Midsummer Nights Dream Goals as Titania Queen of The Fairies in Love with an Ass

I decided I need some new activities

1. Join an underground shady poker club

2. Become an escort

3. start dropping phrases like "the net present value of money" and not let anyone see my sparkcharts 

4. Develop more appropriate small talk skills at Teterboro that can be used at the Box at the Metropolitan Opera

5. Make more friends that require an introduction to prove the value of my own social worth to others, I.E This is Katirina she just got back from shooting a Dior Perfume Campaign in Zurich 

or this is Lance, hes so tired from finishing helping develop a new biochemical thwarting device in DC and is only here for the weekend so lets show him a good time 

Thursdays Make me want to delete Instagram

I dont know if any of you are aware but I am huge in the tech scene and am most likely moving to silicon Valley just for the Irony of my fake boobs and my vision of my app that allows you to connect to Drug Dealers if you have a black card and are part of my new fight Club

Instagram is the app created by the Stoner Ivy League Institution where you can post photos of yourself and friends doing wealthy activities looking skinnier and artsier. 

The perfect app for our generation of cracked out pill popping youth who want to change the world, save the dolphins and wear Balmain 

Alas

#ThrowbackThursdays

Showcases Instagram photos of the 90s era of all of our current cocaine mali addicts as innocent children on beaches and charity events unaware of the deep dark self and society inflicted pain that is quickly approaching. 

Also, real talk R. Kelly. If you were so hot as a child, why are you reminding your followers of your current situation of your current overweight acne induced wrist slitting scarred self? 

Id like to take this motion to remove ThrowbackThursdays as they are everything I stand against;

The 90s- Clinton, Rwanda, pre pubescent awkwardness on beaches, lack of alcohol, 

I dont have any staff members who arent my therapists

I was talking to a contemporary wellbredwellread skinny liberal friend of mine, and I forgive her unethical political values because her great Uncle was a Democrat Senator of Oregon who was poisoned because he passed a bill allowing it to be cool if black and white kids drink from the same water fountain.

Questionable.

She has so much money, that is to the point where it is almost rude to talk about, and I find myself questioning my own pretentiousness. The very quality that adds humor to my selfdestructiveness.

Without my money and my discussions of my personal liquidated assets compared to others, I am unclear how I measure up to those around.

As I rambled on the stairmaster (Im trying to bring the 80s back hashtag Cocaine)

about the awkwardness that my driver had friended me on facebook, as my confiding in him that I only buy weed so I can invite guys over, led him to believe that we had somehow opened the door to a friendship, when in veritas, I was bored in traffic and couldnt text because my nails werent dry.

Alas,

I realized she never talks about staff, therapists, trainers, healers, and animal namers yet she has them all.

When talking about your staff, you let everyone in on the secret of your wealth and where it begins and sadly where it ends.
But if you never mention anything, the imagination runs wild. Perhaps she has an inflated private plane that has white tigers that use kiels products.

Glittery Family Fights Prove the Hamptons are over

I am slowly becoming the least favorite child.
the older messier manic prude social climbing alcoholic suicidal daughter with pent up sexual and academic frustration that only naturally is preformed in a theatrical histrionic manner for all to see.

During dinner on Nantucket, a place that has rapidly become the Summer spot for the nouveau riche trust fund jews turned wasps
 who refuse to be sucked in to the Hamptons Scene bullshit of future J.P Morgan execs and their boring liberal blonde instacokegram sluts

as we all know Finance Guys, and the boring way they fuck are over and done. Just like the hamptons.

 When the Oysters and Veuve Cliquot came, I was ready to inform my dad about how cool I was

when my
My Brother, a character who fits somewhere between a Young Fratty Gatsby and Lil Wayne with better grammar,
informed me that perhaps I do not have what it takes  to be a an oil heir trophy housewife with a prosperous a career as a  sleazy narcotics detective because of the essential existential truth that I am very slightly retarded and have the common sense of a jewish mom from New Jersey.


EX CUSE AY MOI!!!!!!!

Brother ignited the theatrics as

a typical scene of mass hysteria replete with shrieks and bottles breaking occurred as he may have confirmed the sense of worthlessness and incompetence that plagues me leaving a concerned yet surprisingly witty patron to write an article of the events that transpired and I will post it Verbatim

If you believe this is infactual, have your assistant type this into google and you will find it.

"An incredibly awesome fight was taking place between a father who appeared to be in his 70s, and his two kids in their early 20s. We don't know exactly what transpired but the daughter screamed at the top of her lungs something like, "you don't understand me", took a drink of her champagne, and ran out of the room. The room was dead silent for a moment (which was remarkable). The son said to his father quite loudly, "dad, why should I go work for an analyst who doesn't know sh*t?", drank his champagne, and soon the sobbing girl came back."




I commend this writer, A restaurant reviewer who not only comments on the food and wine list, but on the ambience of the high end 1 percent clientele that frequent.
I am emailing my lawyer to get a percent of the restaurant profit increases for the summer. 


