enjoy my rockstar lifestyle

I am extremely open about my alcoholic neurotic erotic exotic hypnotic lifestyle. Feel free to join the party and social climb with me or stand back and judge, and thats ok. the judgers probably have unresolved daddy issues sauteed with losing virginity too early.
Or if not, maybe the judgers are simply confused about my quest to become the creme de la creme top new york parisian socialite who speaks without prepositions, i.e we go here now? ok i go now.  Instead of asking questions, they find it easier to judge, but if I let every little biatch stand in my way I would have a lot more therapists than 2. Usually while talking about my slutty alcoholic prescription drug habits with people that do not know me well, they either embrace it or run the other direction. Those who run the other direction, Im wondering where are you going? what are you afraid of? Trust me, the other direction is a lot less chaotic but probably really boring and contained with people that only fly coach. I want the judgers to join me for a bottle of veuve, a xanax, a vicodin, a valtrex, a skinny cigarette, and a hollywood agent and then make an executive decision whether your life hasnt changed for the better.
As for now, I fake it till I make it, or at least take pictures of myself trying really hard to make it. But I challenge those who judge to party with me, and see what the rockstar lifestyle entails. I trust that you too will soon see the benefits of prescribed medication, dancing on tables, and getting fingered by ceo's. Its highly fulfilling.

November Goals

expedite trust fund
acquire half dozen more rich black friends
speak more french in daily conversation
tweet at my lawyer
sleep with neighbors
chin rhinoplasty
eat every meal at ciprianni's
wear underwear
play twister with people over 40
audition for the erotic film
develop bulimia and vomit with my wand
stop pooping

where are the

The 90's and early milenium was a time when fabulous respectful women were on television that neurotic alcoholic social climbing sluts like myself could look up to. There was Ally McBeal, the smart anorexic lawyer who sleeps with her boss, obviously enviable. There was Rachel Green the dumb waitress turned Ralph Lauren buyer who slept her way to the job, cool. Rory Gilmore the waify know it all who goes to Yale and assumes to marry well, although she leaves working for a democrat which was the only ill redeemable thing about her. And of course Carrie Bradshaw, the mediocre writer with great shoes, Mr. Big and highly unexplored Daddy issues.
So what now, where are the hot televised women who are thin, rich, smart, have great shoes, sleep with bosses, and work for Ralph Lauren without any fashion education what soever?
Because they are nonexistent, I have decided to start being intellectual. Reading classic russian literature, watching fox news, speaking French and Arabic, and watching opera on youtube. I have also decided that I need to start doing more charity so I have something else to talk about at cocktail parties besides my therapists. I saw a little african american girl on the street playing dance dance revolution and began to cry that I do not do enough for the world. Join me on this journey

Hot mess is not something to celebrate

I would like to preface this blog, as this idea is not my own. A very select important member of my inner circle writes an effing fabulous blog called stuffyoudothatbothersme.com. She wrote about hotmesses and I would like to add to what she said. It is quite clear from the blog that she is a rich genius and that is why we are friends. She was the one whom I smoked my first skinny cigarette with, but I believe we lit it and threw it out the penthouse window. She was the first person I call when anyone in the staff is fired and helps me get dressed as if it wasnt for her, I would probably still be wearing juicy couture sweats. She is probably one of the skinniest, funniest, best dressed, down to earth, first class well travelled person I know. Im also jealous of her because she has a driver who is more fun than mine. But enough about stuff that bothers me, its time for the hot mess.
Being a hot mess, so many problems. Its one thing to dress slutty, hook up with rich men, drink a lot, and have intellectual chats with drug dealers. It is quite another to look like you did all those things. Its essential to go home and hire someone to fix your makeup before venturing out into the world again after a night of social climbing and dry humping. This way, if you need to lie about your wherabouts it looks a lot more believable to say I was working on a powerpoint presentation if your breath does not smell like cocaine and you have a fresh coat of eyelashtints and you changed your thong. Or in my case, put on underwear.

Socialites dont pop pills

Rolling on ex is not conducive to social climbing. These types of pills are used at concerts, raves, or underground swinger parties where ceos and rich men are not found. In my quest to roll (pun intended) with more rich people, I have discovered that pills do not lead me to these people which is only why I take prescribed pills. Furthermore, I never go an hour without drinking veuve and it is highly dangerous to drink and roll. I do not want to die, quite yet, mostly because I havent decided what chic hospital I want to donate my body to and I need to ensure that the Oxford a cappella group is available for my funeral.

Negative Text Messages

There is something extremely unsexy sophisticated about texting. Even the word sounds unsexy. TExt. Sounds like something people do in the projects. Please call me so I can hear your voice and we can discuss any rich men that you have met for me to potentially dry hump and live in their yacht. Texting is of course acceptable when in the club and the OMG.... the DJ has us falling in love again..  is playing and I will not be able to hear your voice. obviously these tunes need to immediately be grinded to and or fingered against a wall to with the gentlemen who so kindly purchased the 16 bottles of veuve. Baby, let me love you now.
THE ABSOLUTE WORST is texting negative thoughts directed at me, towards me, or about beer because thats disgusting. Negative energy permeates through the sweaty air of the club and entraps both texter and the Textee involved. When I get a negative text, such as " Biatch, you really dont look rich tonight and you are bleeding in a way thats not cute", I immediately have to re medicate and have colonics to cleanse me of the bad toxins. I sometimes even have to inject myself with vitamin C, which is why I bring my syringe wherever I go.
 I suppose whilst in the club, and the girl at the table who is sleeping with ex boyfriend is wearing an Herve Leger dress that accents the largeness of the buttocks and Christian L shoes that were clearly shop lifted since she lives in JappySuburb, you may text me to comment about this. But in the end, texting is not intimate,mean texts make me feel sad. Usually I do not feel sad because I am so medicated, but when I get a text that cuts through the dosage I have to up my dosage and blog about it.
If you have a problem, please call me and we'll discuss, and then get plastered and buy shoes. and stop at CVS.
Ciao

Daddies are great wingmen

Father is one of my dearest friends. He taught me that money talks, nobody walks, when in doubt speak italian, and there is nothing as satisfying as having a beautiful family featured in the Sunday Times, which I frequently am. Once. There is nothing I like more than going to hot bars with father. I do not have to sleep with anyone to have my drinks bought for me but I prob will anyway. It is also amusing when I tell men that I am with father, it creates a precedent that establishes I am clearly off my rocker. What wannabe socialite attends bars with father? This one!, and here's why. As it is obvious my goal is to meet hot, rich,  business men with a device that doubles as a yacht and plane, what better way to meet these gentlemen than with one of their own? Unfortunately, father does not find it amusing that I actively flirt with his colleagues but we are such dear friends that we even share with each other what kind of porn we like. Or at least, I do, and I believe he pretends not to speak english and starts speaking Italian to the bartender regardless of whether the bartender is Italian.
Now, of course these men are at least twice my age with children of my own age, which is exactly what I am looking for. It is most definitely my calling to be a fabulous step mother so I can equally divide my time between being a socialite and being a mummy. There is nothing sexy about a 40 year old without children regardless of whether they are hers. Whenever the society pages feature women in their 40's who do not have children I immediately assume she must be a hermaphrodite. So, in order to escape pre conceived ideas of my child bearing capabilities, I will most definitely always have beautiful brunette waspy children in my photos post 40.

Lessons from J.D Salinger

J.D Salinger is arguably one of the best authors. J.D Salinger was able to turn Holden Caufield, an otherwise boring,women hating, unhappy, anti social, dessert hating, depressed young 20 year old like the rest of us, seem sexy and mysterious.  J.D Salinger is the opposite of glitter. He is truly the anti-social social climber who could not care less about drinking champagne or sleeping with people to get ahead. So as a reclusive, people hating author, my question is where did his inspiration come from? I consider myself essentially on the same level as J.D, as we are both internationally recognized, but I do not believe he was interested in starring in adult entertainment. I often wonder where my inspiration would come from if I was not out in society, asking people where they get their drugs, if they have shrinks that do not drive them crazy, if they have help that actually cleans, how often they use their vibrators, and how to matriculate the hottest clubs. My interactions in my quest as  a social climbing neurotic wanna be -socialite-mafia member-high class hooker- inspire me to write and tell the tale. It is good to know however, that if something goes wrong with my medications and I do decide to drop out of society, I have the potential to create a character that girls will want to have sex with.

My changes to facebook

Facebook is obviously a phenom way to show the virtual world what a fabulous rich sophisticated neurotic slutty alcoholic wanna be socialite I am. But there are several alterations I would like to see happen on this social network. Mark (zuckerberg) and I were having lunch the other day in Dubai, and he'll kill me for saying this, but he said, that he really thought that Facebook has become a prime reason for lack of productivity for this generation. and then he laughed and said he was kidding and spit out his prime rib. Hes so great, I am currently developing the perfect undetected arsenic to kill his girlfriend so that I can be diamond encrusted mrs. glitteryfacebook.
1. Why cant you be in a relationship with yourself?
2. Why arent you allowed to post tasteful nude photos?
3. Why dont people say what designers they are wearing when they are tagged?
4. Why doesnt it ask your net worth on your profile?
5. Why have bumper stickers become passe? I would enjoy bringing them back
6. Why do potential employers care that in a photo a potential employer is semi intoxicated insterting items into themselves as a prank when it is on their own time?
7. Why are some people unsearchable?
8. Why cant I know the administrative facebook password?
9. Why wont my shrinks accept my friendship request?

