Wednesday, November 30, 2011
I have so much money yet so many problems
My trust fund statistically metaphorically speaking is like that guy's dick that you didnt even realize was in you. If it was just a little bit bigger, you would have achieve maximal orgasmagical private jet body guard necessity status.
Truth or Dare, Im a slut and do a lot of drugs
I love to play truth or dare because I have no qualms about letting people know that I have slept with more than 40 people and consider methanphetamines an essential part of my lifestyle. Consequently subsequence, I enjoy when people confess to me their truths as I purposely choose dare's that they will not due like blow their father's.
Secrets are powerful, bitches. Play this game as a tool for future manipulation blackmail techniques.
Secrets are powerful, bitches. Play this game as a tool for future manipulation blackmail techniques.
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Things I need to Procure for my New pied a terre
Friends that are boring but Rich, Scorned Lovers, People I invite out because you look good in pictures and can steal your cash when not looking, I am having a party and I need a few things for my new home.
Father's trays from his first marriage
An aquarium
A soap dispenser that spills out blow designed by Philipe Starke
A Blackcard
A coffee table book about Reagan Economics and Rim Jobs
A ceiling mirror
A gun
A caraffe
Room service
a rape kit
a telescope
a picture of me and ghandi
A nazi propaganda artifact
a silver pen from an Ivy League Business school with my name engraved
See you soon
Father's trays from his first marriage
An aquarium
A soap dispenser that spills out blow designed by Philipe Starke
A Blackcard
A coffee table book about Reagan Economics and Rim Jobs
A ceiling mirror
A gun
A caraffe
Room service
a rape kit
a telescope
a picture of me and ghandi
A nazi propaganda artifact
a silver pen from an Ivy League Business school with my name engraved
See you soon
Dont tell anyone -but my step mom is Diane Lane
What it means to be cool in the 1 percent 20 something lazy rich kid adderall addicted housekeeper obsessed res-erection of wall street generation is something I have yet to discover, though that will never stop me. sui generis.
I look to my other 3rds of my inheritance for spiritual guidance, numbers for maijuana, and text messages that hide my horny animalistic desperation for sex and attention and convey instead, Ive got a million things going on, Ill hang out if I have time.
Sister and Brother, inherently cool though could not be more different in their coolness.
Brother, a more contemporary well educated playboy who would soon rather cut off a finger than commit to one woman for the evening, yet has a very soulful disposition as he cried through The Help and studies philosophy
and Sister a global economist with impeccable fashion sense and an heir of indifference that strikes the perfect balance between a superiority complex and a genuine curiosity in meeting personalities, not resumes
How do I become a Boss? In the know? the creme de la creme of the elite, famous for drunken blackouts inherent racism, trashy clothing yet very polite composure?
Both constantly tell me not to care, not to stalk celebrities, not to tweet about places where you are, and to most certainly not like people for their money or what they could do for you.
THis is extremely difficult as all I do are stalk celebrities, tweet about where I am, and like most people for their money. Another lesson they have tried to impose is never be impressed. Your step mom is Diane Lane? Cool. Your Dad has 6 private Jets and funds questionable organizations that may or may not be linked to the Bin Laden's? Phenom
The point is make the people work for you, because everyone else is too caught up in giving blow-jobs to these people and I would stand out if my response was.. yes AND?
It seems I have a lot to learn in climbing to the top of the social ladder by being photographed at the right parties and dating a boy who's father is new money and mother is old money so I can avoid the accusation that I am after one or the other. And until then I will just have to keep listening, and continuing my quest to the top as an international well educated well bred park avenue party girl heiress diseases aside and footnoted substance addictions.
See you at the St. Regis
The Mini Bar Drama-Miniature Snacks-Maximum Bill
Throughout my childhood of my diamond encrusted temper tantrum filled under medicated family adventures sans scotch and valium, I have always seeked solace in the multi milly chocolates that 5 star resorts so strategically place.
I, like many bulimic manic alcoholic bi polar schizophrenic women often forget in my veuve cliquot xanax haze that chocolate is not part of a healthy lifestyle diet filled with cocaine, salad nicoise, smart water, tuna tartare and perrier to achieve eurotrash socialite figure status.
After a night of Israeli dry humping with unlikeminded rich jappy girls who still make references to camp friends,
I came home to my ambassador suite to enjoy the high end snacks, I had seemingly forgot that unlike my dress to the Opening Night of the Opera and my 10th yogalates class, these chocolates were not free and would show up on the hotel Bill.
Father, a diet Nazi most literally and figure-a tively who hasnt had a carb since 2004 and keeps a checklist of all of his employees he has beaten at tennis on his palm pilot proceeded to scream at me in front of the concierge and all those around him about my utter misinterpretation and misunderstanding that all foods besides scotch and dover sole no butter are no permitted to be consumed under no circumstances, let alone coming from the mini bar due to the ridiculously stock market inflated prices.
Still Drunk from the night before and smelling of pre war pre cum since I hooked up with a solider, I naturally did what I do best and make a huge scene that would ultimately end in blood and foam at the mouth. I cried my eyes out that I was a terrible failure not only as a daughter but as a person and we would immediately have to book a joint session and double my xanax klonopin prescription to work out our serious issues.
There is no greater boyfriend than father and we havent had a fight since the time I accidentally burned his italian tutor with my cigarette and it made me more manically depressed than usual that he was painfully dissapointed in my mini bar adventures.
He later resolved the issue by booking sister and I a nice spa weekend in Santa Fe along with a class on how to knock yourself out in a drunken drugged out stupor before opening the mini bar. More money More problems? Hardly, the dramatic performance was great for my acting repertoire and nothing gets Father in the mood to spend money like making me feel sad. Ill see you in the steam room.
Stay skinny bitches.
xoxox
Arbitrarily Jewish- Is wearing Chanel Anti semitic?
The first thing Father, a self hating Jew told me when we got off my first class delta flight that served heinous snacks hashstag douchebag problems, was that Coco Chanel, was a rampant raging anti semitic homophobe. It is a shame she is dead as I assume they would have been great friends, and I suppose I would not have had to pay full price if they banged.
Alas, I am here in Israel, frequently bursting into Arab prayer of Allah Akbar for the sheer pleasure of making others uncomfortable and to showcase my national New York City socialite terrorist network. f In my Israeli Homeland visiting sister, my hotter, smarter, richer because she doesn't spend her money on drugs, less pretentious but better at social climbing and seemingly unfazed by celebrities and boys with titanium cards best friend.
Homeland sparks question about home, where you are from and what it means to be at home. I have noted before that I am jewish by persuasion and not by mentality as I enjoy matriculating in country clubs with waspy trust fund alcoholics who use the word chink.
So is this home? I am proud to be a Jew, proud to be in yet another one percent category, but Ill take my Jewish heritage minus the cheapness the crassness, the jappy dispositions, the long island accents, the quest to find a nice jewish boy, and the notion that Palestine does not deserve land.
Lets Be real, Palestinian's are Arab, Arabs's have oil, oil makes electricity which makes my blackberry work so ipso facto Palestine is the reason I can BBM.
The first time I came here, I was flying to Nantucket but mistakenly got on the wrong flight when I was 7 and decided to stay the week. The 2nd time I went on Birthright to meet likeminded young pre pre med jewish members of the pseudo Ivy League network to begin my powerful social climb disguised by my feigned curiosity in the Dome of the Rock.
Alas, I am here in Israel, frequently bursting into Arab prayer of Allah Akbar for the sheer pleasure of making others uncomfortable and to showcase my national New York City socialite terrorist network. f In my Israeli Homeland visiting sister, my hotter, smarter, richer because she doesn't spend her money on drugs, less pretentious but better at social climbing and seemingly unfazed by celebrities and boys with titanium cards best friend.
Homeland sparks question about home, where you are from and what it means to be at home. I have noted before that I am jewish by persuasion and not by mentality as I enjoy matriculating in country clubs with waspy trust fund alcoholics who use the word chink.
So is this home? I am proud to be a Jew, proud to be in yet another one percent category, but Ill take my Jewish heritage minus the cheapness the crassness, the jappy dispositions, the long island accents, the quest to find a nice jewish boy, and the notion that Palestine does not deserve land.
Lets Be real, Palestinian's are Arab, Arabs's have oil, oil makes electricity which makes my blackberry work so ipso facto Palestine is the reason I can BBM.
The first time I came here, I was flying to Nantucket but mistakenly got on the wrong flight when I was 7 and decided to stay the week. The 2nd time I went on Birthright to meet likeminded young pre pre med jewish members of the pseudo Ivy League network to begin my powerful social climb disguised by my feigned curiosity in the Dome of the Rock.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Purposely Pretentious
There are many an activity I do simply for being able to say that I do them. It is sort of like having a job, the social abnormality of choosing to take a period of rest time sounds like a euphemism for rehab sauteed in a mental breakdown, which it essentially is. I am living in my own Girl Interrupted movie sans the Vietnam war and Angelina Jolie but I have a maid that gives me baths and take part in dance classes where I pretend I am a tree to deal with my manic shizophrenia and my penchant for hiding chickens under my bed.