A more important question though, Does my Brother have a point? He tells it like it is and isnt afraid of anyone including biting the golf glove hand that feeds him caviar.  But as someone who could benefit from being the sister of an oil heir and Spy, he should be nicer. 


Or maybe not, and ignite my histrionics that ultimately make this dining establishment the hottest place of the summer leaving our family where it belongs. At the top of our game. 

Potential Mitt Romney V.P Candidates besides me

I am clearly an authority to comment as I have a B.A from a pseudo Ivy League where I spent most of my political science classes judging my non existent sorority sister's spring break albums.

Alas, Obama, its been real and America was clearly not ready for a black President but it was funny that we tried.

All I have to say is, Sarah Palin, While you were really hot and provided material for Tina Fey's career to soar to the depths of outerspace,
You were a major reason the Democrats Matriculating office - With that said

It is beyond Crucial that the VP be a rockstar and get our country back to where it was in 1984 with small business growth and proper cocaine shipments.


1. Katie Holmes- Fairly Simplistic transition from Scientology to Mormonism and her wholesome yet silent disposition could serve us well. My concern though however is if it took her nearly 6 years to choose between Dawson and Pacey and America is still unclear who won, could she potentially have the decisive ability to help make equally as important decisions?

2. Father-  He and Romney use to booze together at Harvard Business, but obviously Father got better grades.  I do believe Father would help bring this country back to the 80s Reagan Roots where it belongs of small businesses and volatility,
I Dont love the idea that the VP's Children like myself have to slum it in DC while the Romney boys would live it up on 1600 Penny Avenue with the fully equipped staff. Father is also extremely a private man and I would also have to take this blog down most likely.

3. Karl Lagerfeld- A man of fashion, style, grace, homosexual, skinny, and European.  A representation of everything Europe is and America should be.

I thought Fashion was for Retards

As Kant says, "Taste Clips the Wings of Genius"

Kant is my favorite philosopher because it sounds like cunt,
 Dropping Philosophy quotes  is an essential ingredient of maintaining the delusional perception to others that you are not only deep, but rich and pretty which makes you wife material.

I can fake philosophy but I cant fake fashion.

First of all, Id rather spend my money on laxatives and mustard and

2nd of all, the impact of having a mother in the public eye to the extent to which she is makes the pressure of potentially being poorly photographed all too unbearable. But I would still love it.

 downfall. I have been known to show up at various black tie gatherings with blood on my clothes, rips at the seams, missing buttons, destroyed zippers and definitely was the one who told Elle Woods that orange was the new Pink to which she pegged me as "seriously disturbed"


It never bothered me much, as I figured women who were obsessed with fashion were liberal airhead retards with the I.Q of my faberge coffee table  with  only redeemable skills of a  sick plank position and the capacity to not gag during head.

Alas, I was proven slightly wrong when I realized pursuing a career in Fashion didnt make you a bored housewife who claimed she has an "eye for jewelry"

Anyone who has an "eye" for something and is not making a clever artistic pun relating to Picasso should drown themselves in their SouthHampton Jacuzzi ASAP.

FINALLY a brunette skinny republican professional cheerleader exec fashionista/author, who explained through the initial stages of her book the much deeper more complex ideas of what luxury means with Kant's notion in mind that taste ruins Genius DUH.

Immanuel Kant, you are working those plush velvet capris.

To the best of my cracked out knowledge, I do also believe that Mother is mentioned in this book.

See you at the St. Regis

Do you ever just prance around your room with CSI in the Background looking for ways to spend money?

On any given night when my insomnia and narcolepsy crash together like Hawaii -ian plate tectontics I hallucinate like the Urban Brunette Alice in Oxyland that is me and find ways to spend more money and get better at giving head

Glittery Bands of Gold

I am such a hard core star fucker you would think that I had never seen a celebrity or that I wasnt practically a celebrity myself. But when I do see myself I do fuck myself.

My housekeeper once told me I looked good and I stared at myself for 15 minutes after, admiring myself but then wrote a nasty note to my parents because they gave those recessive piercing sapphire eyes to the heir son.

Which brings me to a crucial part. 

After a night of dry humping this week's newest start up venture capitalist executives as Finance is so 2006 and essentially means you have the potential of making 5mil tops esp if you arent an HBS alumnus-cumless. 

I came home and recorded a video on his newest encoded app where you can sing and then mass text it to all of the top music record label agencies including Saudi Arabia and Indonesia where they think women belong in the oven or something. 

Here is it is. 

And if I so say so myself, Damn Im fly. and fucking high. 

Ive gotten into marijuana in my post adult existence

Im struggling if I would rather be known as the psycho hottie with the really good weed or the Park Avenue Heiress wannabe who has no redeeming qualities other than her questionable witchcraft obsession and string of Dirty mass text messages.

Men like weed, I like men. I

men, weed, me, chill, money. Lets get stoned and combine our liquidated assets while we bang to I shot the Sheriff.

Dont get my wrong,
My obvious drug of choice is mad blow followed by a series of Instagram photos avec likeminded celebrities who I went to high school with.