A tribute to the sound of Music: How do you solve a problem like Maria

Before I get into the genius of the Sound of Music, I want to remind readers that all aspects of this film are how I plan on living most of my adult life. From the large home in Austria, to leaving the nunnery, to having a semi Nazi boyfriend, and to lots of harmonies with my brother and sister.

The Sound of Music is arguably one of the best films of all time. It combines my loves of singing, family values, rich people, war against the Nazis, and celebration of the help. While my version of "these are a few of my favorite things" go a bit differently than raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens, although I am extremely fond of brown paper packages tied up with string, especially if it is a bomb.

My version I assume would go, champagne, dark chocolate, and diamond studded trust funds, silver white crystal meth that I melt into springs, these are a few of my favorite things. When the dolphin bites, when the injections sting, when Im feeling sad, I simply remember my prescriptions and then I dont feel- so bad. la la la la la.
Captain Von Trapp is most definitely the highlight of this film, he exudes erotic sex appeal and his ability to sing while still appearing masculine mysterious and removed, gets me extremely hot and bothered . I have gleaned incredible parenting tips including the use of a whistle and employing young attractive people whom I end up sleeping with. The scene of the ball where the children perform is how I imagine my third wedding, Nazi flags not included.
While I like Captain Von Trapp,  do not appreciate the children parading around in Curtains. I definitely approve of the children spending more time with nanny maria than with father.
Not to mention the hot foreplay scene with the oldest daughter and her Nazi boyfriend who I assume, whom the father does not approve of, is the recipe for really ridiculous sex.
But I still do not know the answer of how to solve the problem like Maria? Maybe this is one of the film's underlying symbolic questions. My other question is how do you solve a problem like making more films that have these important values?

No title

I lie, steal, cheat and do prescription drugs but I am still a really good person. I recycle and text people to ask them if they want to come out with me. I call my grandmother, I give to charity when I want to feel smart. I re use my jokes if they get a particularly good response, I am a good listener when I drink a lot and enjoy dancing with other people's clients. I like to sing a lot and I also play the piano sort of.  I am working on a business model to sell orgasms. I like organic ice cream with chocolate and rainbow sprinkles. I put my skinny cig out in other people's ice cream's. I am friends with all people including oil tycoon's, people on welfare, drug dealers, ambassadors, and nutritionists and would have no problem inviting them all to my birthday party. I would tell them not to bring a gift and expect them to. I think God is sexy. I only like Chanel because it sends the message you are rich and dignified and the C's look like it could stand for cunt.

I do jumping jacks in public. I pet all dogs I see. If you have a fast car and smoke cigars there is a highly probable chance I will have sex with you. I like getting manicures and eyelash tints/extensions. I listen to Verdi and play chess while reading Chekhov. I subscribe to the Enquirer. I have spent two weeks in a trailer park but I brought my own veuve and xanax.

Disturbing dream

I had a a dream that I lost all of my things and then maid found them and came on to me and I was into it. This is extremely disconcerning as my sub conscious finds it acceptable to socialize with the help.

Straight Bi racial porn poses a lot of questions

I have some serious issues with bi racial porn. First of all, it is not arousing or erotically stimulating because of the societal implications. My first thought is, are the couples parents ok with the fact that their partner is of a different race?
If it is a black man and a white woman I cannot help but fear that the man is hurting her with his largeness.
If it is a white man and a black woman I think of third president Thomas Jefferson raping his slaves, which makes me very upset. Thomas also makes me upset in general because he is on such a useless bill.
I think that the porn actors of a different race should make clear these issues before they start the porn so that the audience can enjoy their performance in peace without wondering about these issues.

Kappa Kappa Kill me

Sororities are a terrific opportunity to practice social climbing skills. You pay to have friends. You are classsy because you use greek letters and greek life offers a great opportunity to meet rich fraternity men.  I knew it was my calling to be in a sorority until I realized that a majority of sorority girls except of course for for the ones reading these posts, are juicy couture wearing beer drinking jappy unintelligent sluts who cant get through a sentence without raving about their big sisters and little sisters. I am all for family values as that is a firm Ronald Reagan principle, but I do not believe it applies to non blood family. Dont get me wrong, some of the most well respected women belonged to sororities, but they did not fit the majority and most of them also belonged to a secret society within the sorority. I have tried to create my own secret society, but father refuses to fund a society thats basis is not founded in Opera or fashion. I also am not very good at keeping secrets that make me sound hip.

  I thought I was destined to be in a sorority and even called Molly Sim's agent and asked to have her write me a letter.

However, do to my inability to carry on a conversation without talking about doing drugs with rich people I was no longer a qualified sorority woman, which nearly killed me and lead me on a weekend retreat to mexico with my shrink and my healer. After floods of tears of tantrums, three lymphatic drainages, and a series of spells performed by the healer, I finally came to terms with the fact, that talking about recreational prescription drug use and dancing on tables is part of my core.

So yes, rushing did nearly kill me, and do to my heavy medication I am at peace with my un greek self and can meet rich men and drink champagne with those of my dearest whom I choose to matriculate. 

Its definitely an accomplishment when I...

 get out of bed
brush my teeth/hair/ arm hair
use bodywash
wear a bra
not cry
not injure myself via tripping elliptical or kegels
put on makeup normally
not call a shrink when i have an emotional problem
not call an IT guy when I have a computer problem
take the proper doses of all my meds
not spill anything over anyone
not lose my credit card/ diamond clit ring/ keys/ id/shoes/camera/gun
not steal magazines
develop a symptom that requires a higher dosage
not bleed
tweet at a celebrity and get a response
have sex without getting pregnant
give good head
win at chess at the highest level
by a designer item and have people ask me about it

Its better in St Tropez

Its pretty obvious to my inner circle that I consider the Chateau de La Massiediere my home away from home. I certainly act like its home since I frequently walk around the lobby naked and appropriately flirt with all of the concierge's with my amazing french. i'm pretty sure they are impressed and do not even believe I am American. And when I speak English, I only speak in the present tense without prepositions to sound even more foreign. I.E, WE Go here now? I meet you 1 am, your suite? C'est bon!!

 St. trop, a perfect paradise for a glitter girl like yours truly. fast cars, champagne, p. diddy, tara reid, dolce and gabanna, clubbing with russians, and meeting really interesting people. My dearest Russian friend told me her boyfriend owns all of Kuwait and he did that by stealing one penny out of everyone's bank account. She also felt he was too fat so she sent him to a boot Switzerland Fat camp where he survived on 400 calories a day and had to take ice baths for 15 minutes every night. I obviously signed myself right up, this sounds like my kind of jam. I remember running into tara reid and the celebrity screwer that I am was so enamored with the josie and the pussycat american pie sensation that I sat with her by the pool and fed her french fries. I think she really liked me. She also asked me for a cigarette and I gave it to her. I asked her if we could share it and her expression on her face said no. Thats ok, maybe next time.
I also learn a lot about relationships. One sunny afternoon at around 4:30 I decided it was time for lunch at Club SANC Un SANC (55). There is a huge vegetable platter  that obviously  is reused since no one can eat 5 pounds of veggies at one lunch. My schmoozy boozy lunch was with  a fit rich hopefully republican couple and their child. The husband was american and the wife was german. the child only spoke german so his father was not able to communicate with him. The couple had met on a reality show and only saw each other a few times a year. Fantastic. The child was so well behaved and only ate his vanilla ice cream without much noise. I hope one day as well that my child will not be able to communicate with his father and only speak german.

True Life: I go clubbing with my parents

Its quite obvious im freakishly obsessed with mother and father. They are gorgeous and really well dressed and know a lot about the stock market. While most of my lessons of how to be a contemporary rockstar popsensation come from both mother and father, they like to be the stars of the show, and as a respectful loving, and dutiful daughter who hopes to get her trust fund sooner rather than later, I let them have it. I party with my parents because naturally they are older, wiser, richer, and more attractive and itso facto, they know a lot of rich men. Partying with mother and father exposes me to my most favorite types of men.

Several celebrations of the birth of Jesus's ago, When partying in St. Barths with mother during a party that we may or may not have been invited too. You see, I heard loud music and saw flashing lights and begged mother to call her Pakistani Economist friend to help us in. Ive learned that it is essential to have Pakistani economists as friends as they know the best parties and surrounding yourself with them make you seem intelligent, worldly, and well rounded. He has now become one of my dearest friends, which is obvious because we frequently tweet at each other and he invited me to have dessert with some of his other contemporary economists at Bar Pitti. It was a big moment for me. Even though I didnt go because driver and his assistant weren't working and I was afraid that if one of them asked me to have his child he would say yes.
 As I dry humped and grinded with St. Barths finest whilst simultaneously smoking skinny cigarettes and taking pictures, I realized how blessed I am to have parents who are beautiful and intelligent and get me into great parties and have instilled in me the value of saying please and thank you to bouncers.