My tasks are showering, drinking coffee, doing pilates, fixing my Loubitons and refilling my prescriptions and truth be told right now thats all I can handle. Essentially what I am asking for is a prize for never having been arrested, pregnant, in rehab, or caught shoplifting cheating or selling drugs..in the post 911 world.
1. I drink fine red wine at every meal
2. I go to the opera thrice seasonally and memorize the composers and lyrics
3. I go to Harlem to do charity in My Benz
4. I only eat at Cippriannis, Le Bernadin, the 4 seasons, La Grenouille, Daniel, and Yura
5. I ask questions to tour guides in museums
6. I quote from Proust and Chekov and the old testament frequently
7. In my spare time I write toasts for parties and weddings so at the spur of the moment I can say "just the right thing"
8. I pretend I know your boss from Childhood when you tell me you are a low tier analyst at J.P Morgan
9. I have ethnic friends and take pictures with them on facebook to prove my rampant unracism
10. I pretend I know the bouncer when I walk into the club and ask how the children are and kiss them twice
11. I end every text in french with bisous bisous
12. I only speak to my dad in Italian
13. If a shop wont let my standard poodles in then I immediately take my business elsewhere and sell stocks
14. If you try to fuck me before paying for dinner and or a weekend in Paris-I assume you were raised in a trailer with bad lighting and no cable.
15. I only watch films with subtitles and purposely have never scene films that define our generation
16. I use French 75 cocktails as lube
17. I use the phrases personal investments and brokers and it started in the roots of christianity in bar conversation
My tasks are showering, drinking coffee, doing pilates, fixing my Loubitons and refilling my prescriptions and truth be told right now thats all I can handle. Essentially what I am asking for is a prize for never having been arrested, pregnant, in rehab, or caught shoplifting cheating or selling drugs..in the post 911 world.
1. I drink fine red wine at every meal
2. I go to the opera thrice seasonally and memorize the composers and lyrics
3. I go to Harlem to do charity in My Benz
4. I only eat at Cippriannis, Le Bernadin, the 4 seasons, La Grenouille, Daniel, and Yura
5. I ask questions to tour guides in museums
6. I quote from Proust and Chekov and the old testament frequently
7. In my spare time I write toasts for parties and weddings so at the spur of the moment I can say "just the right thing"
8. I pretend I know your boss from Childhood when you tell me you are a low tier analyst at J.P Morgan
9. I have ethnic friends and take pictures with them on facebook to prove my rampant unracism
10. I pretend I know the bouncer when I walk into the club and ask how the children are and kiss them twice
11. I end every text in french with bisous bisous
12. I only speak to my dad in Italian
13. If a shop wont let my standard poodles in then I immediately take my business elsewhere and sell stocks
14. If you try to fuck me before paying for dinner and or a weekend in Paris-I assume you were raised in a trailer with bad lighting and no cable.
15. I only watch films with subtitles and purposely have never scene films that define our generation
16. I use French 75 cocktails as lube
17. I use the phrases personal investments and brokers and it started in the roots of christianity in bar conversation
The food at Google is not that Good and other confessions of young entrepreneurs from the techosphere
I have recently reconnected with a new member of my inner circle. A skinny jewish genius blonde who rubs elbows with Arab investors and likeminded NASA engineers. She let me in on the secrets on the ins and outs of other options for other social climbing socialites like yours truly to do other things besides do cocaine, get pedicures, sharpen knives and memorize passages from the Quaran and Ann Coulter books while simultaneously trying to hack into the Alquaeda server.
She is starting a real live business and is already inundated with lawsuits, potential investors, and arbitrary trips to space. She essentially is fabulous rich and pretty but also smart and sexual and has other things to talk about besides Urban Outfitters, Birthright, shots, and drunken and makeouts.
A rare occasion in generation Rich kid lazy #letmetweetaboutnothingalldaylong.
I tried to make a business of sex toys for rape victims but found I was much better at making necklaces out of my anti depressants and indulging in my drivers crush on me.
Being on her side will be a phenom addition to my social climbing excursions as she is on the brink of coming of a multi billy enterprise created by HERSELF. RAW. THUG LIFE. RICH. HOT POWERFUL. I DIE. She socializes with the family of Mark Zuckerberg, girls that punch themselves in the face to get laid and then go to L.A to learn kickboxing from the same guys that taught the C.I.A to kickbox, and genius M.I.T potential business partners.
My inner circle has been added some new freshly added tech blood with big words and C.E.O jargon.
She is starting a real live business and is already inundated with lawsuits, potential investors, and arbitrary trips to space. She essentially is fabulous rich and pretty but also smart and sexual and has other things to talk about besides Urban Outfitters, Birthright, shots, and drunken and makeouts.
A rare occasion in generation Rich kid lazy #letmetweetaboutnothingalldaylong.
I tried to make a business of sex toys for rape victims but found I was much better at making necklaces out of my anti depressants and indulging in my drivers crush on me.
Being on her side will be a phenom addition to my social climbing excursions as she is on the brink of coming of a multi billy enterprise created by HERSELF. RAW. THUG LIFE. RICH. HOT POWERFUL. I DIE. She socializes with the family of Mark Zuckerberg, girls that punch themselves in the face to get laid and then go to L.A to learn kickboxing from the same guys that taught the C.I.A to kickbox, and genius M.I.T potential business partners.
My inner circle has been added some new freshly added tech blood with big words and C.E.O jargon.
Happy Thanksgiving! Im thankful my boyfriend doesnt know I check his email
It isnt normal for me to be a giver, in any matter place form, season or sexual act unless I am promised Jennifer Miller Jewls and a facebook relationship.
Ipso facto, a rare ocurence has struck deep inside me that renders me necessary to address the following of what I am happy for in my life.
My psychopharmacologist gives me whatever I want
I live in my uncles building which means I never have to pay rent and he also touched me as a child which I havent told anyone and will refuse to as long as our agreement stands forth
It is very likely we will have a GOP candidate
It is one year closer to my parents death and thus one year closer to attaining the assets to which I deserve
I only punched 29 people in the face at the club and was merely charged with light drug possession and sentenced to community service to which my hours filled helping poor kids read when Im bored and have something else to talk about
I applied for dual citizenship in Morocco and Italy
My sex tape was only leaked to St. Tropez and Monaco
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Arbitrary Analysis
I love upper middle class parties, because they still have money, but aren't obnoxious about it.
Hey Its ok to
1. be unable to differentiate your holes
2. spend 700 dollars paraphernalia for your puppies or dolphins
3. memorize an excerpt from Foreign Affairs and frequently recite it at various cocktail parties to establish your asian tutored multi milly education
4. never acknowledge your waiter
5. masturbate to your boyfriend's stock portfolio
6. post pictures of yourself with celebrities and cite them as your friends and get personally offended when they cant come to your birthday party
7. have every meal at Cippriani's and expense it to your "interior design venture capitalist establishment"
8. Have your holiday party on Venus
9. Hope that your friends tragically get hit by a car if they get engaged
10. put crystal meth in your ex boyfriends travel bag right before he goes through security.
11. List your friends by description that is most easily recognizable my gay friend, my crippled friend, my poor friend, my asian friend, my adopted friend, my charity friend et cetera ad naseum
2. spend 700 dollars paraphernalia for your puppies or dolphins
3. memorize an excerpt from Foreign Affairs and frequently recite it at various cocktail parties to establish your asian tutored multi milly education
4. never acknowledge your waiter
5. masturbate to your boyfriend's stock portfolio
6. post pictures of yourself with celebrities and cite them as your friends and get personally offended when they cant come to your birthday party
7. have every meal at Cippriani's and expense it to your "interior design venture capitalist establishment"
8. Have your holiday party on Venus
9. Hope that your friends tragically get hit by a car if they get engaged
10. put crystal meth in your ex boyfriends travel bag right before he goes through security.
