oxymoron-ic

sober fun
bad trip
cheap alcohol
unmessy divorces
smart real estate agents
tasteful spread

Rich and Depressed? Ditto

Maybe your trust fund doesnt meet your expectations, or your favorite maid got deported, or you dont look emaciated, or he doesnt want to be with you even tho he reads the bible doesnt drink and has not that great of a figure, and cartier sold out of the diamond necklace you wanted for your unicorn, or cigarettes are making your mile time offensively slow..
Relax the glitter therapist is here, why dont you..
take a klonopin and get a massage
practice tai chi drinking chai tea
go to a museum and reflect on your sophistication and your wise years beyond your contemporaries
hire a hitman for your step mum and her kids
paint a nude painting of yourself and your dad and call it narcotics meets narcissism meets electra complex
throw a temper tantrum in the dressing room at barneys for fun
wrap yourself in your duvet and drink 6 bottles of champagne

Apparently Im still in 8th Grade in the suburbs as no one told me..

Whilst on my mission similar to that of Saul-Paul converting everyone to Christianity when asked why do you forsake me or something, a character that can only described as a melange of Jesus and the Late Versace also spoke to me and told me its time to face these realizations  and convert those who also struggle with these issues.

Marquee, lotus, highline, and butter are over

Throwing up and blacking out is not hardcore, just a triste example of someone who cant handle their liquor or party like a rich person

reading jane eyre, the catcher in the rye, flowers for algernon, the perks of being a wall flower, Help! my mummys driving me crazy! and what to do about your period are not novels for the sophisticated elite who are considered well read

a quote bowl is not something you put popcorn in

smoking marlboro lights even if they are skinny makes you look like your boyfriend hits you

its not rape if you were into it

pubic hair or underarm hair is not acceptable unless you are asian, french or both

its rude to refer to the taxi driver as driver

Hiring male strippers is not nearly as funny as it sounds unless flaccid penises and middle aged crows feet are appealing

everyone already broke their hymen in gymnastics or their uncle

sketchers and or wedges are over

it doesn't make you an artiste if you have a non digital black and white camera and havent sold any of your work nor are dear friends with leibowitz,

February Goals

I want to do for golddiggers what Vincent Van Gogh did for ears. Make them appreciated, respected, and have a violent cononation that makes them famous and talked about for centuries

At my next pedicure, mix marijuana leaves and liquid LSD into my polish

Pour vodka in  corn flakes.

Learn what health care is and how to say turn my swag on in every romance language

Get temporary asian eye surgery to go with my chinese accent for this month

Throw a violent seething  temper tantrum when they dont have peanut butter at Tasti Delight

Get Sarah Palin to follow me on Twitter and make a facebook album titled Glittery Mavericks get plastered and go hunting and fight down syndrome sort of

Wear a Masquerade mask and refuse to remove

Propose Naked Pilatays as my next highly nude semi erotic porn flick

Hire a gay and lesbian assistant and insist they makeout at every morning meeting

Ponder the notion

Egypt is currently in the news because its really fun to say Mubarak

When a guy is sucking on your boob you creepily flashforward to the sad day you start nursing

More people will vote for Obama in the next election if he chooses a candidate named Rama so it will read OBAMA-RAMA 2012

that Sex with a different race is for the purpose of experiencing what its like and facebook albums

That I frequently hack into people's blackberry's and text their parents naked pictures of them

That the club scene is pointless without sparklers and someone getting roofied

That dry humping is freakishly underrated especially with a midget

That most problems can be solved with gin, the Fiddler on the Roof soundtrack a lipstick lesbian assistant and several hundred twitter followers

That slutty quiet women have the best stories/career advice

That the olsen twins have separate shrinks

Ever read a famous poem that changed your thoughts on life?

Neither have I.

trouble in the fitness center

Like a sophisticated dabbler, I dabble in the art of exercise as my shrink says, if I run fast enough I may be too tired to lie and corrupt orphans, which is how I spend my time whilst not exercising.
So whilst Im running contemplating the unfairness of the fact that Im the nicest to Mother and Father yet still have to split everything in thirds sauteed with my overindulged manic childhood which lead me to my rawther corrupt sexual awakening.....
, this snooty blonde wannabe carriebradshaw looking thing asked me when I was done in a tone only used to the wine somelier who brought the wrong wine for the third time?