Lately, everyone has a "sinus infection"

Walking around the green square shaped grass of my current third world country living arrangements, Ive noticed the sniffles, sneezes, and incessant wiping of the noses. At first glance, I am disgusted and horrified that my contemporary philosophers have not immediately taken up this issue with some sort of health service provider, but then after a further careful analysis I observed my fellow snifflers. These kids were hot, thin, and were carrying 80's Hermes bags, they were not sick, they were suffering from the remains of white powder stuck in their nose. I will no longer slap these snifflers across the face with my amex (dont want to to get sick), I will politely ask them, where are you getting your illegal white powder and do you mind if we can be friends so we can talk about it a lot and pretend its 1985 and the economy is rocking and Reagan is president all whilst wearing herve leger dresses in fancy powder rooms? looking forward to it.

Classy yet erotically charged my life be like oh ah

Maybe its the fact that several of my dearest have showed me their engagement rings or the new display on van cleef website or my newly downloaded rich people soft core porn eating caviar off of each other that I have charged feelings of eroticism coursing through my veins mixed with the nicotine and xanax. Two things make me hot Diamonds and married men with diamond encrusted yachts. Recently whilst in a lecture concerning Russian Policy and how this effects American International Trade Imports and the volatile stock market I had to excuse myself as I so overcome with hotness I had to leave. I took  out the bedazzled vibrator in its pink sequined case that says chanel on it, turn on one of my old soft core flicks, but the one where I was the extra not where I starred. My therapist said it would not help my narcissism if I got off to myself.  Note the short lived Song OOps O my, about a similar issue I am going through, and the lovely skinny african american r & B genius has yet to be heard from again, so perhaps this doctor has a point. Either that or she give me prescriptions for vicodin and zoloft in the same bottle.  I could only imagine how uncomfortable the rest of the room would have been if the lecturer had asked where I was going and I had to reply I had to take care of myself. Im classy because I wrote to the lecturer and apologized for leaving early and brought him cookies and offered to babysit for his children when they were sleeping so I could look through wife's closet and try out her meds. I think shes an insomniac narcoleptic with a taste for designer non recreational drugs. Its going to be a good weekend.

A night at the theatre

Last weekend I saw the Littlest Foxes with hot coworker, father, and prince brother, the play hit a little too close to home.My three best friends. Father, my love, my soul, my republican flesh and blood who appreciates fine opera and scotch and stewardi. hot coworker. pretty, fun, helps me social climb as she knows many rich men. Prince Brother enjoys buying tables with me, playboy, says debatable when it is a fact. It is quite obvious that I am freakishly in love with every member of my family and it is one of my dreams to have a family you know what.  The play was a strip down bare production with no scenery and a video screen for an extra artsy affect. Father commented on the extremely new york crowd and how it was a fairly well dressed group with a limited number of african americans homosexuals and fat people. I hope that my first husband is an african american obese homosexual, who is a multimillion dollar rapper of course, just to see he and father interact. The play was roughly about a family that fought about money and there was lots of hitting, screaming, banging on the wall, rolling, on the floor, and complaints of lack of sex with a side order of forced incest. Reminded me of the late 90's early millenium. As I have said, I love the theatre, I love the passion, the raw emotion, and the reactions from the audience. Most of all I love telling rich people that I went to the theatre and how much I loved it so they think Im young yet worldly yet mysterious because I drink and talk about sex. Alot. Seeing sex scenes with father at the theatre would be uncomfortable for some but it is thrilling for me. It adds a new special bond to our relationship and after we can discuss what parts we would have enjoyed for ourselves and what parts we wouldn't. Father usually does not participate in that part of the conversation but I make it up for myself what he thought and I guarantee that I am right. Brother does not read my trials and tribulations of social climbing as he claims that my thoughts on bedazzling my vibrator are disturbing and would rather not. We got into the taxi where I spoke arabic to the driver but mostly talked about the fact that I have a big house and I like flowers and I like to read books and that i think he is pretty. I was sad driver was sick because its fun to impress coworker with driver but sickness is disgusting and if he came to work and I became deathly ill I would have to send him a nasty note. So it was a good opportunity to practice Arabic and then speak in italian with brother and father about my thoughts on the play. ciao

Family First, Unless of course something better comes up

I may be insulting to my Ronald Reagan Republican family values self. But an opportunity to attend a fabulous ball where I get to take pictures and mingle with high society has presented it self (pun obviously intended). IM COMING OUT SO WE BETTER GET THIS PARTY STARTED-PINK. WEll, Im not coming out, but a very dear blonde non jewish skinny republican friend is. If I had to pick one word to describe myself it would be schmoozesattheballwhilstdrinkingchampagne. THis seems like an ample opportunity to showcase my skills at social climbing and cocktail party conversations of the success of the republicans in the office (fingers crossed) what a shame that there are no more Harry Potter books, and my newest limosine liberal quest to save the dolphins and place them in the confines of my 50 million square foot jacuzzi and have poor kids come swim with them to help with their self esteem. Now it just so happens that the same weekend I have a family event to attend. The fact is, there will most likely not be photographers or rich Arabs I can grind with. While I am always one for putting family first, I am also one for social climbing and becoming a high class mafia hooker and meeting the creme de la creme princes and princesses of the world. A dear friend who comes from a New York dynasty, consistently refuses to hook up with me which leaves me under the impression that he is gay or that he is not amused by the scars on my legs or my chronic eyebrow pulling or my inability to hold a conversation without arbitrarily breaking out a russian accent whilst chainsmoking. I feel that once he sees the photographs of me at high society's ball, perhaps he will realize that I am worthy of his time and value important things like mingling with rich people and drinking champagne and dancing in a borrowed dress that costs more than my diamond encrusted lamp. The fact is I love my family more than my dog, but when an opportunity presents itself to be surrounded my high rollers   then i simply can not turn it down. To prepare I will most likely vomit all that week, survive on a diet of skinny cigarettes champagne and toothpaste and read international herald tribune to appear sophisticated and interesting and worldly. THe only sad thing is I will probably have to wear underwear and shave my underarms which i usually keep long and french. ciao ciao

when im bored

I put all my medications in a blender and mix them with raspberries, peanut butter, and vanilla fro yo. It's really great. Im thinking of submitting it to Jamba Juice and the name will be Medicated Vanilla Socialite. Ill let you know what they say.

thing I do to appear like a high roller intellectual ballin boss

 give a ridiculous to the bathroom attendant, but she deserves it because i always need help washing hands

 say hi to the pilot when getting onto the plane

 skip security

make references to American Plays and compare them with British Plays and quote them

 take pictures on yachts with  my parents 

 order caviar and tell them to make sure its a specific brand

 kiss the bouncer on both cheeks and compliment the waitress on her new haircut

 sight hair salon stylists like fredrick fekkai, oscar blandi ,beth minardi as dear friends

tell people im applying  to oxford since my (imaginary) bf goes there 

 vote republican

use my bidet

straighten my hair

attend restaurants that Ive heard celebrities have been

tweet that Im at Jeffries boutique in Manhattan

own exotic pets 

"borrow" any black cards I find

talk about my newest investments in the market

Is cia really my calling

I would obviously succeed at being a top alias sexy cia agent. I like to punch people, look thru peoples computers and have aliases. The problem with the CIA is I would obviously want to tell everyone that I just had dinner as a spy with one of the terrorists, and you'll NEVER guess what he told me. I am too much of social climber to succeed at keeping the latest to myself.

self help section

Whenever I go to the literature store, I always go to the self help section first, as its quite clear most of the books that were written had me in mind. I am essentially as manipulative, selfish, neurotic, semi alcholic as they come. And no matter how many times I read Hes just not that into you , I still consistently send frequent angry texts like, We had such a great chat at the bar at your table, why havent you called me yet??????????.
I start at the self help section and peruse through titles that are so overwhemingly applicable, that I am overcome with anxiety nearly undoing the work that these books are supposed to do. I often wonder if the people at the self section are there to observe others at the self help section or if they are there to actually get self help. I always purposely loudly ask the literature store workers as loud as I can where I can find titles such as How to please yourself without your man, or How to escape my abusive relationship but keep all the money?
The fact is, self help books have saved my life. I often in fact write the writers and ask if we could plan a champagne lunch to further discuss my issues. I have yet to get a response, which makes me question their abilities to make me self help. I usually try to hit on men in bookstores and so I saw this gorgeous gentlemen, but he picked up a book called how to tame your pedophiliac thoughts, and while he had a hot body, a rich looking watch, I decided that perhaps I could skip this one.

Pedro: the Poodle Walker who has seen me in my underwear

I remember when Pedro joined the family staff. I was in third grade and father had interviews at the home for potential poodlewalkers. One of the interviewees had a criminal record and was a registered sex offender but father said that his previous offenses had nothing to do with his poodle walking potential thus Juan was a possible option. Father also insisted that they are not walked in groups but solo so that they are paid enough attention to. Father also did want poodles socializing with other dogs whose owners he had not met before lest they be democrats who do not summer in Nantucket. I wholeheartedly agreed. Having precious poodles socialize with dogs who summer in the Hamptons or even a chic Kennel with dior beds, were certain to pick up bad habits. Father thought long and hard and decided on Anton, a kind man with an affinity for Marlboro's but then tragically died so his son Pedro took over. When I call him by name I make sure to roll my R's so that he knows I am understanding of his culture. Pedro is kind to me even though he has come into the pied a terre while I am still in underwear as sometimes I do not bother to get dressed. He also witnessed more than a dozen of my fits replete with red face, flood of tears, and foam at the mouth. So it did come as a surprise when he offered to set me up with his nephew who had just graduated Queens college. Im too sensitive to tell him that I do not matriculate slash fornicate with anyone of Latino mexican spanish descent unless they are royal or with people who did not  buy stock in Evian in the 80's and have not sold it. It was nice of poodlewalker for trying but sadly I had to tell him I was suffering from severe narcissistic personality disorder sauteed with overdiagnosed high anxiety disorder and had to work on myself.

new people

Its true, when I meet new people, I want to know if they can further my objective of being a top socialite in society written about in page 6. This creates an interesting paralleled contradiction as if they can help me on this journey, they most likely have a bigger yacht, a better plastic surgeon and a more lenient psychiatrist, which makes me feverishly jealous. However, I know that for my ultimate goal of being the most famous top socialite sensation who has a home off the mediterranean, I must push my jealousy aside for the time being.