11. List your friends by description that is most easily recognizable my gay friend, my crippled friend, my poor friend, my asian friend, my adopted friend, my charity friend et cetera ad naseum
Real Talk November
1. I tweet about travels to let people know I have a unique complex understanding of cultures and interest in the world around me and that I have money
2. If you are not a private school top shelf liquor drinking louboutin wearing adderall junkie sauteed in daddy issues, low self esteem with vulgar humor and obsession with my mother than I am unclear why we are friends
3. Ive watched my own conception
4. I have never been grocery shopping, do not know how to work a dishwasher a microwave an oven a freezer or lightbulbs and am very untrusting of puerto ricans
5. I always have diet coke, crushed up xanax, my gun, nipple clams, lube, and glitter spray in my target for chanel purse
6. My personal dream is to live life to the song "So Rich So pretty" by M Avalon by quote being a girl with caked up makeup smoking cigarettes to pass the time waking up to a bottle of wine on the nightstand bites and scratches the blinds
2. If you are not a private school top shelf liquor drinking louboutin wearing adderall junkie sauteed in daddy issues, low self esteem with vulgar humor and obsession with my mother than I am unclear why we are friends
3. Ive watched my own conception
4. I have never been grocery shopping, do not know how to work a dishwasher a microwave an oven a freezer or lightbulbs and am very untrusting of puerto ricans
5. I always have diet coke, crushed up xanax, my gun, nipple clams, lube, and glitter spray in my target for chanel purse
6. My personal dream is to live life to the song "So Rich So pretty" by M Avalon by quote being a girl with caked up makeup smoking cigarettes to pass the time waking up to a bottle of wine on the nightstand bites and scratches the blinds
My seduction techniques besides roofies
I would like to think of myself of a well thoroughbred park avenue heiress who woos men with my sensual disposition and knowledge of fine french bordeaux's and opera. It turns out the only man I would seduce is father and my seduction techniques are perhaps slightly for the born in Eisenhower generation, which in fact is not a bad thing. My brother recently informed me that I probably would have thrived at Short Hills high school where Juicy Couture and blacking out were abundant and acceptable.
Father is a great boyfriend who takes me to the theatre and is treated like the Mafia at le Bernadin, but I suppose its time I spend time with men my own age who appreciate my inability to not put out, penchant for ponies, tuna tartare and klonopin and my gin soaked heart.
I asked my nanny how she seduced her husband and she told me through mutual interests and love and respect. All I heard was blah blah blah hemustbereallygoodinbedbecausehehasnomoney.
Alas, here is what I have come up with to seduce low tier analysts lawyers studio execs, this does not apply to artists, writers, or anybody of a creative field that will not give us social climbing socialite Reagan worshipping manic alcoholics the lifestyle to which we are accostomed
1. casually leave Chekov and Gogol Books lying around
2. do not underestimate the power of after an intense discussion of possibilities of the 2nd state solution of peace in the middle east and then put all of his balls in your mouth
3. suggest possibilities of employment at Father's firm
4. offer of prescription drugs
5. talk about bank accounts
6. talk about Ronnie and Nancy's marriage
7. watch Y tu Mama Tambien, Unfaithful, or Cruel Intentions
Father is a great boyfriend who takes me to the theatre and is treated like the Mafia at le Bernadin, but I suppose its time I spend time with men my own age who appreciate my inability to not put out, penchant for ponies, tuna tartare and klonopin and my gin soaked heart.
I asked my nanny how she seduced her husband and she told me through mutual interests and love and respect. All I heard was blah blah blah hemustbereallygoodinbedbecausehehasnomoney.
Alas, here is what I have come up with to seduce low tier analysts lawyers studio execs, this does not apply to artists, writers, or anybody of a creative field that will not give us social climbing socialite Reagan worshipping manic alcoholics the lifestyle to which we are accostomed
1. casually leave Chekov and Gogol Books lying around
2. do not underestimate the power of after an intense discussion of possibilities of the 2nd state solution of peace in the middle east and then put all of his balls in your mouth
3. suggest possibilities of employment at Father's firm
4. offer of prescription drugs
5. talk about bank accounts
6. talk about Ronnie and Nancy's marriage
7. watch Y tu Mama Tambien, Unfaithful, or Cruel Intentions
Be weary of bitches who claim they model, its most likely for Nordstroms Preteen section
When I was 6, my trainer was married to a model, but by model I mean someone took pictures of her hands...and her vagina, something that I discovered through my PI.
She used to take me rollerblading, and let me excuse this sad excuse for travel as it was the 90s and everyone was on an erratic combination of oxy and quaaludes so they thought shoes with wheels was the best thing since lube.
In any case, they later divorced and she took the dogs.
She used to take me rollerblading, and let me excuse this sad excuse for travel as it was the 90s and everyone was on an erratic combination of oxy and quaaludes so they thought shoes with wheels was the best thing since lube.
In any case, they later divorced and she took the dogs.
Some guy left me in the middle of sex, how was your weekend?
On my quest to becoming a rock star and living the dream, I left my clients apartment whose children I babysit for, and by babysit I mean let them watch porn while I go through their parents things.
After I had made my drug money, my dealer dropped me at one of my likeminded skinny semi rich brunette who told me she was hosting a party for bankers who were not white. Since I am feeling bi racial these days I naturally agreed and casually brought over a bottle of cristal just to let her guests know that I was probably the most fun yet psychotic guests with good breeding.
Her good looking friend was not exactly my type while he was a white jewish alcoholic bro with a 6 pack and a penchant for slutty long island girls, like yours truly he was not exactly country club waspy trust fund material.
Ipso facto whilst I had not shaved, after a few casual touches and bump and grinds to 90's beats from our generation we went back to my flat because I am british. He was impressed with my doorman and my 4s and as we finger banged he answered his phone to a cockblock who could not get home and bounced.
I get it, bro's before ho's. But I thought that the rule was moot when dealing with being inside one. Apparently not, but I have to respect his values for loyalties of his good friends even if he left me high and dry, literally.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Karma's a bigger bitch than my own mother
So I really cant with self checkout, it leaves otherwise stoned yet mildly good natured high school drop outs and without a job and thus without someone to look at and say at least im not the checkout girl at Fairway.
Doesnt exactly have the same ring when one says it to a machine.
Ipso facto the self checkout was obviously broken so I stole my vegan brown rice sushi because no one assumes that A chanel bag wearing eyeglass hiding trust fund spoiled prude with an aggressive gait that is mistaken for masculinity is shoplifiting.
Neverthefuckingless, I wander into my marble safe to take out my 5 50's for the night for rolling and taxi cab purposes and they are gone. Alas Someone stole them. Now I naturally let Time warner matriculate in and out of my apartment along with several other members of my inner circle who need my bed for sex furing work hours while I am getting my nails done. It is possible that in my xanax and veuve haze I dropped my cash since wallets are vulgar and I hold cash in my hand always waiting to tip someone.
But I will never steal sushi again. Karma is a huge cunt and I now have to resort to going over my amex limit and sell this month's klonopin prescription at Mich U to get cash,
See you at the St. Regis. Ill be needing a drink, and I promise Ill be nice, I could use some good karma.
Doesnt exactly have the same ring when one says it to a machine.
Ipso facto the self checkout was obviously broken so I stole my vegan brown rice sushi because no one assumes that A chanel bag wearing eyeglass hiding trust fund spoiled prude with an aggressive gait that is mistaken for masculinity is shoplifiting.
Neverthefuckingless, I wander into my marble safe to take out my 5 50's for the night for rolling and taxi cab purposes and they are gone. Alas Someone stole them. Now I naturally let Time warner matriculate in and out of my apartment along with several other members of my inner circle who need my bed for sex furing work hours while I am getting my nails done. It is possible that in my xanax and veuve haze I dropped my cash since wallets are vulgar and I hold cash in my hand always waiting to tip someone.
But I will never steal sushi again. Karma is a huge cunt and I now have to resort to going over my amex limit and sell this month's klonopin prescription at Mich U to get cash,
See you at the St. Regis. Ill be needing a drink, and I promise Ill be nice, I could use some good karma.
Sushi Trust Funds and the Elliptical: Welcome to the 1% of 20 somethings in a Cosmopolitan city
As I walked out of my pied a terre in leggings, ugg boots, chanel purse, nonfatventinowhip and 30 mgs of Adderal off to my non real job in Fashion PR at a low tier fashion house that I pretend is actually a legitimate institution and walk around like im the fucking karl lyod blanklagerfeld of Manhattan, I realized that I hadnt stolen the silver trays from My father's first marriage like I was supposed to that afternoon.
I went for a tuna roll and a veuve with some girlfriends whom I secretly hoped would get mercury poisoning as they had new boyfriends at prestigious hollywood studios or had lost 15 from stealing her grandmother's chemo drugs. I realized that most of my circle was a group of women trying to make it to the creme de la creme of society without actually admitting it which on one hand was hilarious as they were certainly not fooling me, and another a realization that I have a lot of serious competition, which should be obvious considering my dealer is always late.
I went for a tuna roll and a veuve with some girlfriends whom I secretly hoped would get mercury poisoning as they had new boyfriends at prestigious hollywood studios or had lost 15 from stealing her grandmother's chemo drugs. I realized that most of my circle was a group of women trying to make it to the creme de la creme of society without actually admitting it which on one hand was hilarious as they were certainly not fooling me, and another a realization that I have a lot of serious competition, which should be obvious considering my dealer is always late.
occupy you are an idiot
I am for ever thankful that the occupy movement is soon on its way as I have never been so personally disturbed and offended. I am wildly against free speech that is not of christian doctrine involving guns and cocaine. I owe every aspect of my wildly unstructured ludicras lifestyle to wall street so the fact that their service to my well being is even being questioned is enough to make me go on a wild xanax binge. Even my maid, over tea and scrabble, agreed that the movement was a hippie liberal outcry for attention and photos on page 6. Job well done
My dear brother also informed me, that a contemporary millionare just dont care communist classmate was extremely supportive of the movement so much that he wanted to travel all the way to New York City to join his brothers in ZUchinni park. He made it to Newark.
