I cant find my therapist so I can pay someone to tell me Im pretty and will get married to a waspy alcoholic with mommy issues

K thanks

Holiday Activities - Ask me about my meth lab

Chainsmoking cigars in the jacuzzi with likeminded 60 year old investment bankers, blow jobs to 18 year olds who have come into their first half mill, making uncomfortable conversation about my lack employment because Im over it, grinding up on black waiters, asking people if they would be interested in smoking me up, masturbating with a tennis racket and putting it on youtube, making comparison excel charts of the divorced women to determine who is hot enough to fuck father and classy enough for step mother material.

The Carribbean Youth- Family Crests, Trust Funds Aplenty- down to get weird in Lily Pulitzer and why I will never be homeless in a 5 star Hotel

Upon my carribbean holiday, sister and I share a room with our British Red head model friend who prides herself on her rampant size zero bod, ability to drink 4 bottles of rosay at lunch, work in finance and make every boy between 5 and 55 fall absolutely smitten. After I tried to kill her and failed as she is immortal I realized that she was the best friend I could ever have even though she doesnt do drugs and is independently wealthy.

She has taken to snoring so incredibly loudly that even in my ambien Veuve clicquot spell replete with european porn and intense masturbation, I cannot fall asleep so I have to take up residency in one of my brother's girlfriends room.

I dont know her that well, but upon our first conversation she told me about her deferral from Yale and her father's immediate phone call on the board to get the deferral into an E.D 2 acceptance which I was more than amused by. I enjoy people that do not play off their family's connections because there is no reason to hide that you could have my ex boyfriend killed in a matter of hours since your uncle is in the mafia. We had a great talk, mostly about sex and how get boys with money and soon drifted off into a non snoreful bliss.

Dearest Brother, thanks again for your fanbase of women. I will never be homeless in a 5 star hotel.

Money Talks..Wealth Whispers

Alas, due to my mixed medications and 7 year old expired accutane, I have commissioned one of my dearest skinniest non white well dressed members of my inner circle to write a post for me about the atrocities outer family gatherings during the holidays - She has decided to accept payment in tuna tartare and blow.

The holidays are always a humbling experience for me and my fellow members of the bourgeoisie because its when you remember that dads cousin may or may not be in jail, that uncle has a fond affinity for toothpics, and that cousin vicky is most definitely hooked on the poor mans heroin aka oxycotin. Being bougie is hard because, well... I wasted my helmut lang and loubs on this dinner, as my extended family is just about as chic as a Discover credit card.

Chronicles of the healing family - Father dances with me to the crack head reggae music

I am in the Caribbean to heal. It has been a stressful quarter, what with not working, using my babysitting money for drugs, and learning new sex moves for my new white film maker boyfriend it is a good as time as any for some R and R (rape and roofies) and who better to indulge in this with me than my very own family poodles,  included.

It occurred to me that I needed to relax when I realized I started snorting my accutane and masturbating with my left hand. It was clear that my priorities and my head was somewhere else and I really needed to relax and spend time with family, my pinot, and brand name xambien.

All I can say is this, while the Carribbean culture values a laid back attitude coupled with a relaxed work environment and solid C minus marijuna, if you combine this with a resort full of old money waspy lily pultizer wearing bankers and housewives, one is sure to find the relaxation needed.

Carribbean Status Im taking 7 year old expired accutane and my skin has never looked better

Its that time of the year again, back in the Carribbean with water ski-ing rum punches and trust fund hook ups a plenty
Here's where most of us can be found
Mother- unclear
Sister- lifting, tanning, deciding between various waspy lovers, having rosay
Brother- relating to the locals, sleeping, suggesting abstract activities, commenting on the questionable behavior of other guests
Father- telling everyone he beat people at tennis 20 years younger than he, laps with his flippers, sit ups on the beach, gossiping at the bar over chamomile tea
me- corrupting the youth, trying to dog cocaine out of the lizards tongues, prank calling housekeeping, trying to get fingerbanged by likeminded rich artsy intellectuals who are looking to get married asap as possible

Facebook photos with poor kids

So many people have photos with poor kids in afric-rwand-somalia countries, I feel as though I should add some to complete my philanthropic socialite status complete.