However, several days or years ago, I met this women who sites rent as her favorite broadway show, wears flats and leggings to the airport, dislikes sushi, has no idea what the difference between the Barber of Seville and the Marriage of Figaro are and does not understand Russian Literature. Clearly we are different, she has no interest in becoming a top socialite, does not care to marry rich as long as he is a good family Man, and orders beer at bars, not because its cheap its because its quote chill. Confuse me? O, and she also occasionally smokes marijuana and enjoys casual sex. So is she trashy and from an un-well to do- un sophisticated family? Yes. But the fact is, I love her, she is different, she keeps me grounded and the best part is she serves no competition for the top socialite position. She is conniving in the sense that she hopes I dont become more successful than she, but all women hope to come out on top so I dont hold this against her. Its essential to have people around me with different goals who arent competing in the real estate market for the same pied a terre on fifth. She is also a great candidate for my upcoming semi tasteful nude nighly erotic threesome. 

Trick or treating for champagne and ambien

Halloween is a scary holiday. There is a lot of candy and children and slutty girls and scary movies. There are some great things about the occasion as well, its the one time of the year where multiple personality disorders are not only respected but encouraged and I am allowed to be whatever personality that strikes me that day and dress the part. This year in light of becoming a chic and sexy sophisticated socialite. I will dress up in a tasteful designer costumes and trick or treat at the various top hot spots looking for ambien. 

Perhaps one of my most memorable halloween costumes was when I was 11 and was a prom queen. I was freakishly obsessed with the late 90's flick she's all that and used to pray that I too, would one day go to school where Usher narrated noise in the background and I could be transformed into a popular prom queen. I also frequently gave myself makeovers and played the 6pence non the richer song kiss me and acted out how I would first go down on a man. So cute. One of my dear maids hand sewed the dress which i kindly asked her to start midseptember to that the fit would be perfect. I also begged mother to take me to Laura Mercier to get my makeup done so I could look like the true queen that I was. She deemed this not appropriate but I naturally I went anyway with romanian driver and she found out about it later and forgot to punish me. I truly felt like a Queen and took lots of pictures. I even shaved my legs but cut myself very badly due to my intense anxiety but luckily the dress was long enough. I put tissues in my underwear to make my butt look bigger and told all the neighbors and the doormen to check out my great tush. Then at the halloween party my then boyfriend who's father owned blockbuster wanted to kiss me in the bathroom. I told him i couldnt because I didnt know where to put my tongue. I forever regret saying this as I lost the first chance I had at summering in Cannes, luckily this was not the last opportunity. So, even though I now know that Prom Queens end up at community college having had 3 botched abortions and are 15 pounds overweight, I and still have no idea what to do with my tongue when kissing, it was a memorable halloween. I hope to have another memorable prescription filled one this year too. Ciao ciao 

babysitting for my gynocologist

My gyno is really hot and rich and lives on park avenue. This makes me extremely hydrated in the vagina. Hence it is extremely uncomfortable as he is the gyno and spends a lot of time in the vagina, thus is most likely aware of my desires. I usually cry a lot at the gyno, not because its painful but because when he asks me about my sex life and it has been a particularly either non existent or not interesting situation, I become extremely upset. So like most of my team, my gyno is also my therapist. He knows that I am on a life long quest of becoming society's top socialite and then I have an incapability of flushing the toilet. He also knows that no matter how many times he tells me that its dangerous to preform activities in the hot tub, this will not stop be from attempting to do so.  However, this physician is smart except for the fact that he refuses to sleep with me. He knows I am smart, sophisticated and intelligent and tells me often, but he doesn't include that Im pretty which obviously makes me think I need a third visit to the surgeon to make breasts perkier. After one visit he told me his sitter had come down with the syph and was it possible that I could babysit his two children. And then I had a great idea. What if all men who have seen my vagina offer me jobs that pay well where I do not have to do very much?  This led me on a new mission that every man who sees the cartier crystal bedazzled vagina I will convince them to hire me for something completely unrelated to sex. Wish me luck.

Veuve Cliquot Anonomous

Its a bit obvious that I drink a lot of veuve cliquot, but I wondered, is it possible if I have an addiction? Do I have it when I wake up? Yes. Do I have it at work? Yes Do I have it at pilates? Do I have it before I go to sleep while listening to Traviata and practicing my viola? Yes Do I have it while I research porn? Yes. Now, this does not sound like an addiction but instead, like a healthy acquired taste for the finer things. What if I were rude, unkind, didn't appreciate maids didn't give to charity and didn't make reservations? Wouldn't that be significantly worse? I think so, but Im not one to listen to anyone, even my sub conscious, which lets face it could very well be a personality stuck in me from the early 90's. So I attended al alcoholic 's anon meeting to see what it was all about. I dressed the part and wore one of mother's dresses from the late Alexander Mcqueen and mussed up my hair to give the appearance of being a true hot mess and that I was coming to the meeting after a long night of drinking veuve. I found the meeting rather boring. I had to listen to a lot of stories of lay individuals waking up in trash cans. I enjoyed the singing part. We got to sing Hallelujah in the middle of the meeting which was great because I have a really good voice. I then asked the leader if I could sing a song alone after and he said no.
Anyway when It was my turn to speak I told them  tories about times I have woken up to princes in 5 star hotels in countries from all the times of drinking champagne. It was a really beautiful experience to express myself to strangers, but I realized something important. I didn't have an addiction or a problem. I was just really looking for an opportunity to dress like a hot mess and talk about how much I love champagne amongst new people. good times.

Las Vegas is Retarded

Anyone who asks you to go to Vegas, you should immediately run the other direction. People say this is like Disney Land for adults. Disney Land however is based on family values, American Capitalism, and glitter. Im not jumping on my next jet to Disney Land until I become a step mother as while it is based on family values, it is also based on fast food, no tuna tartare, and vomit due to sober dizziness. Not Rich. Vegas however, while lots of rich people go and spend a lot of money. The sole purpose of Vegas is to get drunk and hook up with strangers- In America. The fact that Vegas is in the free world makes it reek of utter wannabe euro travel. The hot low tier Merryl Lynch Bankers may invite me to their table and text me to tell me they enjoyed the fact I wasnt wearing underwear (little do they know I never do because Im lazy) are not going to take me to dinner with their boss or introduce me to their Mother's cartier jewl collection. I am of course supportive of having a good time and enjoying sexual pleasure. But I am also for class, culture, sophistication, tuna tartare, and memories that one can share when at dinner with the President. I cannot attend the new York for Children Cocktail party and discuss my holiday that consisted of gambling my trust fund and letting a grimy 45 year old has been grind up on me on the dance floor. However, I can certainly go to Ibiza, ST. Tropez, Sardinia and any other Donnatella Eurotrash Locale and do those things, but because its Europe it has a more cultural insinuation. I can also add what a great experience was to practice my western european language.

Airport Security Mayhem

Tales of my domestic jetsetting continue as I head to the concrete jungle for a short time to take care of errands. I left a note for the three maids to wake me up one at 2 pm so I could fall back to sleep for an hour and then at 3 pm to ensure I was up. I lots to do. pick up my prescriptions, attend the theatre, and attempt to get my ban from the Bronx zoo switched as last time I was there I tried to steal one of the seals. The Bronx Zoo is not where you would think is a place for social climbing, but actually there are many Dads with children looking to meet sexy intellectual women. They just dont know it.
I had recently befriended a drug dealer at University. Now, he is really sexy but is not jewish and does not have a trust fund so there is no way I would update my facebook status to in a relationship. However, the fact that he is a drug dealer is almost not worth it as he only deals trailer park drugs to have extra money to buy beer. His words, not mine, but we are friends because its nice to be well rounded and matriculate with common folk who do not have or plan on owning yachts. He also teaches me about music since my music knowledge doesnt go beyond Mozart and R.Kelly. However, he decided to crush up some crystal meth using one of my hundreds in my room, which I of course photographed as it looked artsy. Then after he left I put the hundreds in my coach clutch not thinking about it. Then when going thru security it crossed my mind that the crushed crystal meth may have left some residue on the bill rendering me incapable of crossing the state border and having to be detained in a third world country for having trailer park residue on my hundreds. Right before going through security I took out my Michael Kors perfume sprayed it heavily on the bill and rolled it up and inserted into me. Some people looked at me funny, but I then quietly, because Im respectful, told them I was adjusting my tampon. Then I also made a promise to God that if he allowed my  meth residue franklin thru security I would do lots of charity this weekend. So now, after my errand of seducing rich dad at the Zoo, I have to go to my teen pregnancy mothers reading group where we are reading Jane Eyre. Im excited to feel intelligent.

