like to call it, buying good karma. Here's a hard fact. Socialites do not like charity unless it involves writing a check whilst simultaneously getting a spa pedicure drinking champagne and masturbating. If they say they like it they are lying but don't bother probing them because they will never admit it.
 I have secretly slipped some tequila into some fellow socialites diet cokes to have them reveal that they would rather sell their own children than go to a homeless shelter. True, but not that sad, as children go for at least 50K on the black market. People easily confide in yours truly because I am a skilled manipulator which has come from my training at the highly critically acclaimed Stella Adler Acting School.
Regardless, all wannabe socialites do charity for several reasons, society hates those that at least do not at least pretend to communist-icly even out some of the wealth by giving it to others, and for my favorite buying new karma.
Some of my less fortunate contemporary philosopher's ask me, Do you not feel bad spending mummy and daddy's hard earned cash that they earned respectively on the luxury expert fashion runway and on the trading floor of wall street?
My answer is absolutely not, I was born with a gift of being able to do what I want, say what I want, act how I want all the time every day all day 24/7 a gift that I am trying to spread to all wannabe socialites all across New York, Los Angeles, and Europe, and the less Asiany parts of Asia. So, because of my gift, and my chronic raging obsession with veuve cliquot with every meal, I do some charity, so that I buy some good karma and continue to never feel bad for doing what I want and saying what I want all day every day.

How many boys you kiss in clubs is dependent upon how many antidepressants you are on

Its a tough day for me, after careful review of my credit card bill, it appears that I have popped bottles with my contemporaries on more than half dozen occasions in the past month. this leads me to the startling realization that I spend as much time as I do in clubs as I do taking naps, complaining to my maids, or contemplating how to spend the least amount of time with my trainer as possible but still convince myself that I exercised. 

After careful reflection of my month replete with table buying in attempt to up my socialite status and potentially be photographed by someone other than myself, Ive realized that  I kiss a lot of boys who are trying just as hard as I am to be on newyorksocialdiary.com. It seems that the number of boys one kisses whilst at a table in the club, is contingent upon how many antidepressants one is prescribed. In the olden days back in the late 80's it seemed rather normal to kiss one or two boys the same way it was normal to be prescribed one or 2 prescription drugs. Now times have changed and psychotheripasts have gotten lazier and prefer to have pills do the work for them, which obviously is fine by me. 

The situation is that I like to kiss a lot of boys because I like to get free drinks and I like to pretend I am a sexual being as opposed to an uptight frigid prude with high anxiety and low self esteem issues. However, with the proper mix of my medications and veuve cliquot, the prudeness dissipates like a xanax dissolving in a vodka tonic, and I am free to kiss as many boys without a care in the world. The more boys one kisses whilst popping bottles, is contingent upon how many anti depressants one is prescribed. 

isnt it ironic

that those who make social commentary aren't very social

those who take a firm stance on abstinence wind up pregnant

those who ask for bodyguards probably dont need them

page 6 in the post is not on page 6

people who say they love foreign films are American

I do not know what Ironic means 

I never ever lie, unless I feel like it

A very important characteristic in my semi alcoholic neurotic hypnotic erotic social climbing disposition is I indulge in some pathological lying tendencies Just for my own amusement .
Now examine pathological, it has the word logical in it, which means that there is some logic to my lies. I just sometimes find reality to be a bit too boring to discuss at cocktail parties so I embellish the situation. For example, If I had sex with a man and then he left in the middle of the night, I would most likely tell the story as we did not have sex although he really wanted to and he stayed with me throughout the evening and we listened to classical music and played scrabble and talked about the underlying symbolism of Fight Club and made our own.
The story essentially has the same plot, but with some minute detail swaps that make the story more interesting to the listener. My philosophy is, WHy speak if you have something boring to say? Boring like homelessness is a sin that is looked down upon by greek gods, so in my quest to be a creme de la creme top socialite, I slightly anecdote my tales for a more fun cocktail party. Cheers.

My glass of champagne costs more than your Spring HoLiDaY

So, the concept of "Spring Break" is looming..a time when Children go down to the Caribbean and drink all for about the cost of my glass of my champagne. Trashy, Horrific, my worst nightmare. Ive heard stories ranging from women getting glass thrown at each other to doing shots at breakfast off of the waiter.

  Even for my own senior year, when I was riding on the high on the latter of my manic depression, I chose to go to Dubai with family at the Burj Al Arab and it was most definitely the right decision. I urge this generation to bring back the family holiday on Spring break to examine, culture, glitter, arabs, sand, hookah, and high tech water parks. That is what a holiday is really all about.

So even though during my late teens I was a rather manic depressive hermit who performed voo doo and enjoyed watching infomercials, I still realized the utter waste of time to spend SpRinG Holiday on a cheap island getting trashed whilst having meaningless conversation, when you can have a nice glass of champagne with mother and father and talk about the sadness of not being able to have alcohol on Sharik MuhammedAbiMinHussAyana's anniversary.

I BBM my shrink when...

1. I cant decide whether I want soup or salad as an Appetizer
2. I get in a fight with my trainer because he made me use the 20 lb weights
3. Have a bad dream in the middle of the night
4. Cant decide what music to download
5. When I have written a poem and want their thoughts
6. When I want to know how pretty I am
7. When Im rude to waiters and then feel bad
8. When I skip church to shop online and watch Chelsea Lately
9. When I dont vote and feel bad
10. When I lie and dont feel bad and then feel bad about not feeling bad

Daddy Issues Do not breed Promiscuous Socialites

Nothing gets my La perla diamond thong into a twist greater than individuals accusing my generation's slutty mannerisms on issues with our paternal figures. I know many women who cite their dad's as their best friends and go as far as to say that they are their "hero" and these women engage in frequent pre marital behavior. I also know women who when the mention of father comes up in a rather harmless cocktail party conversation, they end up covered in hives and a following panic attack, yet they too are still slutty.