I immediately pulled out my earphones that was playing let it burn by usher lit a cig and kindly told her in a russian accent that Father told me if I did not have a perfect ass by graduation, I would not get my pied a terre and lifetime supply of virginia slims and veuve clicquot.
She immediately backed away and made this bizarre noise between a cackle and a sob. I clearly frightened her but her obnoxious question slash tone rendered my crystal claws to come out so that I could get back to channelling my zone or whatever to black r&b superstar who cheated on T Boz or LEft eye.
Im not done, I will never be done. I suggest you find another treadmill without glitter all over it.

annoying guys at the bar become staff

Every woman even if she is poor, mousy, boring and is from a jappy suburb, has had the experience of being hit on by a gentleman who is neither hot, wealthy, white, interesting, sharp, witty, or has oozing sex appeal coming out of his khakis and colored shirt. Now, instead of groaning and insisting that you only attract freaks with bad table manners or men who dont come from new money, relax because these men are now your staff. For example, if you text him the next day saying hey would you mind picking up a few groceries Im out at a meeting.. it sounds as if men do this all the time for you and he will do this as well. This works for mundane tasks, dogwalking, watering plants, caring for cats or fish, and so forth.

He will believe that after he does a few of these you will agree to go out with him. Alas you will not. ANd when he figures out your diabolical ways reminiscent of lady Macbeth, you can go back to the Four Seasons and find your best target. Enjoy the hunt, just make sure your gun is bedazzled and 9 milimeter.

I dress really poor to focus on golddigging

Unlike most of my contemporary social climbing socialites, I have extremely poor taste in clothes which I have been told my members of my family, my inner circle, my pets and the nail salon ladies. I buy underpants at duane reade hence my frigidness, wear sports bras to black tie parties, and most definitely think that Just Cavalli is sophisticated. Why? Frankly, Im lazy and would rather take a xanax and get a massage than waste an hour shopping with shopkeepers who didnt make it to modeling,

 I am aware I havent changed my wardrobe since 1997 shop at target, wear micheal starr, have juicy spread across my  on my ass and frankly do not know the difference between haute couture, and a 65% discount at payless. You may say, but it is impossible to become on the society pages if you are not wearing designer. Au to the contraire times 10. I cant tell you how many times I made maid sew prada labels into my limited too clothes in middle school to give off the appearance that I dress rich whilst looking poor, a skill that only half dozen hipster prestigious universities have mastered yet I am sadly still apprentice status
The reason for my fashion faux paws are none other than it amuses me to disturb my family who dresses to the nines even whilst masturbating and of course I spend my money (fathers) on things that I like. I like to quote throw down and stalk rich investment bankers in their habitat and travel to exotic places to give off the impression that I lead a cultured sophisticated multi lingual existence with an inflected accent.
Fashion is about who you are and a self expression and even though that is cornier than a hand job after highschool, I choose to express myself in clothes that function as clothes so that I can spend my time getting pedicures mixed with glitter and crushed up adderall.

Too chill for my money, not ur typical euro coked out financier

It seems that most of the women of my generation are looking for type of gentleman who is a global euro financier with a drug problem and a nice jacuzzi. That is most definitely me, although strictly non prescribed drugs, because of my neurotic bi polar frigid borderline anxious insomniac disorder, the drug culture sends me into a bit of a panic mode, forcing me to have an immediate session with my psychiatrist. If I do not know that the FDA approved it, as their children are some of my dearest friends, then these gentlemen who do drugs on the reg make me more uncomfortable than sex with a  rhinestone condom.
The reality is that while these men take you to nice dinners and have connections that can get you on the board of the Harlem Children's zone without doing anything besides watching reruns of great shows of black people in the 90's The Fresh Prince of Bel air and family matters, they can sometimes be rawther boring creatures who have nothing else to say besides how many drugs they do and how many homes they own in Europe and how they cant decide on how to advise their father on whether or not to buy the Lakers.
Take a moment and step away from the global financier with the fancy car and inflected-no- so-fake but--sort-of british accent.
There is something called "hidden money" among gentlemen of our generation. Men who have more money than Bloomberg but do not flaunt it obnoxiously with tales of buying sports teams and which waiter they had fired at La Grenouille for sounding too American.
Whilst this is mildly amusing for a short time, those who have "hidden money", meaning those who matriculate with the contemporary bougeouis simply because they can enjoy their company and act above all the glitter glamour.
They  can still buy you Van Cleef and make you come without having to talk about who has a more illegal staff in their summer home and sometimes introduce you to a whole new world of others too chill for their money that you can social climb on top of and dry hump.
The hidden money dudes "own it" but not in an unnecessary way where their austentatiousness is an overcompensation of a small penis and no other moves besides missionary that begs the question who really wants to be on a mission? The act of acting too chill for my money but quietly spending a lot is surprisingly super in right now and are really good at fingering and romance languages.
Hidden Money is this generation of wannabe socialite's best kept secret which will be further discussed as I gather more research when my half xanax half ritalin concoction hits my icy bloodstream.