Im exceptionally good at..

counting money, approving my credit card bill, wearing high heeled shoes, elementary arabic grammar, going to therapy, sharing my meds, watching Bill O' Reilly, sounding smart, fingering, dry humping, babysitting when the children are sleeping, making reservations, pouring champagne, acting slutty, talking about drugs, asking people about their sexuality, making clever facebook albums, naming all the capitals of the US, bleeding, picking out sparkly colors for pedicures.

things I use everyday

diet coke, amex, anti depressants, razors, j lo glow perfume, twitter, arabic, vibrator, quotes from the Valley of the dolls, lighters, spells, wine cork openers, crayons, bidet, press pass, scissors, matzah, fondue, prada belt

What do you want for birthday?

I love this question because my birthday is only 7 weeks away so I am already getting floods (ironic since my family survived the titanic) of correspondence asking me what I would like. What is so amusing is that everyday is my birthday because I do what I want, say what I want, and act how I want every single day at every single moment and so should you. Not to mention I also wear a diamond crusted tiara and marvel at my acting brilliance in my semi erotic short films based out of Berlin in my lingerie in the evening before I go to bed. Normally, I tell people to make a donation to a fake charity and then collect the checks so that I seem like a really great worldly person and still get paid. Its a system that has been in the family for generations and was passed down by my dear great great great aunt who was on the titanic and survived insha allah. This year, I am planning to jump out of my own cake. I seen people do this on television and it always fascinated me how scary people coming out of cakes is. I like people and I like cake so naturally the combination of these things, like communism, sounds like a really great idea. So, my plan is, I will order a massive sized cake and climb into it, invite 5 trillion of my dearest friends and enemies and father, and wheel a cake into La Grenouille and jump out of it. Hope to see you there.

Laundry room is not just for sex

Since I do not even know what a vacuum looks like, do not know how to turn on my computer, do not know how to make microwave popcorn and have to order it on the internet, do not understand how to open a brief case, have never used a broom, and nearly tore off my finger when using a dustbuster it amusing to think that I would ever be capable to do my own laundry.

However this week I was even too lazy to bring it down to the laundry man to have it done which left me with no clean clothes. I was thinking about going to buy new ones but all the shops were closed and was not really in the mood to wear blood stained underwear again. THe blood i believe is blood from a mix of period, losing my virginity for the 3rd time, and framing my professor for raping me to get a higher grade. This method however, only works twice. I had just finished wrapping up my meeting with my agent from a wealthy town in Connecticut, so obviously I trust her because she jogs and enjoys the theatre. She is certain that I will make it big with my classy rapper career as Nicotine Stain. She clearly thought I was joking when I asked her to borrow laundry detergent as glitter girls like us only use the laundry room for sex. So I ventured down to the laundry room with my Balanciaga laundry bag and laundry detergent that I think I will doubly use as body wash since it smells so good. THe lady who sold me the detergent at my nearby shop corner knows me well and looked me in the eye, and said WHite girl, are you sure you know how to do this stuff? She is one of my dearest friends and last year I drew her a painting of New York City for Christmas since I am extremely charitable like that. 

i put my laundry in the dryer with the detergent about 2 hours ago. Ill let you know how it goes. 

HEY its OK pART 2

Its ok to..

1. Start dating your rapist if he invests in the stock market
2. tape your parents having sex and sell it for profit (only if faces are blurred out, dont want to be rude)

3. refer to your friends by their races/religion/sexual orientation, I.E my black friend Joe loves his Hindi Girlfriend Suzanna who have a homosexual dog walker

4. Sue people because you are bored

5. Sell used tampons to the strange man on Craigslist

6. know how many calories there are in alcohol but not the United State's policy on import trading

7. not use condoms

8. not get out of bed unless maid needs to make it, then get right back in

9. talk to your cat

10. refuse to speak english

Make New Friends

Over the summer a dear friend of mine asked me to attend her friend's birthday dinner with her. I love birthday dinners because I enjoy the excessive champagne and vomiting birthday cake. The restaurant was at a new Manhattan hotspot where the rumor was there were a lot of skinny socialites and rich men. I was hoping a few of the socialites were Russian so that I could practice my accent and some of the new words I had learned in my Rosetta Stone. This restaurant was completely my scene and I was in a desperate fix for a good social climb. I packed my coach clutch with an index cards full of bullet point topics to discuss lest there is a lull in discussion, 3 vicodins, 4 klonopins, 16 packs of skinny cigarettes, an ounce of marijuana in case I meet a guy who wants to be quote smoked up,  16 adderall, and some marshmallows.
 I am A nazi for good manners and I completely had forgotten to get my dear friend's friend a birthday gift. I showed up on time, wrote her parents a thank you note, and kissed her on both cheeks and told her she looked skinnier than last time even though this was the first time I met her. Forgetting a birthday gift was a serious faux pas as her father gives an obscene amount of money to the republicans in Los Angeles and she wears designer clothes. I was in such a rush to make sure that I looked like I had not been sleeping all day and my only accomplishment was that I beat my time at solitaire and didnt cry that day, that I completely forgot to get a birthday gift. Very unsocialite of me especially since she was part of the upper crust of society. Getting her a good birthday gift would be the ample opportunity to show her what a good family I come from and the potential that we have in forging a new found friendship based on the appreciation of sleeping with Wall Street Bankers and veuve cliquot. I said to her during appetizers, Darling..Are you fond of drugs? Sure she said I like drugs. I told her I had completely forgotten a gift for her but had a few adderall on me. O how nice of you she said as I passed her a few. Its good to make new friends.

Possibly meeting a boyfriend/poten Late night at the gym

3 am: I do not sleep as I fear my own sub conscious. 3 am is an ample time to exercise. Whilst on the elliptical another gentleman of latino descent came into the gym facility. Fear courses through my veins. He says to me, I have seen you in my political economy class. I respond yes I think I do have that class with you in a highly emphasized latino accent so he thinks that I am one of his as I add some Jennifer Lopez snaps. He looks at me as if I am retarded. If you have any questions you can always ask me, and why are you talking like that if you are white? I cough and pretend I didnt hear him. He is hot and working out at 3 am. This could be a potential relationship. I wonder if is father has a brazilian Mansion or if he is on scholarship. He goes on to the bicycle and turns on Jennifer's Body. That film with Megan Fox who kills people. I am terrified of scary movies but I do not say anything as I do not want to appear rude. I may have to end my workout shortly. But I am conflicted because he could potentially be a new rich lover. I like latino's I like their accent, I like their body I like the potential in their drug dealing field of work. I am too scared to focus as the horror flick is on the TV screen. I leave and he does not ask me for my number. I write it on my gum wrapper and give it to him. He takes it and asks what this is. I say its my number. O I have a girlfriend he says. Do you have a Brazilian Mansion? I ask. No He says. Thats ok it probably wouldnt have worked out anyway.

Vulgar thoughts : I am a witch

I have known that I was a witch for a very long time and have been preforming spells since I could read. I used to parade around temple telling the Rabbi's that I was an atheist because how could a God possibly create trans fats and cancer from cigarettes. No No nO. However, during my atheistic journey I came across a Spell Book in the bookstore, much like a scene from a cheap Disney movie and began my quest of becoming a witch. I realized I was no longer an Atheist as I worshipped an entity/spirt/ soul that could make possible my future with yachts, bonds, and crystal tiara's. Not to mention that it is not attractive nor becoming to mention to a particular suitor of one's disbelief in God, especially to Jews. So when asked, I believe it was the MarieClaire magazine that informed me that the right answer to this question was, I believe there is something bigger than all of us.
So, On the very rare occasion that I am not in the mood to go to an Asian Fusion/Sushi/Dim Sum restaurant with my contemporaries and discuss the health care problems in America that do not affect us, the new line at american apparel and the horrendousn-ess of the service at the particular dining facility, I sit by myself at home and contemplate why Jon and Kate plus 8 are on television and I am not and what I can do about this. First I remind myself of how smart I am and then go on to list all of the countries of Asia and all of the U.S capitals and all of the Shakespeare plays. I often look up quotations from Hamlet or Macbeth and use them in my daily vernacular to further make clear my raging intelligence and sophistication.  I have tried to get on television many a time, and not counting my semi erotic yet trashy film/modeling career I have auditioned for various reality shows. and have yet to get cast. So, the witch in me appears and I light candles around my room and cast spells to pray to the Wiccan gods to get me on television. I even have appropriate makeup and attire for my witch like behavior and preform the spells that usually ask for vanilla, paprika, and female cum, and I throw in some glitter and sequins just for good measure. Wish me luck