Itso facto, Daddy issues have nothing to do with women who enjoy sleeping around to get ahead.

Dude, Where's my pony?

In order to fulfill the complete stereotypical pseudo Jewish upper class piano playing Armani for kids wearing young girl existence, I dabbled in the art of horsebackriding. Naturally, given my highly addictive obsessive personality I was addictively obsessed with ponies to the extent that my sexuality was questioned by my peers. "Is she perhaps in love with her horses"? They must have wondered...
The sport was perfect for me, it was dirty, animalistic, and frankly effortless since the 1,000 pound horse under me was doing most of the work. It also improved my ability to achieve orgasm faster and made my posture significantly straighter and more snobby looking. I immediately asked for a pony dyed powder blue every year for my birthday, and I also wanted it to sleep in my room in my guest bed.

Finally, when I was accepted into the institution for the school for wannabe lesbians, father told me I could get a pony dyed powder blue upon my matriculation.
Even though I left, since I found little in common with hippie liberal hipster marijuana smoking poets who dabbled in sex with their own sex, I still have to ask, Dude where is my pony? Did this contract become void once my attendance in this institution was no longer factual?
I am still patiently waiting at the barn, skinny cigarette in hand, and leather whip raring to go.

Unclassy Stock Brokers

Whilst it is my dream to conquer wallstreet one banker at a time, (Conquering wall street one banker at a time is the title of my memoir so please do not steal it unless you write a check for 250 dollars in 50's to me) I have had the displeasure of meeting some highly unclassy stockbrokers whilst attending the vip clubs and quote getting my social climbing on.
There were a group of gentlemen who were clearly a wall street type as I googled quote where do all the wall street guys hang out after work looking for women with semi slutty tendencies and high anxiety ? Naturally, over 3 dozen venues appeared on my search and immediately called fireman/driver to drive me.

The conversations sadly were not intellectually stimulating and I found that the gentlemen only wanted to grab my ass and buy my bi polar friend a drink. An important lesson learned, sometimes Men on wall street are not interesting conversationalists. I will have to fulfill my desire for intellectual conversation with my maid

Vital thoughts from the Glitter Sex Therapist

1. If you use a condom, it doesn't count, man up and pull out

2. Sex in a hot tub is not dangerous, it was a greek myth created my hotel maids who did not feel like scrubbing jacuzzi

3. Have sex during house  parties in the master bed room

4. use both ejaculations as a decoration atop next cake for added aphrodisiac effect

5. Put "Save tonight" by Eagle Eye Cherry to set the mood and "You make me sick" by Pink for the activity

6. No sex on the beach, sand in Vagina is bad luck

Lessons from Liberals

Whilst I consider myself a neurotic alcoholic social climbing conservative southern belle, as a genuinely worldly open to other's opinion's individual's. Therefore, I have decided that liberals did provide the world with some important lessons. For the philosopher's of my generation, we only remember two disaster liberals, B. Hussein, and slutty B Clit. However, they did provide some vital knowledge that I plan to use in my everyday life in my quest to becoming a top social climbing socialite.

1. Bill Clinton made it trendy to mess around with the help
2. Bill Clinton made the sax incredibly sexy

3. Hillary Clinton made it acceptable to stay with husband after cheating in order to maintain powerful first lady title. the 90's were truly about power over sex for women until Carrie Bradshaw came along

4. Jimmy Carter gave a lot of business to Ralph Lauren since he suggested that Americans not turn the heat on and freeze in their homes in order to save the greek mythical Global Warming Crisis.
5. Michelle Obama taught American women the power of strong sexy arms

6. Michelle Obama is on an intense quest to get fat kids out of America

7. Malia and Sasha Obama are hardcore Glee fans, a fox program I endorse not just because it sounds the channel glee is on makes me think of Fox news, but because the program is based on showtunes, family values, and acceptance of others as long as you can sing and dance.

Whip my hair back in forth gives me a seizure and makes me look retarded

Nepotism at its finest, "I whip my hair back in forth" a rendition of a young girl Willow Smith, daughter of the Fresh Prince of Bel Air and the sexy skinny black nurse from Nighthawks sings a song about literally whipping her hair back and forth.

I would like to start out by saying that this was my idea first, but I cannot come out to the press to say this lest I become accused of being a racist childhater, which I am obviously. There are several issues here, 1. because her father is famous for lap lyrics that you can sing to your grandmother, she has become a millionaire for shaking her head from side to side. I am all for nepotism as I plan on marrying someone who has extremely nepotistic tendencies, but has anyone in all honestly tried to whip their hair back and forth without inducing a major headache and minor epileptic seizure?

I have tried and failed, which makes me realize that the only people who can properly whip their hair back and forth need to have expresso skintones and be under the age of 13. 