confession number sixty nine

Whilst matriculating a high society cocktail party, I was introduced to this skinny private school mousy brunette mysterious weirdo. I didnt think much of her except that she was drinking straight vodka and had an indian date. I thought it was brave of her to bring an ethnic date to a waspy old money function where people refer to multi racial dating as mulatto and the civil war as the northern aggression.
However, a close wannabe glittergirl who always tells me Im thin and smart because she wants to come to my table, informed me that this girl whom I thought had trashy fashion sense and a keen sense of her surroundings, was in fact a Rockefeller and has the same psychiatrist Kristin Chenoweth, I immediately refilled her vodka, asked her date where I should stay when I go to Mumbai next week, and of course for her bbm so that we could get lunch tomorrow. New Best friends? thats an HIV-Positive.

Heres what I did today

bought a waterbed,
 took 16 multivitamins,
showered shaved and cut myself purposely because the blood looks like pretty decorations for christmas, stalked the risk management team at Lehman Brothers on Linkedin and asked them on a date via their assistants,
bought lube and put an add on craiglist for someone to apply it for me,
 learned all the lyrics to bombs over bagdad by outcast and the russian national anthem,
sprayed glitter in strangers faces, ate caviar for every meal,
chewed an entire box of splenda,
gave myself a jiff peanut butter mask and made a photoshoot to lady gaga

Define the Relationship DTR

My most long lasting and fulfilling relationships are naturally with the housekeeping at the Ritz in Paris. They understand that when we immediately feel a connection we can tell it to eachother. I have learned that this does not work as much with men as after they have told me I was cute and buy me a veuve and I give him a solid B+ blowjob, I immediately talk about possible nannies for the children and what good pre schools have the appropriate mix of jews and wasps in our respective areas. These conversations usually lead their driver to drop me off never to hear from them again.

Unfourtanetly, the Ritz in Paris help look forward to us talking about our progressing relationship of them continuing to make my beds. The problem arises as I cant pay someone to buy me drinks and buy me the crystal creme de la creme depressed housewife on the society pages life that I was born to lead. Perhaps, the next time I am blowing prospective investment banker whilst asking him who interiorly decorated his pied a terre, (if it isnt Philippe Stark I will not swallow FYI) I will not suggest he take me to Milan or the formal next weekend and instead just take a klonopin, make some yogurt and ask was it good for you? 

Young POsh and Broke

Forgive this title as it made me want to cut myself harder than I usually do, but it is on my list of reading material when waiting for my ambien to kick in. I recently purchased this book title lest there is some sort of earthquake rendering my series of trustfunds to explode along with my inability to give good head which would thus make me a member of the bourgeouis. 

I like to prepare for disastrous situations or have interesting cocktail party topics so I thought, why not learn some new words about finances. It turns out that this novella is truly for the birds as I asked Father what at quote FICO score is, something that this book claimed was absolutely essential. He proceeded to ask his blackberry and no one knew leading me to believe that this book was a conspiracy by Amazon simply not meant for me  or that if I actually do go broke and am not rich independently then I will have to rely at being an amazing lay in order to have my yacht on the mediterranean. 

Prescription Drugs are the Cash Order Checks

I most definitely have not carried cash since Ronald Reagan, insha allah (god rest his soul) was in office as it is obsolete, vulgar and has a wide range of bacteria that does not make you skinny if you accidentally eat it and swallow it. Recently I have found that my wide range of mood stabilizers can sold traded and exchanged for career advice, stock tips, anthropologie jewls, and dvds.
It was obvious since the early 90's that my team of  psychiatrists are my dearest friends and will most likely be bridesmaids at my 3rd wedding.