My dad's clients are my best friends

Theatre is sexy. We have fox's emmy award winning television production Glee to thank for making showtunes sexy again. Going to the theatre sends the message that one is an intellectual sophisticated rich individual who enjoys the arts and wants to get laid.  There is nothing I enjoy more than going to the theatre. Theatre is real raw emotion that is captured on the stage. My first Broadway show was Hello Dolly, which I enjoyed so much and it was probably Satan's way of forshadowing my extensive matchmaking career.  I love pretty much everything except for cats and phantom of the opera which are horrific examples of why one should never be poor or wear masks.
Unfortunately, not many philosophers of my generation feel the same rush as seeing a rendition of "steam heat-wash that man right out my hair- boy from oz -harry connick hugh jackman hip thrust as  I do, which subjects me to attend these productions with father and his clients. On the rare occasion my prince of a brother attends these productions, and our conversations in the car going down to timesquare probably lead driver to have a blog of his own.
My favorite couple that I like to go with are a hip couple with no children and 2 dogs each 5 feet tall. They do not have children as they spend enough time with me, but nevertheless think I am fabulous and entertaining. DUH. They  are old enough to be my parents but young enough to still think my drug references and sexcapades are amusing, and in fact are often encouraged. They are soho house members, nantucket house owners, confused by mother and entertained by father, and are overall not retarded. One thing that bothers me is they do not get me Christmas presents. I also frequently hit on Mr. Client and he thinks I am joking. Rude
Anyway, once Mrs. Client asked me to help her get back 5,000 from an exgirlfriend of an employee of fathers. I didn't know how to go about doing this but was so happy to be involved in something that had absolutely nothing to do with me but was diabolical and sneaky and hopefully drugs would be involved. Clearly, this ex girlfriend biatch was smart and when I tried to contact her she did not respond which led me to tell Mrs. Client that I could not reach her. Mrs. Client was very upset which made me very upset. This led father to send her an email that told her to stop harassing me, which I specifically told father not to do. This creates an extremely uncomfortable situation not only because we cannot attend the theatre together anymore, but I no longer have a recommendation at the SOHO house.

Taxi Drivers are the new shrinks

When I was a young entrepreneur and wanted to seduce old men I got into the practice of babysitting. This was a great opportunity for me to peruse through client's closets to test out their prescription drugs, find their marijuana, their erotic s and m collection, their flavored condoms, and the mummy's collection of shoes. However, once I was going to a client's home who did not provide dinner for me so I had my nanny cook me dinner. I have the slight inclination paranoia that this particular nanny had the secret desire to poison me. I got into the taxi and looked at my dinner which was salmon wild rice and broccoli all prepared from dean and deluca. I immediately began to cry in the taxi, it was the wrong wild rice and I was very very sad. The taxi driver, a kind Arab man handed me a used tissue and I thanked him in Arabic through sniffles. He asked me what was wrong and I didnt want to tell him, so I instead told him I was crying because life was stressful. He told me not to be sad, after all, his wife did not have legs.

Male Friends

I am not quite clear what the point of having male friends are if I am not supposed to sleep with them, expect them to buy me dinner and recreational drugs, and help pay my rent. I suppose the reason why I do not have male friends is because I usually try to seduce them with my playlist (see blog in september), irregardless of if they have a girlfriend. Then usually the action plays out of them insinuating that I do not respect their friendship. I do respect their friendship I just assumed that sex was involved in a relationship between man and woman. It is not appropriate to have male friends that do not treat you like a woman. It is demoralizing, offensive, and frankly, a waste of my time. The bottom line is if you are not going to finger me or pay my rent than I am not certain of the necessity of the relationship.

Thesis

I am currently researching the sex lives of the Nazi Regime compared to the members of the Taliban and whether or not active sex lives promoted or distracted these evil groups from achieving their goals. My research includes primary sources, taliban porn, and my dear friend who is a descendent of the late Ava Gardner. Thus far I have discovered that Nazi's were distracted by sex and hookers, which accounts for one of the reasons that D-day was so successful. The terrorists on the other hand do not use sex as much for pleasure but rather for pro creation so they can successfully manage their time accordingly to what is most necessary.

Glitter Therapy inventions

I am lazy, self indulgent, racist, feel threatened by people who have more money, and hire people to do most things that can be done for me. However, I have begun to work through these issues, not in therapy, as I use that time to practice my one liners and pick up lines, but in the confines of my own room,

 I am creating a

 vibrator that works as a hair straightener

xanax that comes in skittles flavors

a bag that can fit a lamp in it mary poppins style. 

Fictional Characters I would enjoy "throwing down with"

My apologies of my 4 day absence, I put myself into a self induced coma as I was feeling depressed over the fact that one of the Rockefeller's is gay. This leaves only 15 single Rockefeller's left. I felt a serious panic attack coming along but I couldnt decide whether it was the sexuality of the Rockefeller or the fact that I hadnt had a cigarette with a mashed up klonopin inside of it in 2 hours. I realized it was probably a combination, thus I induced myself into a mild coma, also for the purpose of avoiding responsibilities and responding to texts.


I realized this morning, over oatmeal and champagne and valtrex, that I would like  to start saying throw down when I discuss partying. And since all my contemporary philosophers are boring me I would like to have a party of fictional characters and this is who I would invite.
Amelia Bedelia
Doug Funnie
Ms. Frizzle
The owl from winnie the pooh
Dora the explorer's parents
Cru ella Devil

Autobiographical Soundtrack

In the film that Chronicles the trials and tribulations of not knowing how much trust fund is, what the difference between carat and karats are and how to properly shave legs without cutting/bruising scaring/ This is what the soundtrack to the film will be:

Ignition by R. Kelly  * my birth

What's your Fantasy by Ludacris * Kindergarten

Hey Mah by Cameroon * Graduating University

Fallin By Alicia Keys * First Divorce

Hallelujah by Jeff Buckley * Assets Received

Killing me Softly * Adoption of Romanian princesses

 Circle of Life from the Lion King  *Affair with Donald Trump Jr the 5th

O Happy Day * Glitter Therapy Pharmacy Opens

Does Getting Married mean you cant jump up and down on the bed?

I obviously want to get married. Married women get better jobs, have more money, and have easier access to becoming top socialites. I am not worried about having relations with the same person forever because I do not plan on doing that. I will still sleep with my dear friends and the help when I am bored. I obviously do not want to get married at least until a republican is in office, but I am a bit apprehensive about marriage. Not because you have to share your life with someone and hang out with them everyday, because as long as I have my diamond tiara and my pied a terre on 5th and my beach house in Malibu and my summer home in Cannes and my rhinestone encrusted transportation device that dually functions as a yacht and jet I will be fine, I think. I am apprehensive because I do not want to lose my delicious childlike magical innocence that compels be to jump up and down on the bed at any moment's notice. Does being married equal being an adult? I certainly hope not, I hope I will still be lying stealing cheating and doing prescription drugs and backstabbing people I didn't like much anyway to get ahead. I hope that marriage provides me with an equal partner who also values money and manners over religion and routine. I still want to have so much fun and jump and down and smile and laugh forever and ever. I see so many boring couples that act like adults and do not have any fun. Nightmarish. I hope that as long as I live I will always have the compulsion to get into clubs, drink lots of champagne, eat lots of dark chocolate, star in highly tasteful semi erotic pictures, and enjoy discussing the volatile stock market. 

High School wasnt so High, else would have liked it more

I recently received a letter in the mail about my 5 year reunion approaching. My goodness, I said to my friend while drinking a bottle of wine. We always drink before collecting our mail. Has it really been 5 years since I felt like wanting to kill myself with a hanger and mace? Most of my high school experience was a blur, mostly because of the hypnosis I underwent to avoid any memory of the experience.
It certainly has been five years she said. And look at how far you come, you are now a self obsessed highly neurotic semi alcoholic under worked over prescribed young woman on the brink of achieving top mafia high class hooker status.
My high school experience was a little to0 Carrie, the horror flick, not the chick from sex and city and not enough Cruel Intentions, the film not the actual intent. But as most wannabe successful socialites before me, high school was a rather tumultuous experience which lead them to peak at the proper age of 35 and not 16. I will not go into the long drawn out cliches of me as the outsider with the voo dolls in the backroom, or the failed attempts at seducing my teachers or even the several letters sent home by the principal to mother and father asking for a written letter from a psychiatrist claiming that I was not clinically insane.
So will I be attending my reunion? Absolutely, with my entourage of paparazzi, my standard poodles, and my party planner. I will also dress in a snakeskin pantsuit and refuse to take my sunglasses off and will bring copies of the highly tasteful nude framed autographed photographs to give to my classmates.

Dearest Mother, I am sorry I stalk your life

Mother, besides standard poodles is my best friend, idol confidante, and ultimate goal for all young women who strive to live the fabulous life. She is beautiful, french, skinny, cocktail party genius.  Mother is the highest rated luxury expert internationally. Magnifique. I hope to follow in her footsteps as the creme de la creme top socialite without attending fashion shows and the large homosexual following. I do not not like fashion week because most models are liberal loving self obsessed 14 year olds who look forward to cheese at the end of the shows. I could never hang out with these freaks as I am lactose intolerant and do not enjoy children's company.
 During Fashion week she is virtually unreachable as mother is the ultimate high class socialite creme de la creme of Paris. However, due to my extremely high anxiety levels I require that I speak to mother and father and maids every night before bed to report to her what I wore, who I hate, how my plans of becoming a top socialite are becoming and how I feel about the progress of the war in Iraq. Sadly, during fashion week this cherished moments of worship of the glitter therapy girl are rendered near impossible which causes me to triple my doses during fashion week. Pharmacist says that I keep him up to date with the fashion week as he always knows when it occurs based on my dosage.
However, I am extremely concerned about getting reservations in Manhattan's hottest restaurants next week, I also wanted her to confirm my colonics appointments, my vaginal tightening surgery, and my removal of cheap highlights that I got when I didn't medicate myself properly. so I sent her a text message to confirm my appointments and she did not respond. GASP. Anxiety levels climb. WHERE IS MOTHER?? Not even dear mother does not respond to my messages. Priorities should be as follows, CHANEL DIOR GLITTER.  I immediately log onto twitter where I find her at at a chic restaurant. I peruse the website end enjoy the music which calms me, especially when I see three kinds of caviar on the menu and champagne by the bottle and chocolate mousse for desert.  I call the restaurant speaking perfect french, yet it takes 3 maitre d's to understand my request as they all claimed they spoke english, yet I refused to speak in my mother tongue. They ask me to describe her, even though I already told them who I was looking for.
Finally they found my dear mummy, who informed me that she had already made my reservations. She then asked me if I was ok. MOTHER, You know my anxiety levels are unmanageable when you do not return my texts. Mother apologizes, All is restored.
Sorry I stalk your life,
I know you are working hard at maintaining your top social life status for the rest of our generations to follow and I Deeply respect.
I love you with all my heart and soul.