Cocktail Party Small Talk in The Club

I have recently received my bedazzled rhinestone membership card from some dear friends called the YBPA Young Bottles of America Association, and whist I have always matriculated in this foundation since the Clinton Administration, it was a pleasure to become a true card carrying member.
Now, it is hard to maintain a sexysophisticatedintellectual line of conversation when DJ had us falling in love is blasting and waitresses are carrying bottles of Moet with sparklers in them. There is a lot going on which is why I always heavily medicate before bottle popping lest the intensity of the music and the lights of the sparklers and my erotic excitement of so many rich men render me incapable of classy dirty dancing. So, How do I compose myself with all of this commotion around me? Sister would probably respond that I do not respond appropriately and most likely make my group feel extremely uncomfortable.
I for one like to try to enjoy the music and attempt to grind, although as a Zodiac SAg, I am a natural leader and find the concept of trying to follow a euro coked out financier's rhythm rather troubling. However, that is why there is always more veuve cliquot and there is nothing wrong with a little medication and liquid courage.
So whist the music is booming and the lights are flashing and seizures are ensuing, the art of the cocktail party small talk should be whispered in the ears, which makes for a sexier more erotic discussion of the volatile stock market, the fabulous off broadway play you just witnessed, and your phenom trip to the Blue Mosque and in Istanbul. Party on

Asking father for sex advice

It is more than obvious that my parents are amazing at sex since they created 3 masterpieces that are comparable to Michaelangelo's David at the Galleria Dell Accademia museum in Florence.

Because of their quote skillz that kill. I would enjoy being privy to the information that led them to be such good masters. Of course there are good genes, but good genes do not always mesh well, see Shiloh Jolie Pitt. My sources at People Magazine say that she insists her mother calls her John.

However, when I asked Father about sex, he beckoned the waiter over to discuss the Yankees in Italian. Next time we are going to go to a restaurant where he does not speak the language of the help and hopefully I will get some good answers and report back.

Never too Much Money, Never too Much Spit

Most of the members of my inner circle have to frequently be exposed to my never ending quest to become a creme de la creme socialite and master the art of a perfect oral sex operation. I have read countless articles, been to two dozen seminars, and have spoken with 6 different sex specialists in order to help me overcome my semi frigid over sensitive vagina but never have a received advice as good as the title of this blog. One can never have too much money, one can never have too much spit. How fortunate I am to have an intelligent, sophisticated, sexpert, not to mention a  would-be-victoria's secret model-but-would-rather -save-the-world- and be-photographed member of my inner circle who understands the grave importance of associating anything to trust funds to help me work out a problem. I am forever grateful.

Sound of Music Throwback part 2

One of the most underappreciated characters in my all time favorite classic Rodgers and Hammerstein film is the Sound of Music is Max, Captain Von Trapp's sketchy mooching Brother. He says "I like rich people, I like the way they live, I like the way I live when I live with them". A Certain luxury expert in my inner circle told me that she does not find it amusing to live in someone else's home and expose her friends to her living habits.  I assume hers are more horrific than mine but this does not stop me from overstaying my welcome at various rich people's homes. In a world of social climbing, one should always take the opportunity to stay at a rich person's home. And why not expose them to who you really are? Im dirty, Im messy, I often forget essentials like razors, towels, lube, and porn dvd's and have to ask to borrow extras. Staying in friend's home's allows you to expose your true dirty self, which is the perfect test to see if they still love you and want to be photographed with you.

bottle poppin with my maids

Next time I ball out and buy a table I want to ensure that my I bring my staff as I frequently spill things rendering me incapable of grinding on my date thereby tripping on my C Loub's. Not only can the help swiffer up the alcohol that I spill but can also take pictures of me candidly talking to the bartender. An album with a whole eclectic race of people not only makes me look cool, but also worldly an ambassador-like. Cheers to having friends of different races.

Relationships, like Communism a good idea in theory, but not practice

Every single relationship, marriage, couple, group of lovers I have seen essentially wants to kill themselves. Why? Because they are not getting laid, do not have enough money and have forgotten about the important things in life like passion, spice, eroticism, and new vagina. Even if man has the greatest tightest pinkest vagina, he will eventually find another, and she is most likely a retarded asian blonde who doesn't know the difference between karat and carat.
Now, obviously I have to get married, several times, if I want to lead the lifestyle of Summering of the coast of the mediterranean and having a diamond encrusted glass crystal wand at my side that actually preforms magic and induces bulimia.
But overall, I am disgusted with the relationships in our society, a sweeping vast majority of the relationships I have witnessed eventually, like communism collapse over its failed theory. No one can be together forever, I even get sick of myself let alone of someone else which is why I am so thankful for my multiple personality disorder.
I believe that the best way to get through life is to go through it like Verdi's heroine Violetta in La Traviata. She goes through life from lover to lover, and while she dies at about 25 from a raging case of tuberculosis which makes her SO thin FYI, she seems to have enjoyed life to the fullest. See the first act party scene.

Im trying really hard to be more slutty

OK, so while my ultimate goal is to become a top creme de la creme socialite high class hooker mafia member erotic highly tasteful soft core porn star high class white rapper, I believe that as young women like myself and my inner circle of whom I matriculate with should experience all different types of men within the same socioeconomic status and race.
While I do not believe in engaging in frequent one night stands at the Crion everynight,
I most certainly believe that whist clubbing at high end executive first class vip clubs and bars I should engage in more sexual activity. This may include but not be limited to, making out with pretty rich girls in order for it to be photographed to send the message of how down I am with bisexuality, getting fingered against a wall which I try to do on a daily basis even if it is my own doing, and getting more CEO's numbers and accomplishing lunch dates that Le Bernadin for the week.
Slutty ness is not in poor taste, what in poor taste is being a prude frigid girl who is afraid of having a good time whilst dancing on tables and drinking Moet. There is nothing crazysexycooler than a beautiful woman who is smart because her dad paid for her to go to a top 15 school having a good time and being a little slutty.