Driving Ms. Lazy

Whilst it is painfully bougeouis that I am learning a servants job of driving, perhaps the most difficult thing about it is I have to stay sober and not hit on my instructor for my own amusement. So, even though I have a horse and buggy driver of my own in several countries, it is time to learn to drive so that when I finally get my mustang that was used by Ryan Phillippe in Cruel Intentions, I will only get pulled over for a DUI and dead bodies in the car and not for a lack of license.

The problem is my driving instructor, like all of my staff, has also become my psychiatrist rendering both of us incapable of watching the road due to my sexual tales of confusion and social climbing. For example, while practicing my parking, which I constantly remind him I will never need as I do not go anywhere without a place where I can simply drive into or that has valet, I told him that I made out with one of my classmates who did not call me back even when I asked him to be in a facebook relationship.

Even though he is your typical middle class beer drinking  phoenix university type of gentleman where I would rather drown myself in the dead sea than go down on, he lends sound advice on men. While he is extremely confused on my desire to make it to the top of the social ladder, we will probably be dear friends once I learn how to turn the car on and stop looking at myself in the rearview mirror, showing him the places on my face that look rather masculine. 

Cleansing the toxins

Like every wannabe drugged out 3rd rehab post modeling career social climbing young woman with a penchant for anti depressants and gin, I have decided to go on a cleanse to rid my system of the bad energy and middle class contemporary's. This cleanse will involve wheatgrass, lymphatic drainages, clit massages, and vodka sodas. See you at the russian tea room.

Valentines Day just a few wks away and all the good hookers are booked

My favorite male euro gigilo who gives me massages and tells me Im pretty while we watch Bill O Reilly and talk about Tosca is booked for the evening.
Valentine's Day, while it is beyond passe to binge on gourmet cupcakes that cook baked or go out for an all the single ladies night at a hot asian restaurant, most likely we all will do it.  But heres an important fox newsflash. Valentines day is not rich, chic, or special because the presents involve disgusting taking hearts that would make me rather suck on xanax.
This valentines day I plan on most definitely selling stocks, mixing klonopin in my two year old cousin's applesauce and getting a brazilian wax.

Lies dipped in Caviar

When he calls at 3 am, he wants to play scrabble and watch foxnews

Slaying like Buffy's back

Whist I find the current trend of vampires offensive in a boring way and a rawther cheap interpretation of what Dracula soft core porn would look like, the one thing vampires have right is slaying. Slaying, not to be confused with murdering, which I do not condone, unless they wear retainers in public, is the conquering of the male species by women.
So slay on, conquer, tweetpic it, and seduce and destroy, And remember the best text is no text. One of my dearest skinny russian club minx's told me she didnt respond to a text for 2 days which led him to commit himself. Another left for a weekend in Florence with the girls and texted whilst she was in the airport on the way to teterboro.  Play the games, drive them insane-literally- but only if you feel like it. See you with a body shot. literally and figuratively.

Millenium Mean Girl

Back stabbing hobags are about as useless as the Bronx or placebo birth control pills and should be removed out of albums completely.
I heard too many tales from my other personalities of women who are narcissistic materialistic selfish uncaring freakshows who simply think they are better and rule the world. They do not, naturally our fathers do which is why they need to calm the eff down and take an ambien. Remove the toxic energy from your life and replace it with a new found rush of energy used for purging, being more republican, swapping medications with true friends, and shopping at Van Cleef. Your true friends, your true inner circle soul mates who come from rich families, are the ones whose narcissistic materialistic tendencies do not get in the way of your sophisticated shine.

Stop Right there; I know your whole life story

White button down, khaki's, drinking a glass of beer or pinot gris, republican douche bag bro frat star wispy blonde hair surrounded by bro's rating the girls at the bar and begin singing a song from boy scouts as they get drunker
He went to choate, Middlebury, studied in Madrid, hired at Morgan Stanley, summered on Nantucket, and occasionally Ibiza but tells everyone he practically lives there,  hates the yankees, stiff in bed, blonde mother with a boob job who goes to pilates and is an "interior designer, father is partner at lawfirm, first cousin is in rehab for coke, has anger issues, wants to marry his mother, pops adderal like its tic tacs, frequents the Palm, wears a backwards cap, seeing a new girl every week but often hooks up with his ex from freshman year at Middlebury but is poor and dresses badly but super hot, goes to the Yale club, buys tables so he can get laid.