Smoking

I am not a serious lover of marijuana. Marijuana is not a very productive republican drug. One doesnt hear of too many brokers or doctors smoking a blunt before a meeting or a heart surgery. I understand that its natural, which also frightens me. My diet consists of a chemical combination of diet coke splenda tasti delight caviar swedish fish luna bars smart start and chemically flavored quinoa. I fear that putting anything natural into my body like water or marijuana would cause my body to have a negative reaction. It makes me want to sleep and eat, too things I find my time can be better spent sharpening my knives or getting pedicures or watching fox news. My contemporary philosophers tell me they smoke to quote chill and quote relax. I quote chill and relax with 3 veuve's, knowing that republicans have control of the house, and that I get a third of everything ( have one brother and one sister and 2 standard poodles). I also am already so paranoid that I am in trouble since I frequently lie steal cheat and do prescription drugs that I do not see the benefit of subjecting myself to further paranoia. When I do smoke the green grass, it is only amongst rich people who may potentially sleep with me and or buy me dinner. But I try to save my money for more productive things like magazines and the late fees for my soft core porn netflix.

Generic Versus Brand name

There is a really attractive gentleman in my Resurrect Reagan 2012 group meetings. I was sitting next to him and he smelled like a combination of xanax and Michael Kors for men, which immediately turned me on. I was so tempted to facebook message him and ask him if he too could feel the heat between us, but I was advised by my sex therapist that this was not a good way to start a relationship, especially since he does not know my name. His facebook profile page is him smoking a cigar on a yacht with what looks like a vodka tonic but could very well be water. He is definitely jewish because I used the men's bathroom after the meeting and he was at the urinal but did not see me. I am now a frequent attendee of the men's room as I like to observe the surroundings and I enjoy the rush of attempting to go unnoticed.  

All Rich people think they are artists

I love to paint. In the 2nd Grade I drew a picture of a rainbow castle replete with swirls of colors and dramatic shapes It was constructed with crais pas and it was hung up on the 7th floor next to the principals office. and thats when I realized I was destined for fame and tripping. I would frequently skip class to go and marvel at my work and sometimes bring others to admire with me. After that moment I knew I was an artist and began adding likes art galleries and mark rothko to my list of interests next to classical music, theatre, opera, and the ballet. I frequently mention Mark Rothko into my daily conversation to send the message that I am well educated as well as have a deep understanding of the emotions of solid colors.  Nothing says Im classy like recognizing a Rothko from a not a Rothko.

Turns out I am not the only one, a young gentlemen who called himself a filmmaker, showed me his film which he referred to as new neo classism italian film, a term which I am certain he made up. The film consisted of a red ball rolling down the road with 2 people kissing in the end. Brilliant? Retarded? Im not really sure because it was dark and spent most of the time reading his diary. I also would not mind marrying him as his mother has a phenom jewl connection and he knows The Rolling stones. naturally I told him the film made me think differently about balls and he was destined for a career in the arts. 

How Can I?

While I was having lunch with women this afternoon I suddenly grew very bored as they were not interested in discussing their sex life or their trust funds. They instead were curious about what I was doing next year and what I was wearing to the bro's before ho's theme party.  I informed them that I was working on becoming impregnated with Lil Wayne's child so that I can freely use black phrases. I also do not attend party's where there is not a bouncer or a guest list.   I should have just ordered in sushi and watched infomercials and ordered more self help books off of amazon.  But instead I made a list goals that need to be accomplished in the near future. 

So here it was I came up with.. How can I?

join the mafia for the sole purpose of eating at Mafia restaurants and owning a gun? 

get some of father's employee's to grind with me at Christmas party 2010?

Get into the Boom Boom Room?

Wear a push up bra and contain myself not to tweet about it?

Possibly understand why I cant fly direct to Havana, Cuba?

avoid queefing during pilates?

hit on with a man without it looking like an audition tape for to catch a predator?

Its true

I quote from Jesus and pretend its my own
I would rather have strep than wear condoms
I speak to my maids more than mother
I have had 16 imaginary boyfriends 10 of whom did not speak english
I have sent flirty text messages to my lawyer
My dream is to own my own pharmacy
Bristol Palin is one my dearest friends but I will never visit her in Wasilla
I have made numerous dinner reservations under "Winona Ryder"
I tried to boil water once

trouble with the law

I normally do not listen to anyone as most of their advice is for the sole purpose of distracting me from my objective to becoming a high class sophisticated socialite with high class hooker tendencies. HOWEVER, one of my dear jewish family friend's from my sadomasochistic high school suggested I write about this experience. While she is skinnier, younger, has better grades and more rich men than me, I still grant her this story as she is part of my inner circle. The circle where I would go to Mexico and bail her out and bring champagne. This story has actually become a favorite among several, most of whom I hate.
The story began as I was leaving Nantucket from a weekend replete with nantucket red, johhny walker black, and crystal meth white. This was many years ago when it was not chic to talk about unemployment or pseudo african americans in government. My father had rudely not booked me on a private plane where it is not necessary to carry id or go through security, and dressing like a terrorist whilst singing bombs over bagdad by outkast is not only not frowned upon but encouraged. I had to fly commercial. I believe his reasoning was that he wanted to use the money to purchase more tennis balls and fly his tennis coach to Europe. Priorities.
Ch2:
Security: I realized that I did not have any form of identification except for my fake id that says I am from sunnyloving florida zipcode 12345. I handed the fake to the check in man but showed him some cleavage so it would distract him. Instead he looked at me as if I was having a seizure and asked me if I needed some water since I was so red in the face from squeezing boobs together.
Ch3:
Actual Security: The woman looked at my false identification and black lighted it. She stared me down and asked if it was real. I told her the truth and in front of all waspy trust fund receiving blonde haired vineyard vine tans that  it infact was fake and the only identification I had were the labels of my prescriptions which I proceeded to pull out of my blood stained beach bag in a frenzy.
Ch4:
Detained in Nantucket
As I was crying hysterically throwing histrionics in such as My father will beat me if you call him, the nantucket police showed up. They asked me to write down all of my correct information and kept saying "if you are who you say you are" as if to insult my chronic identity crisis. They even asked me for the mayor in my hometown and since I am striving to be a sexy intellectual political scientist genius socialite I knew. Then they googled my family and pictures of fashion shows came up. They threw away my fake I.D and let me go with just a warning
Ch 5:
At the gate. I settled into a post panic anxiety attack and called my three therapists and my sister in Europe who screamed at me and told me she wasn't going to get home as we were now red flagged  name. I went up to use the ladies room and when I came back someone had horrifically stolen my in touch magazine with the intricate description of tara reid's sex life. Fumes ensure as I give her a nantucket nasty look and demand for my magazine back. I am obviously saving it for maids when Im done.
Ch6:
Goals: charge phone. call father and tell him i'm not fit for commercial as I don't find it necessary to carry around identification. I cannot charge phone as I do not have charger. Ask a hot wasp who goes to an ivy league because he plays a sport if I can borrow his iphone charger. "you are just a mess today he says" What a mean person. Trying to act sophisticated when we are the same age and I would have gone down on him on the plane since my moods were more out of sorts than normal and I was not able to distinguish erotic plane behavior from regular plane behavior.

Epilogue:
Many moons ago I received appropriate Identification card. While my family is still red flagged at the airport, I learned that as long as I have my prescriptions, I will always have my identification. I learned that knowing the mayor's name regardless of the spelling is disuseful in every other situation except this. And it is extremely helpful to have family members that have photographers so they are easily search able via satellite or internet.

ITs not rude to like being rich

I used to have masochistic fantasies about being beaten by a rich man and then he would buy me diamonds and say he was sorry. The transition from masochism to hedonism was a difficult decision but I realized that women with bruises and bloody noses do not get into clubs. Its easy to play the victim and say look at me I have everything but I am miserable but much harder to say I have everything and thats hot. Our society finds there is something wrong, offensive, and crass about loving the bedazzled life. Every Day I see my dream as LMFAO once said to me. And it is true,  My fellow rich hot biatches, celebrate the fact you have everything and own it. All of your problems can be easily solved if your father has roman numerals next to his last name. broken shoes? shoe maker. Mean friend? She is jealous, get rid of her and send her flowers and a note that said you had good times being her friend. No boyfriend? Father's office. Overbearing mother? send her to Tahiti. Neglectful Mother? Steal her gin and tonics.