Social under climbing

It appears that it is a right of passage for wannabe socialites like yours truly to exercise some charity work. Not the type of charity where you pass out soup and wear a hairnet and read to hispanic obese teenage mothers while cleaning gardens and petting cats, but the kind where one matriculates at the clubs with characters of whom are of lower social status. I call it charity social climbing, and it is an important skill to master in the field of getting to the top. This crowd may include but not be limited to poorer, uglier, fatter, weirder, smarter, dumber, trashier, more american or more boring. While my crowd of the evening may include some of these members that fit one more of these descriptions, I believe that it is essential to matriculate at the clubs with these people every now and then. Why?
1. its good for the soul and greatly ups your self esteem when the bouncer recognizes you over them
2. Its a powerful feeling when more rich men with gucci shoes and cartier watches buy you drinks first
3. When you overall realize that you are simply on the faster kentucky derby preakness bellmont track than the particular contemporaries towards becoming a top socialite
So I advise those wannabe social climbing socialites like yours truly, to matriculate in the clubs with those of lower status for a quick self esteem boost that does not involve medication or alcohol.. for now.

Daily Reflection

Its fairly obvious that I think rather highly of myself when I do more with my day then watch the maid make my bed and social climb, but I realized today, that the life of a neurotic erotic hypnotic semi alcoholic lifestyle really is more difficult than it seems. It is also fairly obvious that I am a teenage dream come true to most therapists. I remember during a particularly manic phase during my teenage existence, the best psychotherapist was no longer taking clients, but my current psychiatrist explained to her what a special and unique case I was and should immediately clear her schedule for patient glitter. I stand firmly at the belief that I am by far her most interesting patient especially with my tales of attempted seductions of family members by marriage, my desire to become the creme de la creme socialite of Paris and let my pseudo Ivy league education replete with half dozen classes on the power of women doing something meaningful or something go to utter waste.
 I find myself stricken with stress over dinner reservations and theatre tickets which render me incapable of doing my daily chores such as practicing the piano and walking the dogs.
Social climbing frequently puts me in a state of mind for a serious psychological reflection, which is why I truly do believe I am in so much therapy, but they are my dearest of friends and I wholeheartedly believe that they will be my bridesmaids at wedding number 2.

To do list

get a pedicure, sharpen knives, buy a third chinchilla, finish "Toxic Parents" on audiobook, do squats, fire my hypnotist, brazilian wax for upcoming soft core semi nude highly erotic Berlin porn film, organize my marbles, shower with grey goose, practice my pick up lines

Great Ideas for a memorable thanksgiving

1. self induce bulimia after the meal, but only with magic wand, as putting hands in mouth is borderline cannabalistic

2. (quietly) masturbate at the table

3. smoke cigarettes at the table/ roll a joint at the table, although I would most likely make the help roll it for me lest I set the table on fire, which I did in 1996.

4. forget to shower the night before and refuse to wear a bra or jock strap whilst playing football

5. insist that the maids sit at the table, and perhaps sit on their laps

6. force the entire table to do a rendition of "Gold Digger" the FOX network Glee version, since the N word isnt funny if maids are at the table, and its an appropriate song choice since it applies to most of the women over 24.

7. Invite any divorced spouses and use the argument, "Hey, its thanksgiving!"

8. ask everyone to go around and ask who their favorite porn star/porn flick is and why, and be sure to be specific

9. Ask every 15 minutes why Jesus wasnt invited, and frequently quote from the bible.

10. tape 100 dollar bills to your outfit

Stopping by the woods on a crystal methamphetamine snowy evening

I learned in 6th grade poetry class at the elite sadomasachistic gwennie p. mental institution, that poetry is about interpretation. Therefore I find that Robert Frost, truly was looking for meth while he was stopping by the woods, and when you interpret this poem glitterstyle, you find this poem and poetry in general much more interesting. "Whose woods these are I think I know,"i.e, what I gleaned from this phrase is that he is on a quest to find his drug dealer's shed.
Im normally not one for poetry, unless my trust fund is in the style of a poem, in which case I love poetry, but I find that poems are an symbolically metaphorically rhetorically a way of getting around what you are trying to say. As racist guitarist John Mayer once said, "Say what you mean to say", which most definitely applies to poets.
Poetry can be incredibly sexy, especially if you wear a beret and sit in any cafe other than starbucks and write about how one's upper middle class existence has gone horribly wrong. It can also be sexy if you truly get into the Renaissance Rockstar lifestyle and matriculate with a group of writers, singers, actors, and filmmakers and talk about beauty and god.

why you up in my veuve cliquot if you dont know what it tastes like?

The holidays are a difficult time for us all. Seeing people that fall into the category of, "I would never hang out with this person if we werent related by blood or marriage", and you are so annoying I have to have 6 johnny walker blacks to pretend you are witty and interesting.
Perhaps what irritates me most is that psychiatrist has a fully booked schedule, rendering her incapable of letting me lie on her polyester couch and discuss how I cant stop cutting until I get my trust fund. Its a hard life I lead, but with a team of qualified experts from ivy or pseudo ivy league medical institutions, I am confident that I can get into a high enough medically induced state to make it appear as if a republican is president.
I find gift exchange some sort of cruel joke that society plays on itself, along with commercials telling us that condoms are fun and that cubic zirconium can in fact pass for the real deal. It cannot. Gift exchange, I would much rather buy my own gift with fathers's own money than go through the trouble of explaining to others that all I really want for Christmas is champagne and caviar replete with a rockstar lifestyle. This year I encourage you all to treat yourself this Kwanzaa, because if you are spending money on someone else in the hope that that someone else will buy you what you actually want, will leave you broke, disappointed, champagneless, and extremely sexually frustrated.