Possible titles of My memoir due out this June,

My autobiography will be hired by a team of Arab financiers and literary specialists who received their masters from an Ivy or pseudo Ivy institution in England or the States.

Here are possible cover titles..

Conquering Wall Street one banker at a Time: This is the diary of a sophisticated Gold Digger

If Chanel designed Heroin needles

Bloody Louboutin's and Diet Coke

My Therapy Sessions at the Russian Tea Room

If its good, its laced: My life in Sequins and Xanax

Its about Sex, Money, Vicodin, and Pilatays

Hey its OK 2011 edition

Hey its ok to....
 smoke marijuana on the plane if you share with the stewardi and the rest of the first class cabin

punch someone at a club if it is photographed and each fighter has a posse

wear tiara's in the shower and ask others for help

give alcohol to children if they say please

cheat if your bored sexually as long as they are poor

queef in the mosque

write "I am pretty: on a homeless man's face with glitterpens whilst he is sleeping

feign period cramps even if you are over 50

tell a fat girl you are saving yourself for god or are gay

always receive and never give in terms of presents and sexual things

Party Favor Ideas from the Glitter therapist

Part of being a social climbing socialite is of course attending lots of clubs, charities, cocktails, dinners, and CEO's hotel room's. Another vital aspect is throwing parties and with the right assistant and the profits from selling stock in evian bought in the 80's one can throw a phenom party to celebrate high status.

Here are some fantastic party favor ideas I have used in the past:

anesthesia stolen from any doctor's office

left over anti depressants from the 80's (go great with banana vodka smoothies)

Plan B

michael kors perfume

vitamins

picture frames of yourself

knives from Morocco

vials of your blood

stocks 

hating on the forgotten parent: Mum's of contemporary socialites

I can talk incessantly about the sheer ridiculousness of hating on father's because he finances the rockstar lifestyle of platinum socialites, but what about those that hate on mother's?

Sure, she may be one botox treatment away from a classier older Heidi Montag, be so bored that her modeling/dancing/ "political-art trader interior design career" is over that she comments on every tagged picture and texts when shes ready to kill housekeeper number 4 or when she sees a t shirt that reminds her of a trip to Bora Bora in the 90's, and frankly be going through a new postpartum realization that she is an older less hot more annoying version of you.

BUT the fact is, most importantly, mother married father to have you, and gave birth to you, or in vitro fertillized you, or adopted you from a meth head stripper thus saving you from being a pitied toddler on mtv's TEEN MOM, ipso facto, you may not be able to dance at Provacateur with dom perignon and christian dior and marlboro's with glittery lighter without Father's hedgefunlawfirmsurgicalhospitalrealestate insanity,  but most definitely you would not physically be here without mother, nor have inherited the perfect ass, the sparkling blue eyes, the sophisticated personality, and the unwillingness to hook up with poor people without Mother's chromosome's and nurture.

She gave you first taste of fashion sense, taught you how to go to the bathroom, *supervised by the help, and attempted to show you sort of that women can have it all,  sharp career other than finance,  body, hot rich husband,  blonde family in Hamptons Magazine, friends who worship your every move, and of course is your biggest fan of you striving to be fabulous.

And if like many of the baby boom women, she is alcoholic negligent out of touch under medicated overweight fool, she is jealous of your youth and the fact that we can now tweet what clubs we are at or have more sexual partners without being labeled a promiscuous hoebag by dear frenimies.  The fact is, she taught you what you know about being a woman, sexuality, and classy drinking. Just because mother doesnt financially finance the rockstar lifestyle, she emotionally finances it, which obviously isnt nearly as important but it is still good to have back up.