Off with you protestors. Make me a rye turkey salad with dressing on the side and a side of cous cous and diet coke and perrier mixed together not touching and go back to work.
My dear brother also informed me, that a contemporary millionare just dont care communist classmate was extremely supportive of the movement so much that he wanted to travel all the way to New York City to join his brothers in ZUchinni park. He made it to Newark.
Off with you protestors. Make me a rye turkey salad with dressing on the side and a side of cous cous and diet coke and perrier mixed together not touching and go back to work.
Too Close for Comfort Driver
The truth about myself is I am kind to those from all walks of life as long as it is clear that I am better and of higher stature. The staff are my best friends because they always are nice to me and are always free to listen to my problems about the time I dropped coke at CVS on video or the time when I was so unshaven I had to use the Ritz' desk scissors to trim my vagina.
I often cite the staff as quite close dear friends of whom have their own table at my various birthday parties. I often treat my spanish driver who is young hip fresh and hood as my personal therapist, but on this one occasion he took it too far and turned the tables where he confided in me, he seemed to have misunderstood that our friendship is onesided. He asked for legal advice as he had been caught rolling a jay and has a prior record of assault.
This kind of information sent me into a rather erotic tizzy as assault is always dirty and dangerous and the adrenaline rush was between a fear for my life and an enjoyable high.
Because I went to a pseudo ivy league and therefore may as well have a J.D from Berkeley, I told him that marijuana charge is not something to fear even if he has a prior record, but him making me to his thug life made me uncomfortable and lead me to the conclusion that I need to stay on the non assault side of the line between driver and client.
Moved out of Chez Cray
Its a true milestepping growth stone when one moves out of the whom whose vagina you spurted out of. But the time has come to grow up and have bills in my own name that I do not pay. In fact, I write off everything is a glittertherapy expense against my Father's income so my actual living expenses are few and far between.
So here I am, Ive finally gained my independence with Father paying my rent and maid service everyday and my arduous responsibilities of sounding smart at cocktail parties, getting photographed and meeting a gentlemen of suitable socioeconomic class.
Living alone is not all it is cracked up to be, as truth be told, I really do miss my maid.
Here is what is in my new pied a terre thus far
knives
cocaine
long mirror to douse myself in olive oil
telescope to spy on neighbors
bathroom stolen from the Ritz in Paris
So here I am, Ive finally gained my independence with Father paying my rent and maid service everyday and my arduous responsibilities of sounding smart at cocktail parties, getting photographed and meeting a gentlemen of suitable socioeconomic class.
Living alone is not all it is cracked up to be, as truth be told, I really do miss my maid.
Here is what is in my new pied a terre thus far
knives
cocaine
long mirror to douse myself in olive oil
telescope to spy on neighbors
bathroom stolen from the Ritz in Paris
Saturday, November 12, 2011
I cant with
tap water
rich liberals
shrinks that dont prescribe
rim jobs
domestic travel
staff without accents
drivers that make conversation
boys that dont call after you casually stalked them
restaurants that dont have tuna tartare
people who dont order appitizers or sides
boys that do cocaine at night
places that dont take amex
people that dont pay cabs or offer to pick me up with their driver
moms who pretend they work
unflat tax rates
the Bush twins
Plan B
painful fingering
unreliable drug dealers and narrators
constipation
Louis Vuitton
sex without dinner being paid for
rich liberals
shrinks that dont prescribe
rim jobs
domestic travel
staff without accents
drivers that make conversation
boys that dont call after you casually stalked them
restaurants that dont have tuna tartare
people who dont order appitizers or sides
boys that do cocaine at night
places that dont take amex
people that dont pay cabs or offer to pick me up with their driver
moms who pretend they work
unflat tax rates
the Bush twins
Plan B
painful fingering
unreliable drug dealers and narrators
constipation
Louis Vuitton
sex without dinner being paid for
My Birthday- Im Jumping out of a cake and taking you with me
I am cuming up to a rather exciting age, my contemporaries around me are fearful that their youth is passing them by too quickly, which is just a sad excuse of saying they didnt have enough fun and are scared it is no longer acceptable to which is ludicras sauteed in the fact their parents no longer give them money to go to Bergdorfs every saturday followed by an anal deep tissue.
I, at the risk of sounding like a 45 year old botoxed woman in the midst of a mid life crisis with a fake interior design career and step kids in therapy, " am just getting started," and another birthday, means yet again another day to be all about me, which lets face it is a bit frightening.
What is me? The Glittertheripast. Twisted. Manic. Rude. Veuve. Euro. Not the people, the bills, as American dollars are trashy and do not allow for cocaine consumption as properly.
My life is the combination between phenom and terrifying.
I have no life skills to speak of except for my conversational arabic, my swift approval of my credit card bill, and my half decent attempt to make friends with people in my socioeconomic bracket. I tend to fall below my Hermes belt as I relate more to the common man's daily struggles to make something of oneself. I am however, very nice and have no problem blowing bouncers to get a table.
Birthday, another year of celebrating that my path to slow suicide has not yet worked. I go through a daily struggle of feeling fabulous and wanting to kill myself, so I assume my death will be on a crystal meth binge wearing Van Cleef and Versace (H and M) off the coast of my Grandad's I joke. my dad's yacht #newmoney.
I absolutely love my birthday because I plan for each year's in advance. because the typical social climbing herve lever wearing whore bore complains that birthday's like new years never live up to one's expectations-
I have already booked La Mamounia in Morocco for my 35th for 10 of my closest nearest and dearest, and this list includes at least 3 C list Celebs, so if you believe you are included,I suggest you either start booking some studio projects with a post 10 milly budget or start being nicer to me and paying for cabs if you assume you are on this list.
I am not a bitch I just really want to get laid, so if you are not fun and are not a good wing woman and do not help me get photographed than you best be on your way and book something else for Christmas 2020.
And as for New Years, I always spend it on white sand beaches with veuve in my hand and a cigar in the other dancing to a cracked out reggae band dry humping a black waiter with homegrown marijuana crying. and the meal is spent with the CEO of BlackROCK, ATandT, Campbell's soup and LVMH combined, so New Years neverlivesuptomyexpectationsmyvagina.
Whilst I spent my 19th birthday with male strippers, my 21 birthday in a stranger's Hotel Room at the GeorgeSanc, my 5th Birthday at Daniel complete with chocolate fudge cake and my theripast, my 14th birthday at Susan Cimenelli spa with 4 girls who have all separately been to rehab or on page 6 at one time or another and are rawther embaressing inclusions to society.
All I know is, this year, I may pass out on my canopy with my standard poodles, veuve vogue cigs, and my new boyfriend, a low tier art dealer on the black market with specialties in large intestines and ball sacks, but more likely than not Ill see you at the St. Regis.
xoxo
If you need to know what I want for my birthday, you clearly do not read this blog. In case you are new, I like brand name xanax, foreign affairs mag, diamond encrusted things, passports, expensive porn, dolphins, orbit gum, street cred, shirts that say racist things, magic wands, splenda, Ghandi quotes, anti semitic memorabilia, Nancy Reagan paraphnalia, miles, and gift certificates to Dolce and Gabbanna and Dean and Deluca.
I, at the risk of sounding like a 45 year old botoxed woman in the midst of a mid life crisis with a fake interior design career and step kids in therapy, " am just getting started," and another birthday, means yet again another day to be all about me, which lets face it is a bit frightening.
What is me? The Glittertheripast. Twisted. Manic. Rude. Veuve. Euro. Not the people, the bills, as American dollars are trashy and do not allow for cocaine consumption as properly.
My life is the combination between phenom and terrifying.
I have no life skills to speak of except for my conversational arabic, my swift approval of my credit card bill, and my half decent attempt to make friends with people in my socioeconomic bracket. I tend to fall below my Hermes belt as I relate more to the common man's daily struggles to make something of oneself. I am however, very nice and have no problem blowing bouncers to get a table.
Birthday, another year of celebrating that my path to slow suicide has not yet worked. I go through a daily struggle of feeling fabulous and wanting to kill myself, so I assume my death will be on a crystal meth binge wearing Van Cleef and Versace (H and M) off the coast of my Grandad's I joke. my dad's yacht #newmoney.