Avoid Rules at all costs especially during sex

I have the slightest inclination that the woman who created the quote dating rules is single, overweight and seriously disturbed. I constantly have to remind myself that these rules either heard from a friend, therapist, or dear enemy are most likely horrifically misinformed. Whenever I eavesdrop on my contemporary philosopher acquaintances discussing whether or not they should call him, do anal sex, get him a birth of Christ gift, or introduce him to his parents, I first have to thank them for inducing my bulimia and then get very upset.
The rules are there are no rules. Just do it. If you have the strong desire to venture to the exploration of intercourse with the buttocks than do it, and have no fear that he will not think you are classy. Bedroom classy and Boardroom classy is like comparing veuve cliquot to New York City Tap water.  Because there are always as many exceptions as there are to the so called rules that poor obese divorced woman made up. One of my dear acquaintances kept her legs closed for 4 months and got a marriage proposal...who later cheated on her husband to which he responded by beating him up and cutting up her Gucci clothes. Clearly, they are acquaintances s as I do not make it a habit to associate with such violent low class behavior even though they go to nice restaurants and take extravagant holidays so naturally they remain in my inner circle. Not to mention their relationship provides me with endless entertainment that I sometimes forgo my anti depressants. I also know of women who put out on the 2nd date and their relationship is so delightful it makes me actually believe in a Taylor Swift song. Make up your own rules, go crazy. Have fun. Dance on unflat surfaces. What is the point of following rules that are not logically proven to provide success and could rob you of endless orgasms and champagne, which in the end is what life is really all about.

Contemporary philosopher blogs: be more rude

I have a well defined well structured white bone to pick with the contemporary philosophizing bloggers of my generation. With the exception of stuffyoudothatbothersme and katheats, a blog about used to be non skinny girl a woman who photographs everything she eats, and if she wasn't so painfully dreary I would try to be her best friend, the female blogs of my generation are in need of a serious extreme home makeover. I am an avid blog reader, mostly to make sure that no one is stealing my ideas and I find that what the women are saying is rather unsexual. We are the generation of the 3 T's Tutors, Technology, and Tequila so it is more than disturbing that women have less to write about than what they are wearing, what boys they like, how their dates were, and why the South Beach Diet works temporarily. Where are the intellectual writers about sexy international politics, fine wines, quality opera, and endangered animals? It appears that for now, I will have to be the mouthpiece in more ways than one and be made an example of what intellectual sophisticates should be concerning themselves with.
My generation suffers from fear of pushing the boundaries, so I challenge all of you to write what you feel know that your ideas are not as rude, racist, or politically incorrect as you think and it isn't slutty to sleep around if they are rich and you are safe.

Making Amends

I am never ever wrong. But, I have erred in behavior and acted in ways that sound less than socialite creme de la creme behavior. So I would like to apologize to those i have morally offended on the medium of the glittertherapy blog. The fact is, being rude is never cool unless you are talking to a liberal or someone who considers Diane von Furstenberg haute couture. Even glitter girls like your truly screw up, offend, bleed, smack, rip apart, and steal things.

Sister: I am sorry I purposely peed on your sandals in St. Tropez when I was jealous that mother loves you more because you have better hair. I am also sorry for saying that you were a selfish bitch when you wouldnt move to Paris with mother and I in 2004.

Brother: I am sorry I called you a fruitcake when you were little and that I enjoy seducing your friends, and I am also sorry at screaming at you for interrupting my exercises in the fitness center. I am also sorry for stealing your cigs. I am also sorry that my room is bigger than yours, but you have your own house in Nantucket and your own suite in Antigua and a volcano named after you so I am not as sorry for my bigger living arrangements.

Mother: I am sorry I steal your makeup, your louis folder, and frequently ask you to make a me a staffmember of your business staff. I understand while I was blessed with your impeccable good looks and sophisticated disposition, I most certainly did not under any circumstances inherit the fashionable gene.

Father: I am sorry I wont be able to take over your firm but will have no problem marrying the gentleman who does. I am also sorry for throwing a tantrum replete with banging fists and foaming at the mouth at Il Riccio, the Palm, Craft, Sette Mezzo, Esca, La Grenouille, The 4 Seasons, Le Bernadin, Ciprianni's and various other Italian establishments where I have made my histrionic's public to the entire dining facility.

Maids: I am sorry that I do not know where anything is and you always have to find it. I am sorry that I bleed all over my things. I am sorry that I do not give better Christmas gifts. I am sorry that you have had to witness several occasions of me giving sexual favors in exchange for jewls in my room. I am sorry that I make you listen to my problems and make you sing me to sleep and cuddle with me.

Grandmother: Sorry where when we were in Maine and I was having one of my fun mood swings and called every physician I knew screaming and crying that I had cancer, called mother's therapist to tell her I was going to slit my wrists till the ambulance comes because I was mad she was staying an extra two days in Rome, and sorry that sister and I were too scared to kill cockroaches and made you do it.

Vagina is like Cartier

There is nothing more sacred to me than my vagina and my meds. People may say that vagina is taboo or innapropriate but when fully analyzed that is a bit like accusing me of suggesting that conversing about my aorta is somehow offensive. The fact is all of God's creatures were put on this earth through a vagina even if you are poor or fat. My suggestion to men who want to get close to a woman's vagina is treat it as if you were buying a piece of jewlery. Spend an obscene and highly offensive amount of money, talk to experts about whether this piece is the right one, and be gentle until it is more worn because as Lady Gaga once said it me, "if it isn't rough it isnt fun"
In terms of my personal vagina, I am quite scared of it. It is such a powerful tool and when used correctly, can give me the life I know I was born to live. One with diamond encrusted devices that double as a yacht and plane and a home off the coast of the mediterranean. I do not plan on having children come out of it as peeing is a difficult task enough. I am also so lazy that I cannot imagine pushing for that long and I really look ugly in hospital gowns unless mine is dolce and gabbanna.  I also hate nurses because most did not go to medical school and have strangely high pitched inflected speech. I also do not like babies because they cry and are so fragile and frequently die when shaken which is a problem since I shake most things when anxious and upset. I also was a shaken baby and do not want to pass this tradition along since I am uncertain the full mental affects it has had on my wellbeing.
My Vagina also needs serious grooming at all times since I like it bedazzled with pearls and sapphire's to remind me of my puppies. When I go for my daily brazilian, I am always frightened that my asian slave is going to begin to go down on me and I will still have to tip her, even though I do not enjoy when women lick me.
Vagina is powerful, treat it like an expensive peace of jewelry and try to avoid having people come out of it since they cry and demand full attention. Miserable.