Dinner with non white CEO

During a particularly painful evening with a  non white CEO family, the father proceeded to tell me that I needed to be married by the time I was 25, and furthermore if it was in women's biological nature to have children, than why on God's green earth would they ever bother to do anything else? I proceeded to tell him that if I was to be married by 25, then it would have to be to someone at least 60 who had children older than myself, and I am always down to be a mother to my contemporary Reagan Cocaine loving generation.
My response to women's sole biological duty to pro create and stay skinny, Women are the smartest most complicated most attractive creatures and it is our duty to not only produce the next wealthy anxiety laden attractive venture capitalists with nannies aplenty, but to also to simultaeously rule the world using the power of our psuedo ivy league education and ability to give great head.

Back in the Caribbean Sea

My Father, clearly very proud of my slutty existence of attempting to be in the creme da la creme social circles of New York have not pleased him, so he has taken it to the extreme, after he tells the guests of the resort that he has lost one and a half pounds and hasnt had a carb since 2007, he proceeds to tell them that I have been laid off cant drive and am still half a virgin.
How many days until I get my Trust Fund?

Abused by my trainer and my "boyfriend"

As a sadomasochistic vodka soda drinking pseudo party girl I cant decide which abuse I tolerate better, one from my trainer or from my boyfriend, and by boyfriend I mean the boy that texts me at 2 am asking me "Whats up beb?"

Now naturally I strive to have the body of Suri Cruise but I have the stamina of a 350 pound obese man, so when my trainer asked me to a sit up she leaves me no choice but to cry and tell her about the pain and suffering I have endured during my troubled youth on my penthouse in 5th Avenue

My boyfriend, who has never taken me to dinner, never called me first, and expects a blow job after picking up the tab provides me with the delusion that I am in a 21st century abusive relationship.

Which do I prefer? Both leave me feeling weak, depleted, worthless, and cause me to go on a self loathing self deprecating rant to my team and my friends, so for now my answer is unclear.

I cant make anyone angry for Fear they will subpoena my medical records in a court of law criminal justice system

Its numbingly obvious that I have had my fair share of mental instabilities, but that is all part of the wild ride that involves driving in the Benz with me and my latin driver.

It has come to my conclusion however that my secret stays at various mental institutions, places of rest for my questionable consumption of veuve and meth are subject to be subpoena-ed in court if someone decides to sue me and use my multiple personalities and raging manic slutty pill popping b list club hopping indescretions against me, when it is crucial that they stay between you and I and the Enquirer.

Ipso facto I cant steal anyone's ideas. Thank god the sex toys for rape victims and Jeweled Xanax are as authentic-ly yours truly as my love for money and other people's money.

Dahling its Simply my Kryptonite

Evian

CVS adderal shortage
un bedazzled vaginas
CNN
Marijuana dealers

Laundry Machine used for other purposes than sex
Long Island Accents

Legging and Ugg boot combo with a navy long champ swung over a sideswept pony tail shoulder who BBMs loudly chewing sweet mint and buys Camel Lights women who work in low tier fashion merchandising.

Birth Control other than Prayer

Cab Drivers who's credit machine causes near heart attack anxiety

Debit Cards
Bottom Shelf Liquor
Vagner Operas

Men Marry Bitches? What about Bi Polar Prudes with Minor Daddy and alcohol Issues and Sunny Dispositions?

I consider my personality a cross between Kim Richards on the real Housewives of her beverly Hills due to  her love of her family and her mixture of medications and Holden Caulfield, who needs little to no explanation unless you are poor.
So, its established that I am off my rocker, but I am certainly not a bitch as I always ask Maid how her day is.
My question is, I suppose that the way to an alcoholic trust fund baby low tier analyst's gin soaked membrane is by not responding to texts EVER and by talking to them like they are the janitors at Pink Elephant.

That goes against everything I was ever taught, but Im bored of my Van Cleef Vibrator.

Father likes to Mass Email the Family on updates of his mood considering the Obama-nation

Had lunch with the English divorced father and his 2 boys; talked sports/sex/politics--what guys like to discuss; good for my mood considering the markets

Sex or Money?

Money

We all secretly want to get married before each other's sorority sisters

I love my non sorority sisters when I take my mood stabilizers but more often than I care to admit, not so secretly wish that they choke on their vodka sodas, trip over their Alexander Wang asian boots and suffer from terrible internal bleeding and a nasty scar to the face.