I absolutely love my birthday because I plan for each year's in advance. because the typical social climbing herve lever wearing whore bore complains that birthday's like new years never live up to one's expectations-
I have already booked La Mamounia in Morocco for my 35th for 10 of my closest nearest and dearest, and this list includes at least 3 C list Celebs, so if you believe you are included,I suggest you either start booking some studio projects with a post 10 milly budget or start being nicer to me and paying for cabs if you assume you are on this list.
I am not a bitch I just really want to get laid, so if you are not fun and are not a good wing woman and do not help me get photographed than you best be on your way and book something else for Christmas 2020.
And as for New Years, I always spend it on white sand beaches with veuve in my hand and a cigar in the other dancing to a cracked out reggae band dry humping a black waiter with homegrown marijuana crying. and the meal is spent with the CEO of BlackROCK, ATandT, Campbell's soup and LVMH combined, so New Years neverlivesuptomyexpectationsmyvagina.
Whilst I spent my 19th birthday with male strippers, my 21 birthday in a stranger's Hotel Room at the GeorgeSanc, my 5th Birthday at Daniel complete with chocolate fudge cake and my theripast, my 14th birthday at Susan Cimenelli spa with 4 girls who have all separately been to rehab or on page 6 at one time or another and are rawther embaressing inclusions to society.
All I know is, this year, I may pass out on my canopy with my standard poodles, veuve vogue cigs, and my new boyfriend, a low tier art dealer on the black market with specialties in large intestines and ball sacks, but more likely than not Ill see you at the St. Regis.
xoxo
If you need to know what I want for my birthday, you clearly do not read this blog. In case you are new, I like brand name xanax, foreign affairs mag, diamond encrusted things, passports, expensive porn, dolphins, orbit gum, street cred, shirts that say racist things, magic wands, splenda, Ghandi quotes, anti semitic memorabilia, Nancy Reagan paraphnalia, miles, and gift certificates to Dolce and Gabbanna and Dean and Deluca.
Notes to the maid
I am not good at cutting apples. I left an apple out for the maid and wrote a note that said "please cut"
The subtle enthusiastic ability to send a text message to get sex
Sexting- a form of communicating sex through your phone, something I have asked everyone from my italian godfather to my jamaican maid ways to properly communicate my feelings to men of proper dating stature, where I can still maintain my dignitity as what usher calls "a lady in the street but a freak in the bed" or in our case, the phone.
The message is unclear, as women should not start, it looks dirty, unprofessional, unkept and impurely bred. Starting off with Im sooo drunk, is a great place to start, as that shows the man you are in a vulnerable place lost about your bearings, location and balance.
Gage where the response is from there, if there is a response that comes with a question such as O yea? Where? But if you get a Haha me too, I suggest you turn off your phone and throw it in the East River.
The message is unclear, as women should not start, it looks dirty, unprofessional, unkept and impurely bred. Starting off with Im sooo drunk, is a great place to start, as that shows the man you are in a vulnerable place lost about your bearings, location and balance.
Gage where the response is from there, if there is a response that comes with a question such as O yea? Where? But if you get a Haha me too, I suggest you turn off your phone and throw it in the East River.
Working Opening Paragraph of my Memoir
I often went to Harry Cipprianni's in my pjamas as in New York City during the height of the technology twitter boom and xanax, and where living off your 1980's Wall Street parents success was chic, everywhere was casual, and if you were skinny and rich you could show up anywhere in a t shirt with a vintage band and an indifferent attitude.
My memoir is nothing short of a wrist slitting finger banging pill popping cocaine snorting social climbing exploration of growing up perfectly priviledged yet morally fucked up purely by own doing. What is different about me from your typical bulimic manic alcholic unable to orgasm judgemental sociopathic mess, is that I was always perceptive, intuitive, and a good friend, daughter, sister, to the best of my abilities.
I turned out ok as no one is dead on my account that I know of, and I do not fund any terrorist organizations-anymore and to me those are signs of a seemingly successful existence.
All this initial conversation about money reveals my jewish persuasion which you will soon find ironic as I eventually married a waspy vicodin addict who at best didnt know hebrew and at worst was a light anti semite. I am jewish in the way that I am positively obsessed with money and everyone else's personal spending habits and judge other's character based on their classification of old money-classic new money- drastic and no money-tragic.
I am not jewish in the sense that I do not find it my life's purpose to make everyone aware of the dread of the holocaust or think that I am better than other's because somewhere it says that we are chosen. In fact, I much prefer Budhists, Yogi's and Atheists and hard core Presbeterians who see the spirituality and excitement of love, laughter, life, the present moment and getting high.
I would have to say my religious values are based on good literature, family loyalty, excellent clothing and booze in one's home, and my house of worship is First Republic Bank.
The story begins where most good ones begin, at the cemetery picking out coffins for my father, who frequently told my brother and sister and I, that once he is no longer able to play tennis and properly enjoy the opera, he wants to be smothered immediately. Interesting, how smother, soon became my "safe word" not too much later.
My memoir is nothing short of a wrist slitting finger banging pill popping cocaine snorting social climbing exploration of growing up perfectly priviledged yet morally fucked up purely by own doing. What is different about me from your typical bulimic manic alcholic unable to orgasm judgemental sociopathic mess, is that I was always perceptive, intuitive, and a good friend, daughter, sister, to the best of my abilities.
I turned out ok as no one is dead on my account that I know of, and I do not fund any terrorist organizations-anymore and to me those are signs of a seemingly successful existence.
All this initial conversation about money reveals my jewish persuasion which you will soon find ironic as I eventually married a waspy vicodin addict who at best didnt know hebrew and at worst was a light anti semite. I am jewish in the way that I am positively obsessed with money and everyone else's personal spending habits and judge other's character based on their classification of old money-classic new money- drastic and no money-tragic.
I am not jewish in the sense that I do not find it my life's purpose to make everyone aware of the dread of the holocaust or think that I am better than other's because somewhere it says that we are chosen. In fact, I much prefer Budhists, Yogi's and Atheists and hard core Presbeterians who see the spirituality and excitement of love, laughter, life, the present moment and getting high.
I would have to say my religious values are based on good literature, family loyalty, excellent clothing and booze in one's home, and my house of worship is First Republic Bank.
The story begins where most good ones begin, at the cemetery picking out coffins for my father, who frequently told my brother and sister and I, that once he is no longer able to play tennis and properly enjoy the opera, he wants to be smothered immediately. Interesting, how smother, soon became my "safe word" not too much later.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
playlist that goes great with a joint and a xanax
Wonderwall- straight no chaser
Remix to Ignition -R.Kelly
He wasnt Man enough enough for me-Toni Braxton
Searchin My soul- theme from Ally McBeal
Waiting for a Girl Like you -Glee Cast
ITs Alright-Joe Cocker
Please Dont Go-Mike Posner
Nice N Slow- Usher
You're Still the One- Shania Twain
That whack song that Marissa Cooper overdoses to in the O.C going under by the Rockers
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oHX_wMOvYHA
Remix to Ignition -R.Kelly
He wasnt Man enough enough for me-Toni Braxton
Searchin My soul- theme from Ally McBeal
Waiting for a Girl Like you -Glee Cast
ITs Alright-Joe Cocker
Please Dont Go-Mike Posner
Nice N Slow- Usher
You're Still the One- Shania Twain
That whack song that Marissa Cooper overdoses to in the O.C going under by the Rockers
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oHX_wMOvYHA
I travel with my sisters dead cats ashes so I dont get frisked at security
Most of my life is spent in airport security since I am such a frequent flier proven by all my frequent flier miles. There is nothing richer and more sophisticated sounding than tweeting about all of your travel dilemmas and the douchier sounding, the more impressive. And On a side note, Nelly's "Dilemma" is making a strong comeback in the club and in my bedroom soundtrack for giving great head.
Mother, a newly Arabian heiress has some phenom examples such as, this first class lounge at Delta has the most horrific cracker choices F.M.L
Nevertheless, tweetpics like those above get you at least 200 followers and make many lesser fatter poorer people on twitter retweet and write back in affirmative agreements and hashtags that are reminiscent of #wishIhadyourlife.
Part of being a social climbing socialite is being always out of town and having a boyfriend in many an impressive city from Santa Fe to Sabia. This accomplishes good sex without having to deal with being together for too long for him to realize you are a complete psychotic manic alcoholic cunt that is made up for with strong family values and a sunny disposition.
I love the stress in traveling, it brings out the best in me as I frequently strike up conversations with the people sitting next to me in first class who have no choice but to listen to my tales of suffering as a Park Avenue Heiress with manic multiple personality disorder and inaproppe cocktail party topics whilst trying to marry into an impressive family with tennis background and no history of abstaining from alcohol or god.
Christian Drunks are marriage material. Sadly my new stranger friends are usually not amused and double their dose of ambien without sharing. Rude. Shows signs of impure white breeding which leads me to the conclusion that they won this first class ticket as a prize sweepstake in last Month's Men's Health.