I have no idea whats going on with nor do I care about...

new pledge classes, what an appropriate tip is, football, golden globe winners, condoms, cheap wine, trans fats, possible damage to neurons, organized group sex, label warnings, waiting lists, frat boys shotgunning, financial aid, british vogue, wall street hate crimes, the OWN network, global warming, literacy rates on other planets, pirates, sticking to a budget

Just another day in the rockstar lifetsyle

tweeted in the shower to Anne Coulter, one of my dearest

talked to my maid more than my mum

booked a ticket to moscow in cash

broke up a 2 year relationship by convincing a  member of my 2nd inner circle with self esteem problems and a botched nose job that her boyfriend had some alarming homosexual tendencies.

got the sushi man to feed me in my bed and turn on the jacuzzi

sold my trainer adderal and tried to make him kiss me #liketokisshelpwhendontwanttoexcercise

uploaded facebook pictures of my 5th birthday at Bungalow 8

emailed my shrink in Dubai some of my poetry for feedback

got a nosebleed  and refuse to wash my face so everyone will have a visual representation of my personality conflict of class and gangster

made a new smarterchild- smartestchild instant message me!

2010 called, they want their twitpics back

Things that are so 2010
I never know whats in, whats out, whats happening, and what isnt, mostly because Im surprised I havent been arrested that I cant be bothered. Here's what I would like to see gone this year.
 
Obsession over Black Swan  

Financial Crisis Recovery discussions

Drug Busts at Ivy Leagues

Floods

Gold diggers who call themselves Power Moms

Being Butch

Passport to Paris? more like Passport to Brooklyn

Like most whiteblooded american wannabe euro fab pre teens. I was deeply in love with the marykate ashley olsen phenomenon and spent an entire therapy session dealing with my depression that I was not part of the franchise as the third triplet. Money not so well spent as my identity crisis continues well into my adulthood.
Passport to Paris portrayed pre teen over sexualized olsens walking around the Rue de Eiffel tower  and meet two "french guys", played by new jersey guido's with bad accents and fall in love and realize there is more to life than boys and dances, which they realize by meeting boys and going to dances.

Whilst Marykate became a coked out bulimic and Ashley became a sophisticated yet subdued fashion designer,together they are youngest billionaires who simultaneously matriculated NYU and dwindle under the radar, proving that education destroys career.

Nevertheless, they are still fabulous, because they are rich, white, and thin and fake an authority on fashion and define a part of American pop culture. I suggest they bring the pre teen euro wanderer films back.

This week's painful realizations..

may need an abortion and a new eye doctor

its no longer legal to take 700mg of Percocet, 

factcheck at..://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2011/01/13/AR2011011306675.html

the only good thing about Black Swan was it made it socially acceptable to be a bulimic schizophrenic with a penchant for slicing open fingers

most of my paternal grandmother's diamonds are CZ

I madeout with a high school freshman 

what If you farted on a date with the CEO of warner brothers?

You met Karl Lagerfeld and he wanted you to try on his newest dress and you had your period?

You made a huge scene about picking up the tab and your visa was declined 3 times?

Your marijuana dealer came down with a serious case of the mumps that may have gotten into your bag you just bought?

You got extremely obvious botched liposuction on your ass and stomach?

You had to fly coach to Iraq for a press conference?

Your maid stole your jewels and your nanny cam wasnt on to prove this and she already left for poorsouthamerican country?

Someone accused you of being from Chappaqua?

Your place in Nantucket has seriously bulimia inducing interior decorating rendering guests incapable of visiting?

No, I do not carry Cash, its vulgar

Most things that I purchase whilst social climbing, i.e ambien, veuve, tuna tartare, and razors require cash which leads me to resort to odd gigs found on craigslist to keep up with my expensive substances whilst matriculating in the clubs. 

Nothing says I am middle class like a couple of 10 dollar bills lying around in your fake balenciaga, which is why when I let a japanese billionaire take my virginity for the 4th time, I only accept 50's. 100 dollar bills are trying too hard and send the message that I quote am trying to be baller and show my circle that while my dad is not on the forbes list I can still throw down and keep up with the Van Jones'. 

So, lets put our low grade cocaine away that can pass for ammonia and windex and down a class of expensive russian vodka and dry hump some Los Angeles wannabe Scorsese's. 

20 Somethings in the bars

Men who dont buy women drinks shouldnt go out
Women who go out in groups and act shy and frigid will go home alone
Men with bad teeth shouldn't smile
Bars that do not take credit cards are for the Bourgeoisie
If you are married, you soon will not be
Women who dance on table tops and make out with each other will never get old
Men who do not wear designer suits out do not have oil money

If my life were a true life episode.....