Nothing is a funnier blow, other than actual blow than getting married first. It is painfully obvious that men who live in cosmometro cities dont want to get married until they are picking out their graves, as more money more bitches, (which I have as a poster in Arabic signed by Malaki himself)

So, my advice to those who want to get married before their sisters, is to marry someone 50 so you can be that hot 20 something but with an intellectual mind and a career of her own and be a phenom step mother and have someone constantly tell you how good you are in bed. 

Santa Baby, We need to talk

Its fairly predictable what I want for Christmas. I have been celebrating Christmas replete with the Pavoratti Soundtrack since my Brother's Bris, which I demanded I watch and have been a confused Jew ever since.

Santa Baby,  my definition of being an awfully good girl this year, like divorce papers are subject to interpretation how you see fit. Take it or leave it, I may have funded some questionably terrorist groups with money that people give me when I lend them my drugs and I may have gotten finger banged by a few unhappily married guys out of sheer curry osity and boredom, but ipso facto, Ive been good because Ive read to a few poor kids thrice weekly for 25 minutes and give my us weekly's to my maids.

Alas, My christmas list is very simple
1. a black husband
2. a subscription to the economist
3. A bible tutor
4. a date with Wiz Kalifa
5. a less tight vagina
6. better Nail Polish OPI choices
7. skittle flavored ambien
8. More money from open table after making reservations

Im the nicest girl you will meet and always invite you to my table but

I may borrow some pills from your medicine cabinet
read your bbms
drink all your diet coke and eat all your splenda packets
flirt with your boyfriend
quote from Shakespeare
ask you about your trust fund
grind up against you in the club
bleed all over your couch as I am cutting again
have makeup all over my face
blackout
judge you based on what family you come from
never invite you out if you do not send me a written thank you note or contribute to cabs
suggest to skip work and go out
influence you to drink a lot more and cheat on your spouse
But Im really nice, and will tell you you are pretty and will make you be in my profile picture.
You're my new best friend call me every 5 minutes.

Family Therapy is Whats your fantasy lUDiCrAs

Father and Mother have started enforcing weekly family therapy which is ludicras considering I have my own staff of 6, my hypnotist, my psychic, my psychomarmacologist, my gigalo, my maid and my champagne opener.

They believe that I have issues with authority and are concerned with my deplorable lack of interest in seeking any employment besides selling jewelry made out of medications or sex toys for rape victims, both of which they refuse to fund.

So I gave a whack at family therapy, because after careful research I found that the shrink wrote her thesis on Nazi women and their Elektra complexes and was skinnier than me.

I found it rawther glittertherapeutic as it gave my parents an ample opportunity to hear about my sex life and my daily struggles of being photographed by at least B list photographers and the difficulty I have in seeming intelligent and mysterious at cocktail parties instead of misguided and freakishly overwhelming. Some people love it, others pretend they need to vomit and excuse themselves. 

I look forward to next time Dr. Frau Elektra. 

Harvard Class of 2016 accepts zero students this year

Sadly, the acceptance rate has shot down like fireworks when they are finished, and there will be no matriculation of CEO's offspring, legacy's, 5 star athletes and your arbitrary asia-latino-pacific islander native on a quest to fling their intellectual curiosity on post modern chinese symmetry sauteed in histrionics of suicidal artists around Cambridge.
Best of Luck Next year soon to be slutty elitist wealthy anxiety laden pill popping skinny pseudo intellectual asian tutor carrying Calypso wearing can do know wrong because I am writing a modern take on Great Expectations, called Great Text pectations Freshman.
See you at the St. Regis. One of my Cousin's can get you an authentic ivy degree in exchange for the CEO of J.P Morgan's CumShot, a poster that says Young Money in Arabic, and 3 weeks worth of tuna tartare and lobster salad.

Is it rude if I ask

What specifically you were addicted to when you call yourself a reformed addict
If you tried in vitro before adopting an asian
What your dose of accutane is
If the sex is still good
If you can give me a massage
to lend me your computer technician for the weekend
to be in your wedding
to go down on me if you have braces
If you think Neo Nazi's physical features are attractive
your dad to help me get a reservation
Why your house is in the wrong hamptons
Why you still horsebackride

I dont want to be in a relationship

Relationships are for the weak. I am normally your typical manic social climbing pill popping top shelf liquor drinking H and M for Versace wearing prude slut who just wants to be loved by a boy other than father, but Frankly I don't need your consistency.
 Sure, its nice to get photographed with the same person on each event to show Bill Cunningham you are not a slut, I find that the same boy's emotional problems and need to get laid and curiosity in employment in my father's firm exhausting.