Mother, a newly Arabian heiress has some phenom examples such as, this first class lounge at Delta has the most horrific cracker choices F.M.L
Nevertheless, tweetpics like those above get you at least 200 followers and make many lesser fatter poorer people on twitter retweet and write back in affirmative agreements and hashtags that are reminiscent of #wishIhadyourlife.
Part of being a social climbing socialite is being always out of town and having a boyfriend in many an impressive city from Santa Fe to Sabia. This accomplishes good sex without having to deal with being together for too long for him to realize you are a complete psychotic manic alcoholic cunt that is made up for with strong family values and a sunny disposition.
I love the stress in traveling, it brings out the best in me as I frequently strike up conversations with the people sitting next to me in first class who have no choice but to listen to my tales of suffering as a Park Avenue Heiress with manic multiple personality disorder and inaproppe cocktail party topics whilst trying to marry into an impressive family with tennis background and no history of abstaining from alcohol or god.
Christian Drunks are marriage material. Sadly my new stranger friends are usually not amused and double their dose of ambien without sharing. Rude. Shows signs of impure white breeding which leads me to the conclusion that they won this first class ticket as a prize sweepstake in last Month's Men's Health.
I douche with Veuve Clicquot and other confessions
I cant remember the last time I didn't have a staff member help me shower
My dogs leashes cost more than my suntan lotion
I masturbate to Worth Magazine and Conde Nast Traveller
I would most definitely go down on each and every one of my family members grandparents included for 10 million dollars
I have broken into Lauderee both in New York and Paris because I really hate lines
I have stolen money from my latin tutor for drugs only to pay him back before he noticed
I truly madly whole heartedly wish that all the girls that were mean to me in high school get bashed in the face by a school bus along with their hampton homes going into foreclosure
I made out with a 10th grader but he paid for drinks and his parents are art dealers
I am on a quest to take one penny out of every account of first republic bank
I ate 17 ounces of caviar
I douche with Veuve Cliquot
My dogs leashes cost more than my suntan lotion
I masturbate to Worth Magazine and Conde Nast Traveller
I would most definitely go down on each and every one of my family members grandparents included for 10 million dollars
I have broken into Lauderee both in New York and Paris because I really hate lines
I have stolen money from my latin tutor for drugs only to pay him back before he noticed
I truly madly whole heartedly wish that all the girls that were mean to me in high school get bashed in the face by a school bus along with their hampton homes going into foreclosure
I made out with a 10th grader but he paid for drinks and his parents are art dealers
I am on a quest to take one penny out of every account of first republic bank
I ate 17 ounces of caviar
I douche with Veuve Cliquot
food for thought makes no sense as we are all trying to stop eating
As I sit on the canopy balcony of my pied a terre reflecting on all of my pain and suffering I realized that I often drunkenly offer people jobs and tell them that I know a great guy for them when in fact I only know my pot dealer and my father's peurto rican errand boys.
I stroked my standard poodle and decided that tonight was as good a night as any to take my driver and rich girlfriends downtown to do drugs and judge our contemporary's careers and life choices and value their worthwhile-ness and success in society based on their careers.
When I spotted a European looking white person I decided that he was hot enough to finger me and his culture and accent made up for the fact that he was not on the Forbes list and the only english he knew was "ur pussy ees a soo tight", a compliment I am often awarded with, and hopefully eventually on the same night that I get my Lilly Pulitzer Prize for Peace in the Rich part of the Middle East.
Food For thought. Stop Eating.
See you at the St. Regis.
I stroked my standard poodle and decided that tonight was as good a night as any to take my driver and rich girlfriends downtown to do drugs and judge our contemporary's careers and life choices and value their worthwhile-ness and success in society based on their careers.
When I spotted a European looking white person I decided that he was hot enough to finger me and his culture and accent made up for the fact that he was not on the Forbes list and the only english he knew was "ur pussy ees a soo tight", a compliment I am often awarded with, and hopefully eventually on the same night that I get my Lilly Pulitzer Prize for Peace in the Rich part of the Middle East.
Food For thought. Stop Eating.
See you at the St. Regis.
" I dont want a girlfriend that does drugs"
Thats Ok, I dont want a boyfriend who has an asian fetish sauteed in a middle class tax bracket with semi homosexual tendencies underscored with penis dysfunction and frat bro for life syndrome.
Sunday, November 6, 2011
O You So you Interned at J.P Morgan? Cool, the CEO of BlackRock taught me how to Waterski
Allow me to Chronicle the weekend events that have occured.
Good Hell, the current upper middle class matriculation of this generation is embarassing of what is considered high class behavior in da club. I am shocked, disgusted, appalled, and outrage essentially by everyone who is not a rockefeller or has several homes in Europe and Hawaii. Otherwise You best be on your way.
Men's typical opening line whilst seeking fellatio is to not so subtlely namedrop a bank that they work (intern for).
Bragging about internships at finance firms in an attempt for drunk sex is ridiculous as the CEO of BlackRock taught me how to waterski whilst in his speedo of the coast of the Mediterranean in Antigua when I was 8 and we remain on close terms and interpret this as you see fit as I had a dank bod in the 90's.
And then the women. I already knew you were trashy when you were raised outside a cosmopolitan city and went to a 3rd tier boarding school, followed by a lesbian arts university, but then you had to further prove your boring personality and even more painful existence by ordering bottom shelf liquor vodka pronounced "vah ka" and sugar free redbull whilst loudly discussing how totally awesome your Job in Fashion PR is sauteed in attempting to eye fuck every guy who orders a patron shot with a black card. You have no shame no subtlety and no business in my presence unless you bring me a present.
.
Having said all this, I decided to reach into my deep dark hidden roots of my hood identity and attended a party in the Projects but it was classy as it was Notorious BiG's childhood home or at least thats what I told myself.
I needed an escape from all the social climbing wannabe socialites as I am starting to realize that wearing Manolo's and Mother's Yves Saint Laurent, only makes me look like an asshole if I dont relish in the fabulousness of it and not think that I am better than those lower dressed and in lower income. But lets face it I do. Designer clothes is a symbol of upbringing that your parents have invested enough money in you looking rich while you blackout and dry hump.
I decided to venture down to a party in the ghetto where the vodka is warm and the people are dark, than you will have no frame of reference of people from all walks of life.
I love the walks of life as long as my driver takes me home and I get to keep the guns I find and diamonddazzle my du rag.
Good Hell, the current upper middle class matriculation of this generation is embarassing of what is considered high class behavior in da club. I am shocked, disgusted, appalled, and outrage essentially by everyone who is not a rockefeller or has several homes in Europe and Hawaii. Otherwise You best be on your way.
Men's typical opening line whilst seeking fellatio is to not so subtlely namedrop a bank that they work (intern for).
Bragging about internships at finance firms in an attempt for drunk sex is ridiculous as the CEO of BlackRock taught me how to waterski whilst in his speedo of the coast of the Mediterranean in Antigua when I was 8 and we remain on close terms and interpret this as you see fit as I had a dank bod in the 90's.
And then the women. I already knew you were trashy when you were raised outside a cosmopolitan city and went to a 3rd tier boarding school, followed by a lesbian arts university, but then you had to further prove your boring personality and even more painful existence by ordering bottom shelf liquor vodka pronounced "vah ka" and sugar free redbull whilst loudly discussing how totally awesome your Job in Fashion PR is sauteed in attempting to eye fuck every guy who orders a patron shot with a black card. You have no shame no subtlety and no business in my presence unless you bring me a present.
.
Having said all this, I decided to reach into my deep dark hidden roots of my hood identity and attended a party in the Projects but it was classy as it was Notorious BiG's childhood home or at least thats what I told myself.
I needed an escape from all the social climbing wannabe socialites as I am starting to realize that wearing Manolo's and Mother's Yves Saint Laurent, only makes me look like an asshole if I dont relish in the fabulousness of it and not think that I am better than those lower dressed and in lower income. But lets face it I do. Designer clothes is a symbol of upbringing that your parents have invested enough money in you looking rich while you blackout and dry hump.
I decided to venture down to a party in the ghetto where the vodka is warm and the people are dark, than you will have no frame of reference of people from all walks of life.
I love the walks of life as long as my driver takes me home and I get to keep the guns I find and diamonddazzle my du rag.
Friday, November 4, 2011
The Friendship of Men and Women is as Asinine as Sex Offenders at a 25,000 a semester elite Pree school
This argument that men and women are friends not only wrong, it is perhaps more irrationally irritating and induces more powerful skinny cigarette cravings. It is so powerfully obvious that men and women aren't friends it is almost as ridiculous as these so positively affirmative questions like
Are poor people misguided?
Is one mentally clinically retarded if they vote for Obama or read the Huffington Post ?
Did the Jews kill Jesus?
Were NATO and the UN obsolete after WWII?
Was going into Iraq justified?
Are couples that didnt hire a professional to make their sex tape unclear of how to properly manage their finances?
Will Black kids always blame white kids?