The Secret To small talk

What I believe small talk is , is that painful conversation between two or people about things that do not matter such as, your overall state of being, how your children are, why you are at that particular place, and where you are going after. In my expert opinion, small talk should be avoided at all costs. Whoever said that religion and politics should be avoided at cocktail parties is sorely mistaken as controversy is the essence of a good conversation, along with commentary on the volatile stock market. I frequently comment to my jewish friends about how sexy it is to be chosen, and amongst my waspy friends talk about how strong the martini is and how good my backhand at tennis is getting and how I couldnt be more excited for my christmas holiday in the Caribbean where I can fraternize with black people in their own habitat. The fact is, at first they will be shocked, but then they will embrace and share their own comments on being chosen, and how they feel about fraternizing with the black community.

Whilst I am not for personally offending anybody, I do find it offensive when people bother to comment on the unusually cold weather or how cute Obama's dog is. This to me provides the impression that I am not interesting enough to talk about your cocaine habit when you were  in university or that you are sleeping with your tennis instructor. 

 I do not learn anything from typical small talk conversation except that the people I am surrounded by are actually more boring than I even thought in the first place.  Good small talk however, is an essential skill that one must master in order to become the creme de la creme top parisian socialite. I remember once at a cocktail party, I met a man who made small talk with me for the motive I assume was he wanted to take me to my room and have sex with me while swinging on my chandelier that I got when I was 8 for giving up my diamond pacifier. He turned out to be a fertility physician. Instead of normally asking him, where he went to medical school, if he enjoys this practice of giving women who have clearly been told by God that they are not supposed to have children, children, and whether or not I am cut out for medical school, I proceeded to ask him what specifically I need to do to get my body quote baby ready while still indulging in my rock star lifestyle. He claimed this was impossible, yet I assume he is not aware that the way I plan on having children is having maid carry them for me.

I then asked him, if physically, my body looked quote baby ready to which he became bright red cleared his throat and excused himself to the bathroom which is small talk cocktail party code for you are so freaking weird I cant handle it but if we were at a bar I would take you to the mens room and makeout and put my finger in your pants. 

There is nothing more painful to me than being in a party or setting where small talk is necessary and actually make small talk. I have absolutely no interest in telling people how my day is going and what I plan on doing next year. I would much rather talk about how the Jewish gentlemen to my right looks rich and isnt wearing a wedding ring, or how badly I wish it were appropriate to crush xanax and put them in my veuve cliquot in public instead of in the ladies room, and how I would most definitely have sex with the cator waiter after the party if his job wasnt a cator waiter. I would also have no problem asking for sex, money, real estate or social climbing advice from others more aware than myself. 

The Grocery store: common folk gathering and severe bouts of depression

I very rarely go to the Grocery Store as a place with so much food and so many common folk give me severe anxiety. To be certain, I have not entered a place of food selling since the early Bush administration for fear of contracting a sexually transmitted disease by holding on to the carts. Although, I do enjoy filling out the food stamp application just for good fun.
   I also do not know the difference between most types of food and forever lost among the aisles rendering me incapable of finding my nanny. The grocery store reeks of my depressed youth of hanging out in the magazine stands talking to the checkout ladies about Britney's latest umbrella antics when I could not be bothered to attend my geometry lecture with my anorexic asian incapable of speaking english retarded teacher. However, these experiences lead my tutor to write me a phenom essay for getting into University about how I relate to people of the check out class. Obviously, the only part of the grocery store that satisfies me is the liquor but normally they do not serve veuve.
 I also have horrific childhood memories of being at the Large King Kullen in the Hamptons and urinating all over the floor, or perhaps that was sister but it was all the more traumatic. The king kullen hamptons is perhaps the only grocery store I will go into because the fact of its summery rich location gives society the message that I have a home in the hamptons of which I need to buy groceries for, even though the Hamptons is over and is more for people reminiscent of the 90's.  I also remember screaming at mother if she would not get me rock candy at the checkout stand leaving me subjected a lecture about how must children do not get to have rock candies, a lesson of which I still do not fully comprehend.

Thriving on uncomfortable situations that are highly amusing to myself

1. asking people that are "hooking up", which I assumes means having casual sex when he pays for dinner and texts referring to women as baby, which is borderline pedopheliac, how long they have been hooking up, if they like each other for reasons other than their hot bodies and sexual frustration.

2. Asking women who have been recently divorced if the mistress is prettier, if shes getting a good settlement, if she thinks its her fault, if she is going to see a shrink

3. Asking rich democrats how they would feel if half a dozen poor kids in Africa could stay in their 5th Avenue Pied-a-terre for just a couple of weeks.