True Life..Im a slut and I drink Windex

True Life...I put cum in smoothies

True Life....I play tetris while snorting accutane

True Life: I spend my life searching for Tupac

True Life: I only eat frozen yogurt and am scared of jews

True Life: I apply for food stamps in my Manolo's and tiara

True Life: Im a neurotic prude who nearly went into a coma from anal

True Life: I am addicted to meetings for people who have been raped by a family member

father had gone Karl Marx on my ass

Seconds away from writing the new communist manifesto. Due to my excessive spending on prescription drugs and crystal mixed together I am forced to be on a budget this week and live like a bourgeouis, common person, peasant, local, homeless, low class coach flying stripper who wears L.L Bean and Guess.
GOing mildly INSANE... Here is what I have to resort to...
Andre
Coach on plane
tap water
napster
black tar
my finger instead of my 5,000 dollar vibrator that I pawned so I could go to Ciprianni's for the last time
walking
shoplifting bread (but I do that anyway)

Hopefully I will be committed to an insane asylum in Canyon Ranch so that father can see that the Karl Marx lifestyle drives me to the brink of schizophrenia

New Years Reservations and Resolutions

1. give better head
2. get my license whether or not i learn to drive
3. use more discretion
4. develop a system

excerpt from my 7th grade diary

Dear Diary,

I leave for paris tomorrow with sister and mother for spring vacation. I dont really want to go because its cold and mother speaks to much french and sister gets to buy as many clothes as I do. Its really so unfair. I am the older sister. She is also friends with a lot of celebrities. I am not popular and I try to grind a lot with guys at dances and it doesn’t work because I am not part of the cool group and I’m not good at volleyball. My therapist says I need to work on not screaming at Father and throwing plates when the computer doesn’t work. I tried masturbating but I think I touched my pee hole instead of my vagina. I didn’t wipe myself so my tush is really itchy. Its really not fair that I don’t have a lanvin bag. I think Im going to start drinking vodka before my commercial auditions.

Love

Glittertherapy, 

Bringing Superficiality to Yoga

I have talked incessantly about yoga as a sport for depressed middle aged mums who think they have found a new calling in life, when really its an hour to beat boredom. Nirvana, enlightment, and getting rid of materials are naturally my worst fear which is why I avoid yoga at all costs. I would rather take a laxative and get drunk and buy Jimmy Choo's and then go to tasti delite and read books in the self help section at Barnes and Noble. 

But if I practice yoga in a glittertherapy fashion, I wondered if my experience in the downward facing dog without an investment banker under me I could learn to see it as relaxing and therapeutic. So, with several bottles of Veuve Cliquot, a video camera, a thong, lots of eyeliner, and with a private skinny, brunette hipster actress instructor who is cultured, classy, and avoids social climbing and Harpers Bazaar came to instruct me in the comforts in my own pied a terre. 

I first wondered, since paying her in cash if the money were to be better spent on percocets and a hooker but with the full on attention of a private instructor and the deep breaths reminiscent of a hot makeout session with someone rich and fit and white, I got over myself. I breathed deep, and tweeted about how chic I was harmonizing Hindu prayers that remind me of a poor person cult, and of course added a twat pic, I realized that I should never judge anything until it is done in glittery rich social climbing way, even if yoga tries to bring you away from this. I know that the values of caviar, stocks, and veuve cliquot are live inside my heart and can never be pushed away. 

users and losers

Im friends with most people because it makes be look better by social standing. The fact is most people slow you down, and are selfish inconsiderate, moronic, angry, jealous middle class freaks who you are much better off without.

Friends that use you for your money and social standing and try to hide it are first of all doing a terrible job and second of all need to realize that you if you are stuck in Mexico and need help I will not push the CEO of Merril Lynch and go bail you out.

I am a user, but I own it. I make no mistake to try to suggest that the world we live in isnt just one networking cocktail party. The people that are there for you are your maid, your cat, god, and the pharmacy manager. 

Be a user, own it, love it, tag it, comment, medicate. 