Is Saks Fifth Avenue Middle Class?
Is bragging about your ski "holiday" to Utah where you didnt stay at the Stein Erikson bougie?
Will Valium and Van Cleef make your problems significantly easier?
Le Fucking Duh
I stand crystal meth clear that men and women can never -will never- be ever just friends and here's why. First of all lets state the facts, there is no such things as just friends in general. I use most of my inner circle to get me into parties where I can be photographed and meet a waspy coked out Sigma Chi and Secret Society Founders.
But men women arent friends because of the temptation of Sex.
Unless you are gay, fat, ugly, poor, liberal, or can speak only one language which is slick lazy and indicative of bad character then this does not apply. Or if you are of opposing race and even the sneaky race card treads an enviable starving child thin line as I have been known to cheat on many with Sean Combs.
The reason for inability of friendship is temptation, curiosity, and the possibility of exploring What if we touched each-other? You can pretend as long as you want, but one member of the friendship is silently getting blue balls that will cause him to end up in a Middle Class Emergency Room.
I know from personal experience as I have asked each and every one of my guy friends to stick their hands down my moms prada pants purely because none of my deep dark desires goes un MANifested.
Psychological issues? Naturally, but I am obsessed with the unexplored and I guarantee that he or she is too.
I know so many couples who have friends of the opposite sex and it always 100% most of the time ends badly.
So my dearest and nearest inner circle members, if you are not dating someone I encourage you to explore sticking the hands of your friends down your designer pants and see what comes of it.
If it does not work out there was very little point to the relationship anyway unless the other was picking up the Tab at the Four Seasons.
If you ARE dating someone, first of all I commend you for taking time out of your day for someone other than yourself, something I will never do unless I have to walk my dogs in my Louboutins with my Shri Lankan Doorman at my side to ensure that I am not photographed in my pjamas and heels,
then I sexually urge you to think cautiously about your opposite sex friends and wonder the trouble that they are causing to your relationship.
If the significant other has opposite sex "Friends",
Then I am more serious than a hooker who needs crack, hire a PI.
Find out their life story, their goals their intentions, their birth control, their drug habits, their drink of choice, their weakness for Marlboro's and skank weed, what word they cheated on in 4th grade, what porn they masturbate to, and where they get their nails done and how much they tip bartenders, these are all indicative of the 'friend" intentions and by all means necessary treat her like she's an effing sister wife.
Take her to foreign movies, read her your memoirs, take naked saunas together to check out the competition, as Kathryn from the critically acclaimed arguably best film for the self medicated park avenue troubled heir to the normal wall street baby boomer fortune generation" keep your friends close and enemies closer"
Listen to this coked out bitch, anyone who gets Ryan Phillippe to wager a 1976 mustang for anal sex (r.e "you can put it anywhere") 29 min into the film is a classified unappreciated genius.
Men and Women can never be friends. Enjoy the background checks, they are some of my favorite pastimes.
Stay Rich. Stay Medicated.
Are poor people misguided?
Is one mentally clinically retarded if they vote for Obama or read the Huffington Post ?
Did the Jews kill Jesus?
Were NATO and the UN obsolete after WWII?
Was going into Iraq justified?
Are couples that didnt hire a professional to make their sex tape unclear of how to properly manage their finances?
Will Black kids always blame white kids?
Is Saks Fifth Avenue Middle Class?
Is bragging about your ski "holiday" to Utah where you didnt stay at the Stein Erikson bougie?
Will Valium and Van Cleef make your problems significantly easier?
Le Fucking Duh
I stand crystal meth clear that men and women can never -will never- be ever just friends and here's why. First of all lets state the facts, there is no such things as just friends in general. I use most of my inner circle to get me into parties where I can be photographed and meet a waspy coked out Sigma Chi and Secret Society Founders.
But men women arent friends because of the temptation of Sex.
Unless you are gay, fat, ugly, poor, liberal, or can speak only one language which is slick lazy and indicative of bad character then this does not apply. Or if you are of opposing race and even the sneaky race card treads an enviable starving child thin line as I have been known to cheat on many with Sean Combs.
The reason for inability of friendship is temptation, curiosity, and the possibility of exploring What if we touched each-other? You can pretend as long as you want, but one member of the friendship is silently getting blue balls that will cause him to end up in a Middle Class Emergency Room.
I know from personal experience as I have asked each and every one of my guy friends to stick their hands down my moms prada pants purely because none of my deep dark desires goes un MANifested.
Psychological issues? Naturally, but I am obsessed with the unexplored and I guarantee that he or she is too.
I know so many couples who have friends of the opposite sex and it always 100% most of the time ends badly.
So my dearest and nearest inner circle members, if you are not dating someone I encourage you to explore sticking the hands of your friends down your designer pants and see what comes of it.
If it does not work out there was very little point to the relationship anyway unless the other was picking up the Tab at the Four Seasons.
If you ARE dating someone, first of all I commend you for taking time out of your day for someone other than yourself, something I will never do unless I have to walk my dogs in my Louboutins with my Shri Lankan Doorman at my side to ensure that I am not photographed in my pjamas and heels,
then I sexually urge you to think cautiously about your opposite sex friends and wonder the trouble that they are causing to your relationship.
If the significant other has opposite sex "Friends",
Then I am more serious than a hooker who needs crack, hire a PI.
Find out their life story, their goals their intentions, their birth control, their drug habits, their drink of choice, their weakness for Marlboro's and skank weed, what word they cheated on in 4th grade, what porn they masturbate to, and where they get their nails done and how much they tip bartenders, these are all indicative of the 'friend" intentions and by all means necessary treat her like she's an effing sister wife.
Take her to foreign movies, read her your memoirs, take naked saunas together to check out the competition, as Kathryn from the critically acclaimed arguably best film for the self medicated park avenue troubled heir to the normal wall street baby boomer fortune generation" keep your friends close and enemies closer"
Listen to this coked out bitch, anyone who gets Ryan Phillippe to wager a 1976 mustang for anal sex (r.e "you can put it anywhere") 29 min into the film is a classified unappreciated genius.
Men and Women can never be friends. Enjoy the background checks, they are some of my favorite pastimes.
Stay Rich. Stay Medicated.
Brazilian Waxes and Sexting Welcome to Sex Generation Rich and Bored
I am lazy, bored, racist, and to those who dont know me. Manically threatening. Most do not leave a meeting with me and say " I totally get that girl" and thats truly acceptable and understandable. Most of what I say are lies and my multiple personalities often confuse me of what I know is real to what I know is a trip. However, as bi polar, inconsistent, rude, filterless, and morally bankrupt yet tangibly the opposite, I am a great friend to those who are rich and skinny and tell a phenom story over veuve and dissolved xanax.
What started out as a relaxing day at Staples which prequeled my therapy session and karatay class, ended up with me hitting on a former employee of fathers who I learned within 5 minutes was now sober. My specialty. It was one of my greatest gifts to turn the sober to the non sober, sort of like turning those that dont value pseudo intellectualism and xanax to care greatly after an afternoon manicure with me.
After a few shots and a few puffs of my homemade crack in my pied a terre in the West Village, the next thing I knew we were deep in Williamsburg in an apartment of Lesbians and I had non induced scars on my legs and Fathers former employee had a nasty gash. I realized that not only had a not shaved but I certainly had not played hard to get.
It seems if I want an unclear alcoholic with wall street money and questionable morals and divorced parents (as that is better sex, something to do with mommy issues), I really needed to not suggest shots and crack upon first meeting.
What started out as a relaxing day at Staples which prequeled my therapy session and karatay class, ended up with me hitting on a former employee of fathers who I learned within 5 minutes was now sober. My specialty. It was one of my greatest gifts to turn the sober to the non sober, sort of like turning those that dont value pseudo intellectualism and xanax to care greatly after an afternoon manicure with me.
After a few shots and a few puffs of my homemade crack in my pied a terre in the West Village, the next thing I knew we were deep in Williamsburg in an apartment of Lesbians and I had non induced scars on my legs and Fathers former employee had a nasty gash. I realized that not only had a not shaved but I certainly had not played hard to get.
It seems if I want an unclear alcoholic with wall street money and questionable morals and divorced parents (as that is better sex, something to do with mommy issues), I really needed to not suggest shots and crack upon first meeting.
60 dollar manicures and 25 dollar glasses of Veuve: Confessions of a klonopin dependant uppereastsider
Whilst many believe that money is not the answer to happiness and self fulfillment, a wise attractive wealthy gay of mine told me that we would rather be crying in persian silks in the back of the rolls royce than singing GAGA on our stolen bikes.
The notion that money buys happiness always in my lawsuit case, is not new to glittertherapy but I only want to further hone it in, as I see a life where going to the theatre followed by a 200 dollar bottle of wine where the maitre D treats you like head mafia and would most likely kill anyone who crossed your path is something that I would not trade for a happy family in a toyota sauteed in public school education and holidays at Club Med and fancy dinners at the Cheesecake factory sans housekeeper and hypnotist.