4. telling clearly poor people how rich they look

5. Asking brother and sister intimate questions about sex and techniques they recommend

6. Asking jappy jewish suburban tiffany bracelet sorority loving girls how they define class

7. dirty dancing with girlfriends who are prudes

8. conversing about (prescribed) drugs

9. referring to the maids as the help in daily conversation

10. farting/queefing/peeing during massage

Im the best thing you ever had

The 90's all girl band sensation endorsed by P.Diddy Dream said "Stop making me feel bad, Im the best thing you ever had, the only thing Im guilty of, is giving you too much love"-Dream. I obviously become obsessed with anything that a rich black rapper who throws a white party and no one comments on the reverse racism comedic element of this endorses. Sister informed me that P. Diddy endorses Zac Posen, whom I had never heard of since he is American and at first I thought he was a gentleman that I had done an erotic soft core porn film in Berlin during Bush Senior's administration. But after I made the connection that he was an A list designer I immediately purchased 47 Zac Posen items on Amazon.
Back to my point about inconcessantly giving too much love, in my life, I completely relate with the 90's pop sensation that I truly am the best thing you ever had, and am constantly under appreciated which leads to my manic bi polar borderline personality anxious narcissistic depressive disposition. For example, fabulous french creme de la creme bistro calls me because naturally my assistant's number is in the system and she gave them my phone number to inform me that mother's wallet was left at Bistro. Mother is leaving for Europe today, so without me, she would have been without her identification and credit cards. I frequently lose things and leave things at creme de la creme bistros as well, so the veuve does not fall far from the tree. The point is that because I exist, mother has her wallet, best thing she ever had.
My Dear skinny brunette friend, who is highly liberal but I forgive her because she is rich and pretty and well dressed and introduces me to beautiful people and gets me invited to top parties, and is highly intelligent and sophisticated and dates royalty, was writing about texting and romance, a highly interesting topic, and asked me if she knew of any matchmakers and shrinks to speak to. Naturally I do, as matchmakers and shrinks are an integral are part of my staff. Im the best thing she ever had. But due to her ability and her support in helping me social climb, she could be one of the best things I ever had too.

No Room Service is Tough: What are you thankful for?

I would enjoy spending thanksgiving in my therapists office or with my imaginary boyfriend or with my trainer. But I do appreciate the importance of giving thanks to the important things in life, like expensive booze, klonopin, birth control, credit cards, dinner reservations, in touch magazine, sleek guns, push up bras, pedicures, soft core porn, sarah palin, sequins, goldfish crackers, oral sex, drivers, brunch, happy endings after massage.

Not so Socialite this week

I did some sketchy non socialite things this week, which must mean one thing. One of my other personalities have taken over, which means time to take a visit to shrink number 4 and re work the meds. This should be good. I hope I dont have to go down on her again to get double dosage.
1. I went to the Western Union to pick up cash since carrying cash is vulgar.
2. Read thru people's emails on their phone when they were not looking,
3. Hired private detective to see if father is hiding any money from me in the Cayman Islands
4. hooked up with a guy who works at Target and doesnt have teeth
5. ass waxing
6. sold my pony, as I need the cash for marijuana to attreact a young hipster indie emo songwriter who's hip bones will most likely crush me due to his philosophy that hunger is suffering and we all are all sufferers ( so not my philosophy), but his grandfather found oil in Mississippi. Thus, he is my new best friend who I go down on.
7. filled out an adoption form lest my drugs make me barren, do not want to be on waiting list to get pretty romanian princess slave child.
8. applied for the phone sex position at 1-800-hotlips,
9. baked a cake, but do not have oven nor do I know how to use it so it was more I bought a cake and told people I baked it, and tagged the album as I baked a cake.
10. Got clitoris 24 carat piercing taken out, I got it so that gentlemen would be able to find it easier but  as pretty and as affective as it was, it was effecting my studies and more importantly, there is no point in wearing jewels if it cannot be photographed, and and facebook does not permit pictures of vaginas, even mine. I asked.

Was it Good for you?

It doesn't matter so much if it was good for me, but if it was good for you, and how I am going to be rewarded. I do not accept checks.

Girls who call each other bitches is in poor taste, and for that matter, so is not inviting me to your birthday party

Bitches give sluts a very bad name. I absolutely love to act/dress/pretend/jump up and down/ as if I am very slutty when my slutty personality wants to showcase itself. I however, am most definitely not a bitch. I love my family, maids, and dogs and frequently give hugs to friends if it will be photographed.
Im all for drinking champagne with girlfriends and meeting rich men, as much as I am for the republicans in the house. However, I've noticed among my contemporary philosophers that they greet each other calling each other  bitch. I.E hey bitch, what's up bitch. It sounds like we have taken a nasty detour down trailerpark lane sauteed with wifebeaters, blue eyeliner and acryllic nails. Excuse me while I vomit my already vomited lunch,
I would much prefer seeing some double cheek air kisses and comments on how rich/pretty/skinny the friend looks.. Calling each other bitches sounds like we are all members of the same group in jail, which would be acceptable in actual prison, but not in actual society, I.E bars. Its not a conducive term to spreading love, friendship, and mutual understanding of each others friendship, which is what I try to do when Im not trying to steal someone's medication. Its one thing to refer to a woman as a bitch if she is actually a bitch. I.E she wears fake eyelashes on tuesdays, has a bigger trust fund, hooked up with your ex, cheats at life (the boardgame) without getting caught, and overall permeates negative energy with her not so sunny disposition. If she meets any of the criteria, she is most likely a huge loose bitch.
So, calling your friends bitches as terms of endearment only diminishes the power of the word to describe rude  women who sleep with boyfriends and make being slutty look trashy, instead of how I attempt to make slutty, which is really fun and tasteful as I wash makeup off and wear Prada to work.I hope to see more double kisses and pretty girls hugging in tagged photos, and hope to hear less name calling. Though due to my personalized selective hearing, I trust this mission will be fairly facile.