Id rather get laid by a different banker everynight in order to create a spreadsheet of all the banker's penis' which will be contingent upon my decision of which investment facility I will invest my ever dwindling trust fund in.

Socialites Seek Refuge

On a typical saturday where I got my most recent hook up buddy and drug dealer confused in my phone, as when my dealer texted me where are you, I responded with Whatever I dont even care anymore.

My dear ivy league educated highly photographed skinny ethnic member of my inner circle took up residency in my pied a terre after several bouts of domestic issues with her significant banker. Since I am such a good theripast and provide and endless supply of xanax, vogue cigs, confetti, bubbles, and various witch craft spells, she thought my home was the perfect place of refuge from the police, especially since I frequently run from them.

Thank goodness both our dads were in Fraternities with the mafia. Thank goodness she repaid my hospitable services with tickets to Alvin Ailey, Veuve Clicqout, and gorgeous jennifer miller bangled bracelets for the Christmas Big Apple Circus Party Event. Clowns have the best meth.

Karma, I hope no one notices that I stole 50 dollars from the Salvation Army bucket on 5th Avenue outside Bergdorf's since I take good care of my socialites.

How do you know when you qualify for institutionalization?

I could use a few days off of work and am thinking of checking myself into a phenom mental institution, I could use some new friends to play the game of who has more daddy issues and who's private school was more expensive.

I am my own DrugDealer and I asked my asian neighbor to open my wine

In my prime I am taking up dealing drugs and for right now I am my only client.  Roll Deep. Hood Life in Chanel.

I would have thrived at High School in New Jersey and here's why

I love In style and use Clarins products

All thru college I tried to hook up with fraternity presidents and thought I was hot shit when I wore ADEPI letters to the gym


I wear Louboutins and automatically think I should be photographed in the Sunday Styles


I wait outside Goldman Sachs when the market closes and would graciously suck the dicks of any of the low tier analysts
I bbm my friends in my oversized banana republic sweater drinking starbucks nonfat-venti-nowhip-mochalightlattec-aramel-syrup coffee and then go on the elliptical for 30 minutes listening to Jay Z and feel really gangster and in shape and text all my friends about how good I am

I talk about how cool cocaine is

I have long lasting debates about the effects of social media on social skills

I love going to clubs, getting tables, watching boys buy bottles, taking muploads, and dancing with my girls to Katy Perry whilst chainsmoking and then vomiting in the limo and not remembering anything

Daily Dose of Glitter

If you're willing to be friends you should be willing to fuck
If you dont have a table you dont have a trust fund
If you dont drink Johnny Walker Black and reflect on the subtleties of post european apocoliptic mayan prophecies than you didnt go to an Ivy league
At the end of the day, im just thankful my homicidic reflections outweigh the suicidal ones
If your drug dealer accepts american dollars you may as well be born in a trailer

Rules of the party

1. Dont sit with the press
2. Dont ask the photographers who they work for
3. If you break up with your boyfriend the night before your party, claim he has a terrible case of beet food poisoning
4. Talk about your parents charity involvements
5. Smoke vigourously outside on your cell phone to your driver
6. wear stockings and Louboutins
7. Trip people
8. tweet with obnoxious hashtags #dontyouwantyouwantmylife

sorry my problems are interesting

you cant take the heat of my fabulously interesting deliriously crazy family and friends and need to impress photographers?
So here's the story,
 Im awesome, Im always running out of money that gets replenished as fast as my blood to my brain when Im swinging upside down on the swings, and if you cant take the heat of my kitchen that I don't cook in and have cocaine cooking, than you best be on your way and take your low tax bracket with you.

Glitter Therapist Vanity Fair Proust Questionnaire

1. Perfect Happiness
Blowing Coke off of Dom Perignon Bottles on a Yacht while rolling around in hot fudge
2. Greatest Fear
That I wont get a table at Le Bernadin or that I forget my lines in my upcoming soft core erotic french porn tomorrow.

3. Which historical figure do I most identify with?
Eva Braun, because if the sex is good, I do not care your opinion of the Jews.