Post Graduate Trauma

Ah so it ends, the childhood existence of being kind to parents so they dont ask questions about why sporadic 500 dollar withdrawals are made from the ATM. It appears that I have to find a job which will be a somewhat arduous task given that my skills are limited to making excel spread sheets of my vagina and on the next column a gentlemen's ball size compared to his trust fund. I am also good at making facebook albums and pretending Im cultured.
Now more then ever, my plan of marrying into a good family that travels and drinks a lot  is in full speed mode because I simply do not find that it is my calling to wake up before 3 and go do things.

Sundays

Most hate Sundays because they go to church and spend time with family and it means the weekend is over. It also means facing the drama of having to survive another week of unreliable drug dealers, stocks that need to be sold, and dicks that are too small.
To get over the Sunday Blues I have a different suggestion besides the usual doubling the dosage of anti depressants and cutting sauteed in spending trust find money on strip tease lessons with Carmen Electra. Instead,  do something that sounds productive, but requires little movement or thought and will actually leave you more fulfilled.
These include but are not limited too.. mediation, masturbating to opera, sitting in the Jacuzzi and read the Illiad, stretching, buying christmas gifts online for next year, naked video chat with foreign men, brazillian wax and vicodin, hanging out the pharmacy, memorize the periodic table, learn to use the iron as a weapon, write i give good head in japanese,

My friends are the staff

my therapist, maid, massage man, trainer, LSAT tutor, pilatays instructor, nutritionist, chiropractor, plastic surgeon, holistic expert, acupuncturist, sponsor, driver, assistant, and pakistani magazine man are all my dearest friends.
They know my secrets, my lovers, my blood, my pain, my inability to microwave popcorn, or download porn, yet they still work for me (father).
The fact is friends come and go but staff, like dolce and gabbana sunglasses are forever. As long as the money comes, the staff tells you what you want to hear, give great advice, and is always at your side in a gang fight in a bar.

Brother, check your priorities

It is really obnoxious to put your cigarettes out in my Dom Perignon bottle. 

We are no longer in High-school

1. Do not talk about your staff,your bidet or your mansion in Dubai. It is no longer impressive that you come from money.

2. Please wipe your nose before coming out of the bathroom. It is no longer amusing to have cocaine, meth, heroin, xanax, adderall or oxy dripping down to show how intensely you party and how sloppy you are with your material. I usually have boogers coming out of my nose, but I have a swanky Hermes scarf from the 60's with blood on it from my last fight at the Beverly Hills Hotel. 

3. If you give a handjob as a final performance, let him finish in your mouth. We are adults now, the prude game was cute but unless you are saving yourself for death or god, or which ever comes (no pun intended) first, finishing is in the mouth or the vagina or the fish bowl. 

4. Calling yourself an artist makes you sound uneducated and deformed and from the projects. 

5. Do not expect to impress your guests if your parents are not home. Most of your guests are in fact curious where Mr. Chapstick the fourth is in order to discuss future business endeavors and the War in Rwanda. 

I have a Jesus Complex similar to Camille Grammar

I too was once a sad depressed loser who was unmedicated and disturbed. However the inner freak outsider who no longer showcases herself  due to intense medication to calm my schizophrenia bi polar neurotic manic mixture of fun. I still do see myself in freaks who have not found the right medication and are troubled and misled on the socialite path.
Ipso facto, the skinny biatches who are outsiders who are labeled as those who are bad dressers, have easily identifiable nose jobs, have shady intentions, eats fast food, and give bad head are in fact the most divine and most need of my help. As long as it is is rich, I take it under my wing and bring it to my inner circle.
I am like Jesus in the sense that I invite freaks to my tables at clubs if they split some of the tab and look rich in my photos.
Im not trying to say I am no longer disturbed or schizophrenic. I am just more of a controlled neurotic bulimic slut who wants to help others overcome their darkness and come clubbing while heavily medicated.

Going Out Routine

1. Medicine in Blender with peanut butter

2. Shower with perrier

3. Douse myself in olive oil and caviar and roll around in money

4. charge battery to take pictures of myself at tables at clubs with my girls wrapped around each other in herve leger

5. burn myself with straightener and if anyone asks about it I respond with, I am in a classy gang"

6.  practice my non desperate face in the mirror

7.  perfume my vagina

8. do some warrior 1

9.  poop

Lost follower again

Thank you for re following whoever you are. That means a lot from the depths of my inner sexual vibes.