Medication, Alcohol and My Nanny

Much to the chagrin of feminists and father, I will most likely need an african/ caribbean american nanny until I am 40 and when I have my very own step children, we will most likely share.Hopefully father will still get me my own so I do not get jealous of the steppies.  It is not rare that friends will ask me who I am on the phone with and the answer is the maid. Its cheaper than therapy and a lot more useful because they tell me Im pretty and then make me lentil soup and turn my tivo on to soft core porn and bring me my mail and vibrator. One problem Ive found is that in the Caribbean they are not raised with making Mimosa's so the Orange Juice Champagne ratio is forever off during's my ladies who brunch and talk about caviar and oral sex.

 The fact is there is pretty much nothing I can do alone except take my medication and put on lube and sometimes even make them do that for me. Due to the family rules (see september blog) I have had many a nanny and have learned important lessons brought straight from the Caribbean to America/Europe. The most important probably is that if you pay someone they will tell you that you look nice. Father and Mother once hired a male french nanny but I made him too uncomfortable by trying to ask him to finger me in french ( I was 10, so I didnt know yet that hooking up with the help is a coach ticket to whitetrash and that being easy isnt cute, although since I was so tight and little, it might be the exception) and also his employment didnt work out due to the fact that most of society believed mother and he were dating which we all consider one of our favorite family cocktail party stories. 

Wrongly Interpreted Kiss

Ill give my kissing capabilities a solid C plus, maybe a B minus if the gentleman has taken 4 shots of patron and a painkiller. Mostly because I am saving my saliva for oral sex as I find that blow jobs breed diamonds. So naturally, I do not take very much time perfecting my kissing skills and usually end up very lost in a gentleman's mouth. Kissing is dangerous, one's eye's are closed so I never know who is stealing my medication from my purse, taking a picture, or planning on coming at me from behind to hug or rape me.
Last week,  I was having a pleasant conversation with a wasp who was drinking scotch so I knew he had mummy issues , and proceeded to attack my target. Men under the age of 45 drinking scotch are seriously disturbed itso facto my type. So while we were engaging in what I like to call the bar game, which in my case usually fails, as men my own age are put out of their comfort zone when I ask them their thoughts on why they think Alexander Mcqueen killed himself. How bout them Yankees? This man was enjoying my company, probably because I made it painfully obvious that I was down to put out or I was drinking and it was an illusion. So as we were leaving the club he told me his driver would drive us home, which obviously was better news than republicans taking the house, or maybe just as good. When men mention the word driver, I am so hot and bothered it would not be unusual for me to give the driver a lap dance before we end up home.  So as we pulled up to my address and my best friend/ Sri Lankan Doorman was waiting for me. (Just kidding he is usually sleeping) My new boyfriend kissed me goodnight. I interpreted this kiss as an invitation for making out and proceeded to take my sweater off and breathe heavily but in the midst of doing this he had already pulled away and was extremely confused. So I had interpreted his goodnight kiss as an invitation for things to get weird, which only left me looking half naked and really slutty.
So, for the next time, I need to read signals better and ensure that when a gentleman takes me home in a car with his driver and drinks scotch and is 22 he probably has a serious case of high allowance and low emotional love in his home, and should not try to put out right away as he is a potential conquest and thus should go slow. Also, he was actually trying to be nice and give me a kiss goodnight, there was no reason to sit on his lap and take my sweater off after one peck. Ill be sure to watch the number of veuve's.

The Disney Princess Disease

Every girl I know is obsessed with the Disney Princesses, and why shouldnt they be? They are hot rich for the most part white biatches that live in castles and marry well. Over careful analysis Ive noticed that the majority of the Disney Sluts are flawed and I freakishly share some of their traits. hopefully however, this will not prevent me from living a castle and finding my very own white version of Aladdin when he inherits the Sultanate and resolves peace in the Middle East and our magic carpet ride is code for doing designer drugs.

Princess Ariel: I too frequently talk to my fish friends, brush my hair with silverware, and do not enjoy fathers who reprimand their daughters, often lose my voice from screaming at the help.

Princess Jasmine:  I too only like rich version of Aladdin, enjoy being taken over sideways and under, wear my hair in a strange ponytail, do not have my own song, talk to father about frequent prospects,

Snow White:  I too would have no problem having relations with 7 midgets, have a mummy who enjoys looking in the mirror, do not like scrubbing floors and do a mediocre job, eat apples that most likely have poison or bacteria, have a poor understanding of fashion, have a laugh that sounds like I am dropping acid,

Belle, I too speak bad french, would hang out with a beast if he had a big house, would most definitely without question go into the forbidden west wing where I was told not to go, talk to my dresser, eat soup, would not go down on Gaston,

Sleeping Beauty: I too would enjoy being drugged for 100 years of sleep

Cinderella: Since she essentially is the help I have nothing in common with her accept for the fact that my fairy godmother is also Whitney Houston

Pochahantas: I too talk to trees, consider most men savages, paint with the colors of the wind when heavily medicated.

More confessions

1. I ask people for their pin even though I dont have a blackberry
2. I hate cheese
3. Im jealous of shrink's kids,
4. I frequently double my dosage
5. When people ask what Im wearing I say Zac Posen
6. No idea how to floss, except for vagina
7. I make my masseuse wear a mask and be quiet except to tell me im pretty every 15 minutes, and purposely forget to tip
8.  I fart and say I absolutely under no circumstances did I fart.
9. I make the Stewardi on planes fill out my customs forms
10. I buy books at Barnes and Noble about how to give good oral sex and ask the cashiers for their personal opinion about my reading material and if they recommend one that has more interesting tricks

My Summer Facility: an intermingle of artsy jewish preteens with an affinity for ADD medication

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