4. Which Living Person do you most admire?
Casey Anthony

5. What trait do you most deplore in yourself?
My minor schizophrenia and my lack of connections that render me incapable of being part of the mob

6. What is the trait you most deplore in others?
Their inability to admit their chronic racism or alcoholism

7. What is your greatest extravagance?
My 24 diamond carat clit piercing

8. On what occasion do you lie?
When people ask me if I would have sex with family members for money

9. What do you most dislike about your appearance?
That it is obvious I am always on xanax and I have a wide ass crack

10. When were you happiest?
When my shrink told me she was having an abortion because I am her only true child

11. What do you consider your greatest achievement?
My ability to fall in love with anyone who has a house in the hamptons and a pseudo ivy league degree

12. If you died and came back as something what would it be?
A heroin needle for celebs

13. What is your most treasured possession?
My Gun from Morocco and my personalized prescription pad and my driver

14. What do you regard as the lowest depths of misery?
being around people that do not think im funny

15. Who are your hero's?
Suri Cruise, Puccinni, Samuel Huntington, Lauren Conrad, Estee Lauder, Fred Wilson, Jesus,

16. How would you like to die?
Stabbed by a scorned lover bullfighter like in Carmen

17. What is your motto?
Stay Rich. Stay Medicated.

Paris Fashion week is only a month away and here's why I care

Fashion week is for fags unless you are walking the runway or are Galliano or are selling coke to the models.
But I love it because mother is a fashion writer or whatever so she flees the country with her photographer and leaves her sleep meds and birkins behind.
Its no wonder I sleep so well and never lose my wallet during January.
So is it trendy to wear fur vests and ankle boots? O thats right I dont care.
Ill see you at the St Regis passed out with my veuve and xanax in 2007 prada heels and target jeans because I spend my trust fund on booze and the economist and us weekly.

She Relies on Daddy's Money, Gross and Childish? Consider the Alternative

My parent's were all "You should contribute to your rent" and I was all "fuck off"


Lets face (lift) it, Id rawther be on my philipe starke couch with father paying rent till im 45 then be an independent woman on my trashcan. #truthhurts Independence when it means being in a middle class tax bracket sounds as painful as botox sans oxycotin.
Ciao

I use Powerful Aphrodisiacs besides oysters and meth

seductively suggest internships at father's firm

Sex

Is anyone else having a major problem keeping it in?

With a mouthful of xanax and a greenbelt, one can accomplish anything

It was like my dojo once said, to kill the viper you must be a viper, or maybe it was Emily Thorne's dojo- that manic bulimic masochistic miscast blonde on Fox's Revenge

I learned that full relaxation, requires a great dump, people who share similar politics involving killing liberals and translating Dostoy-sexy and exchanging Mandaring business tips, I have a great inner circle. Now all I need is a larger interest rate on my trust fund, a boyfriend with a motorcycle and a country home off the coast of the mediterranean, and a bodyguard that lets me facepaint him with rainbows and butterflies.

The best meal I ever had was at Silver Hill REhab

My harvard graduate law school business school et cetera ad naseum cousin who got better bone structure but a boring personality recently entered rehab for her own version of a mariah carey nervous breakdown coupled with wrists splitting veins, intentional devotion to percocet, and chronic masturbator to the vampire diaries.

Ipso facto, we visited her at Family Day, which nearly caused my own brief check in and the salad tuna nicoise with dressing on the side followed by a brief horseback ride thru the 550 acre property and a caviar clit massage only proved that I should be slitting my wrists more often.

Aside from the finding yourself and inner strength bullshit, Ive never had so much fun with the fam. Not to mention brother and I did kamikaze shots in the bathroom and smoked a fat blunt in the limo home with the bodyguard. 

25 three times, I am celebrating my quarter life 3 times

Skip all the boring ages, no one likes celebrating something as mentally retarded as turning 17, or 31, or 24. This way every year can be you 7th annual 21 birthday.  No one likes an old hag with a wrinkly vagina and an ever dwindling trust fund with a jaded sense of the complete and utter mindless childlike yet o so magical and vital one night stand.

lets be real one night stands are pathetic post age 17, so lets do as the black kids with bling and buckets of money do, and never get old, always stay fresh, and fuck mad bitches. 

Goals accomplished

For months I have chased down children hoping to light my cigarette for the ultimate artistic expression on my feelings toward the next generation. I love kids. I love slaves. I love Islam. See default.

December Holiday Goals

Procure Valium laxatives
Brush my teeth more than once a month
strike up conversations with strangers via public transportation
drop xanax into peoples cocktail glasses at parties
wear a turban to the airport
stop getting my dad to call my lifestyle extravagant
get selena gomez or margaret thatcher to tweet at me
talk to a dead person
blow a ball boy at wimbledon