Water skiing in the Nude

Water skiing is a sport I perfected when a rich good looking indian man taught me how to in the Caribbean during the Clinton administration. I go to the Caribbean every holiday without fail. Same hotel. Same staff same room same guests same dealer, since I was 8 actually. It was very precious but then he passed away as he was brutally murdered by his masseuse wife and now his nephew has taken over the business. The old saying is true, the first generation always does it right.

 I absolutely loved to water ski and still do but I wanted to turn the sport into a less family fun sport into a more erotic sensual midnight seduction. My father recruits most of his employees from the Caribbean and since they work for my father it means they have a house in Cannes and smoke cigars. Genius. So on my attempt to seduce one of my father's potential employee's I decided to waterski in the nude past his room to see if he would notice me. He did not and I got very nasty mosquito bites. 

Center for poor girls who want to learn to like Champagne

One day during the summer solstice it was a typical routine of morning colonics and patron shots and then my kegel exercises which I learned how to do without hurting my new 24 carat piercing! I had a zoolander moment I looked around the pied-a-tierre with the maids, the yoga instructor, the masseuse, and TOMAY the croatian computer man, who I think of as a dear brother whom I wouldnt mind if he fingered me. I realized I was truly blessed. I have only had 6 shrinks, been on 5 types of anti depressants, had one minor stint in rehab, 2 gucci bags, (one of which I stole from the store, impressive I know, and the other from my paternal great aunt so its ugly, but still) and only 3 stds that are gone I believe. Sure I certainly have my difficult days, I do not always get into the right tables at restaurants, I do not have a glitter encrusted private jet, as we share ours with a pleasant waspy couple with sick plastic surgery, and I do not have a sex doll modeled after me. Life can be difficult, but with the right medications I realized it really is beautiful.
So during my perfected kegels I had a derek Zoolander moment. For those of you who pathetically do not know who Derek Zoolander is, he is the actor/model who created the center for kids who cant read good and want to do other stuff do. I thought, instead of social climbing the corporate ladder and drinking champagne why don't I micromanage my time and devote sometime to helping people. Micromanaging is an anal retentive trait that I am trying to develop but naturally my anxiety only permits me to accomplish reading magazines and singing in the shower. I have become an alto instead of a soprano due to my heavy smoking, which is depressing as alto's are borderline lesbionic.

 Of course I only do charity work so that I can tell my soon to be friends who are at the creme de la creme top of the social circle how much I love helping black kids read. I will not help the hungry because I will become extremely jealous of the skinny people. I realized that charity work does not sound sexy and community service sounds even worse so I decided to call it, time spent giving back to those less fortunate while simultaneously helping myself. I remember once I was doing time in Harlem and had some dark chocolate and veuve cliquot in my purse. I gave some to the little girl I was reading to who immediately spit it out as she only liked hostess. I realized that my quest was to make little girls in harlem appreciate Veuve Cliquot and strive to be creme de la creme socialites like myself. So Derek Has inspired me to create a center for poor kids who want to be socialites.

Things I will never do (again)

eat cantaloupe green apples or baby carrots, visit New Jersey, get a nose job and or chin rhinoplasty, pierce any other part of my body beside my ears and my vagina, date someone poor, doesn't like alcohol, and doesn't play tennis, change diapers, watch michael moore films (liberal and obese, anything else?), tell the truth to the shrinks because the lies are still true, just better versions, hook up with a janitor, wear underwear, talk about going to the bathroom on television, sleep with a coworker (unless they are married), tweet about mother because twitter is strictly business.

Mile High Club fantasy

Hook up in the bathroom with the pilot. How I go about this. Its a long flight to Abu Dhabi where I am looking at a 3rd home. I whisper to the stewardess that I like her makeup (I dont) and if she knows how to fly. She says she does not but her Muslim friend who is also a stewardess does. I cringe at the irony that a Muslim is flying me literally to the brink of my satisfaction. I summon the muslim girl to my first first row first aisle front door seat and bribe her with Us weekly and people magazine and playboy and jugs and the economist and 40 packets of orbit gum. I tell her it has been my life long dream to commit the act of impregnating oneself with a pilot on a plane and would she mind flying whilst I get off. I also tell her this in Arabic. I do not believe it translates well as she begins to cry. I comfort her and this time speak in my french mother tongue and she understands and complies. I go into the cock pit, to find the pilot but it is the wrong cock pit. I have ended up in the crotch of another gentlemen saying am I in the cockpit? The arab man is extremely offended as the stewardi grab me and lead me in the right direction.
The muslim stewardess takes the plane. I take my pilot in the bathroom. Satisfaction ensues (for him, duh) I go back to my seat. Muslim stewardess comes out of the cockpit and begins to speak arabic to me. Im not sure what she says but I assume it is a loose translation of It was a pleasure flying for you. I hope you had fun. Enjoy your journey in Abu Dhabi. You american women are sex obsessed. (she was referencing the magazines, not me of course)

I like Psychics because of the crystal ball

In my determination to reach my goal of becoming the number one hit on NewYworkSocialDiaryGawkerPerez, I have consulted many a psychic to help me determine whether I am on the right path towards of being fabulous pop sensation rapper who wears christian louboutins and prescribed drugs. I actually know several pyschics and I went on several dates with one that I met online. The problem was he kept telling me that he saw a lot of struggle career wise and significant problems with alcohol, which is uncomfortable at a bar after a third glass of wine. I told him that I didnt want to know what was in the present or the past, but whether or not I was going to be able to summer in Cannes and wear a diamond tiara everyday. I did not hear from again but we did make out and I can tell from his kissing technique that he enjoys it in the buttocks, but lets be real, so do I. 

 At first I thought that psychics was just a euphemism for I didnt go to college but I can tell you what you want to hear, a bit like a hooker, or at least for me because I always finger my psychics I love psychics because we have so much in common. We both know everything, or if we dont we make it up and say it convincingly. We both enjoy asking strangers intimate questions about their personal lives. And naturally we both love sparkles and drugs. Im not really sure if psychics like drugs but I got the number for a half price vicodin dealer from a psychic. I knew never to go back to that psychic because the suggestion to buy anything at half price is vulgar. Psychics are bullshit, but I absolutely love it.

 I realized if you already tell them everything in the beginning and cry when they mention your father, than they repeat back to you what you said, and you are under the illusion that they are psychic. I have met some pretty retarded psychics in my day which is saying a lot because I am extremely manipulated especially when told that I am effing fabulous. One psychic told me that I was going to die when I was 35 from a freak car accident. I was 12 and it was at a halloween party in New Jersey before I knew not to go there. Another one told me that I was going to Brown University and she was clearly deranged as I stopped smoking marijuana after the 2nd grade when I realized it made me fat. So for now, Ill enjoy the pretty crystal ball and the lies about my semi successful future as I know psychics like me are liars that enjoy taking people's money for nothing. Ciao bella. xx

Conversations in the Spa.

The only problem with spa's in America is they are single sex. However, in Europe my father informed me that he attended a nude spa with his friend and his wife. I was very angry I wasnt invited, as this particular concept should most definitely be brought to America. Im almost always horny at the spa so having men around would truly be a complete oasis. The spa is sexual, the massage, the oil, the music, and the person rubbing you telling you to slowly relax. The most ironic thing about Spa is most of the people's problems go something like, "He thinks he's just going to give me half, just wait till we go to court" or MY drug dealer is so rude and never answers my calls. People with welfare, rape, poverty, and Aids, food stamps, issues (poor people problems) would never be found at the spa. Not just because they cant afford the 20% tip, but they think that their issues wont be solved from a deep tissue. I challenge middle america to sit in a whirl pool and masturbate away all your problems while sipping cucumber champagne  There is nothing I love more than going to the spa, except maybe for telling people that Im going./coming/from/ just went to lymphatic drainage seaweed wrap to cleanse  the adderal klonopin gin in the digestive system. 

Going to the spa to relax to take care of me is a lazy self indulgent worthwhile use of my time. Sometimes I bring my standard poodle with me so she can get one as well. 

Once I was sitting in the sauna contemplating why I am so bad at giving head (my reason for my massage) when some other women came in as well. There is something incredibly inviting when sitting amongst naked strangers. They had better bodies than me so I already hated them and pretended I didnt understand english.  If they were ugly washed up middle aged has beens I would have immediately starting talking to them and find out exactly what they did to ensure that I never do that. WHen they said hello I smiled and breathed hard into the sauna air, indicating that I was into relaxing the mood and not for naked small talk. They introduced themselves and began to ask me where I was from. I told them and and shifted my rudeness to openness when the prettier one mentioned how hung over she was.Perhaps we could be friends.  I proceeded to confide in them about my inabilities to perform amazing head despite the countless number of instructional videos I rented. They first said nothing, in disbelief that I had decided to talk about oral sex before we knew each other's diet's or last names. Clearly they had not met a glitter girl before. But because we were naked, wealthy, and sweaty they gave me a semi boring contrived lecture that I had heard in the 5th grade from my therapist about how to give good head. So while their advice was rather retarded, I did learn that I shouldn't pretend to be foreign in the spa, lest I know for certain they are democrats and dont like drugs.