The creme de la creme do make one point of minor validity. The private school world is full of pressure if you are not skinnyand not on the boards of Charities and are not often photographed and do not have a boyfriend that went to a pseudo Ivy Leage or is Jewish.
Your parents gave you money and freedom to become a controlled alcoholic contributing member of society who produces likeminded attractive offspring with someone who as equal if not more trustfund money.
My solution to this is to escape the bubble by floating from crew to crew depending on what mood stabilizers I am on until I have my own television show where rumours of my past as an escort and foot fetish model begin to permeate page 6 only to have them squashed by Tommy my lawyer slash booty call.
But until then I will indulge my contemporaries problems of unreliable therapists, incompetent dog walkers, and poorly cut cocaine, because lets face it these issues do stand in the way of important meetings with investors who want to give you money to your fake public relations company you are developing.
How I see it is that pain whether it is familial, in relationships or within yourself exists whether or not you have money.
but that does not mean that my inner circle within the upper east side and those with titanium Cards in Europe and L.A do not have their fair share of deep dark mental insanity.
It is only the fact that money provides the distraction avoid the issue that your husband is actually gay or your child has a serious drug problem, but honestly, is that really keeping you from having fun at parties and having fun with good friends?
Whilst purusing thru the corner book store looking for a coffee table book that conveys the notion that I am classy come from a good family yet give really good head if you give me some ice cubes and the hookers manual, I saw a book about the cost of elitism. This really grinded my vagina, as spoiled rich kids who are given materials instead of love need to take that up with their therapist and their driver and stronger medication.
I do not really care if you have a father who sleeps with hookers or a mother who wakes up to Gin and klonopin only to leave you untrusting of positive relationships and healthy homes. In fact, one should use this quality material to create great art and not for cocktail party conversation, something that I am slowly learning.
The why the argument of the upper creme da la creme manhattan society is bulimia inducing because of the alternative lifestyle listed above with used cars and hotels without bathrobes and debit cards and lettered subway stops.
I am confused where the money doesnt buy happiness argument comes into play when you have a horse a home in West Hampton (even though thats the ghetto ist of the Hamptons), are a renounced floutist and do not know what mortgage and student loans mean. Yes, my upper creme da la creme inner circle suffers from manic alcoholism and lack of clarity of healthy relationships, but this hardly warrants any hardship of life complaints.
Yes, We want to avoid being our mothers but keep their wardrobe and their prescriptions and their husbands money and their ability to produce brilliant offspring, but permanently delete everything else
Whilst money does buy happiness being a well medicated top shelf drinking herve leger wearing chanel carrying never without titantium does leave room for personal fears and discouraging moments in life but that is no excuse for spoiled rude and unappreciative behavior. Spoiled is very 80s. This is a new generation take your pain out on your sex life and your credit card and call me after the new Manolo sale and let me know how your problems are. See you in Gusstaad this Christmas or excuse me "hannukah".
XO$XO$
The notion that money buys happiness always in my lawsuit case, is not new to glittertherapy but I only want to further hone it in, as I see a life where going to the theatre followed by a 200 dollar bottle of wine where the maitre D treats you like head mafia and would most likely kill anyone who crossed your path is something that I would not trade for a happy family in a toyota sauteed in public school education and holidays at Club Med and fancy dinners at the Cheesecake factory sans housekeeper and hypnotist.
The creme de la creme do make one point of minor validity. The private school world is full of pressure if you are not skinnyand not on the boards of Charities and are not often photographed and do not have a boyfriend that went to a pseudo Ivy Leage or is Jewish.
Your parents gave you money and freedom to become a controlled alcoholic contributing member of society who produces likeminded attractive offspring with someone who as equal if not more trustfund money.
My solution to this is to escape the bubble by floating from crew to crew depending on what mood stabilizers I am on until I have my own television show where rumours of my past as an escort and foot fetish model begin to permeate page 6 only to have them squashed by Tommy my lawyer slash booty call.
But until then I will indulge my contemporaries problems of unreliable therapists, incompetent dog walkers, and poorly cut cocaine, because lets face it these issues do stand in the way of important meetings with investors who want to give you money to your fake public relations company you are developing.
How I see it is that pain whether it is familial, in relationships or within yourself exists whether or not you have money.
but that does not mean that my inner circle within the upper east side and those with titanium Cards in Europe and L.A do not have their fair share of deep dark mental insanity.
It is only the fact that money provides the distraction avoid the issue that your husband is actually gay or your child has a serious drug problem, but honestly, is that really keeping you from having fun at parties and having fun with good friends?
Whilst purusing thru the corner book store looking for a coffee table book that conveys the notion that I am classy come from a good family yet give really good head if you give me some ice cubes and the hookers manual, I saw a book about the cost of elitism. This really grinded my vagina, as spoiled rich kids who are given materials instead of love need to take that up with their therapist and their driver and stronger medication.
I do not really care if you have a father who sleeps with hookers or a mother who wakes up to Gin and klonopin only to leave you untrusting of positive relationships and healthy homes. In fact, one should use this quality material to create great art and not for cocktail party conversation, something that I am slowly learning.
The why the argument of the upper creme da la creme manhattan society is bulimia inducing because of the alternative lifestyle listed above with used cars and hotels without bathrobes and debit cards and lettered subway stops.
I am confused where the money doesnt buy happiness argument comes into play when you have a horse a home in West Hampton (even though thats the ghetto ist of the Hamptons), are a renounced floutist and do not know what mortgage and student loans mean. Yes, my upper creme da la creme inner circle suffers from manic alcoholism and lack of clarity of healthy relationships, but this hardly warrants any hardship of life complaints.
Yes, We want to avoid being our mothers but keep their wardrobe and their prescriptions and their husbands money and their ability to produce brilliant offspring, but permanently delete everything else
Whilst money does buy happiness being a well medicated top shelf drinking herve leger wearing chanel carrying never without titantium does leave room for personal fears and discouraging moments in life but that is no excuse for spoiled rude and unappreciative behavior. Spoiled is very 80s. This is a new generation take your pain out on your sex life and your credit card and call me after the new Manolo sale and let me know how your problems are. See you in Gusstaad this Christmas or excuse me "hannukah".
XO$XO$
This may really bother you but I absolutely love
to make small talk on the street
to get in cars with drug dealers and exchange stories about each other's families
to talk about my mild crystal meth and heavy xanax usage in public
to ask you personal questions about your sex life
to text you with sexual conentation
to cite Ronald Reagan as the best President of the United States
to question the validity of tax brackets and welfare
to obviously not shower
to go thru your BBMs when you arent looking
to treat staff like staff who are also best friends
to invite you to my home for prosecco and head
to dirty dance with my cousins
to judge people who suggest that they cant taste the difference between Ketel one and bottom shelf
talking about my money and other people's money
to get in cars with drug dealers and exchange stories about each other's families
to talk about my mild crystal meth and heavy xanax usage in public
to ask you personal questions about your sex life
to text you with sexual conentation
to cite Ronald Reagan as the best President of the United States
to question the validity of tax brackets and welfare
to obviously not shower
to go thru your BBMs when you arent looking
to treat staff like staff who are also best friends
to invite you to my home for prosecco and head
to dirty dance with my cousins
to judge people who suggest that they cant taste the difference between Ketel one and bottom shelf
talking about my money and other people's money
November Objectives
color code and bedazzle my xanax
get finger banged by an ambassador of a developed country in the Russian Tea Room
write down a diabolical manipulative highly mathematical power point presentation to Father illustrating how me paying for any part of my rent for my pied a terre will drastically affect my mood swings and may cause me to marry an abusive husband not out of my own choice
find a drug dealer with a better looking car
have my photo taken in the electric Room that ends up in Vanity Fair instead of instaphoto
find better tasting laxatives
memorize one section of the Bible
develop strong cocktail party point soundbites
bleach my asshole
read three books in Russian in public
find Steve Jobs body and climb into his tomb and take photos with it
get more black rich friends
start dressing more "downtown"
finalize my lawsuit against my childhood theripast
get better ideas for chic places to get food.
get finger banged by an ambassador of a developed country in the Russian Tea Room
write down a diabolical manipulative highly mathematical power point presentation to Father illustrating how me paying for any part of my rent for my pied a terre will drastically affect my mood swings and may cause me to marry an abusive husband not out of my own choice
find a drug dealer with a better looking car
have my photo taken in the electric Room that ends up in Vanity Fair instead of instaphoto
find better tasting laxatives
memorize one section of the Bible
develop strong cocktail party point soundbites
bleach my asshole
read three books in Russian in public
find Steve Jobs body and climb into his tomb and take photos with it
get more black rich friends
start dressing more "downtown"
finalize my lawsuit against my childhood theripast
get better ideas for chic places to get food.
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