Ive always steered away from Pot as it is a plant which makes me feel like some sort of liberal environmentalist communist freak who doesnt know a Chianti from a Bordeaux and who isnt fluent in French or who doesnt regularly ski in Gstaad.



That made me think, since there are different strands of marijuana like different types of wine, and different ways to smoke it, then it could be considered a a pretentious artistic form of illegality.

I am down.

After careful analysis I realized that not only do Rich kids smoke also, it allows me to feel slightly freer than my usual uptight anxious frigid cold prude self who cant talk to men or properly come without my therapist holding my hand.



Plus, if Blake Lively can be the face of Chanel, fuck 2 dudes, have lamp chops with a Mexican Marijuana Lord, than I can too,

Jah Bless. Hipsters with Money? Lets get stoned and smoke a quality strand.

Worthless, Reckless, and Xanax Dependent, Its time For a psychic

My occupation these days has been a melange of a young Olivia Benson on crack

but yet, I have the work ethic of a Jappy New Jersey ho working at TeenVogue.

I.E I am Hardcore with big dreams but also in need of serious guidance and reality check, that I am wildly misinformed. 

But in defense of the Vogue Intern Bridge and Tunnel Retards, I too would let Andre Talley Leon cum all over my face.

I decided it was time to check in with Psychic Pete.
 Hes Asian. Hes Gay and hes liberal, and makes a living telling strung out Manhattan Socialites that they are deep and lead a worthwhile existence. 

I played along for fun..Why? same reason I invite my drug dealer to tea or give rim jobs. Im bored and slightly curious. 

He offered me a pellegrino with a splash of sugar free cran, which was whack because he is fat. 

He then told me that he sees great travel ahead of me, offspring who could potentially not necessarily be Miss USA, but in the runner up arena, and that Im overall out of this world ridiculously amazing and wildly misunderstood. 

Le fucking duh. 

Money well spent? Well how do I argue dropping 50G on blow and a hotel Room to impress a random C list model in town for the weekend? Soothing for the hashtag mind body spirit. 

My J12 says its snack time

Its not really my J12, its my sisters. She is a cunt and got a Chanel watch when she got into college and I was supposed to get a pony.

But then I didnt because my father realized that the school I went to Freshman year was essentially Radcliffe for Dykes who are in middle class forever 21 tax brackets.

Whilst I was eating my snack of olives and caviar with my contemporary Russian Super model friend who just finished Fashion Week in Paris I thought about how funny it would be if I asked her her opinion on Bloomberg's ban on sugary sodas.

So I did.

And her response?

I fucked him. He has small dick.

I dont appreciate lack of encouragement from my inner circle

Nothing is more fun to talk about over a veuve and xanax of who is making you most angry. I do this on a frequent basis.

One my lines is that I am trustworthy, loving phenom best friend, but in truth I am just using you for your in at Club sanc un Sanc and your plentiful selection of eligible coked out bachelors smoking cigars wearing nantucket red on the brink of Manhood bred for becoming the future exec Venture Capitalist/Head of Movie Studio/ head of Goldman for when Finance makes its comeback December 21, 2012


Its fairly obvious that I truly hate everyone, especially those that are prettier and have more money.

I truly madly deeply hope that they have a serious overdose and that their parents turn bisexual, which makes the NY POst, but not page 6.

In anycase,  it also fairly obvious that because of my tumultuous upbringing of upper class oppression I have severe issues with meeting men as no one will live up to Father's prestige and stock portfolio.

Ipso facto, when an opportunity of a potential laid back prosecco blow job dry hump club scene presents itself and is neither supported nor encouraged by my contemporaries.

I have to ask, do they truly have my worst interest? Or are they just so delusional that they do not realize they are acting like self involved middle class has beens with limited vocabulary and lack of understanding of the Middle East?

Time for a real evaluation.

Issues at Teterboro Hashtag DoucheBag problems

As I rounded up my crew of dealer, healer, and nod on my way to my holiday of flying private but not really because other people are on the plane that I dont know, I realized that Teterboro has gotten a little Bouji and here's why

1. They asked me for my name
2. There was diet coke for the airport staff and when asked if I could have one they said no
3. When I told them it was not like there was a bomb on the airplane ala Ben Stiller they wrote a note to my Dad that that language was a level 2 threat that compromised my security clearance
4.  I cant travel with my life size barbie size pony
5. The pilot has the indecency to ask me to turn off my iPad,

I have to stop Crying on surveillance

I dont talk about my private investigation initiatives on this forum to protect the guilty, but I can let in on a few secrets since I am withdrawing from my new antidepressants and switched to Geico. 

Just kidding I dont know what that means. 

I do take my job very seriously, very personally, and very much with a grain of cocaine to the point where I have been known to order sushi, pick up people that look rich, and text incessantly about how cool I look with my walkie talkie's by Dior. 

I am known to emotional breakdowns when missions fail on my account as it shows my true colors of inevitable incompetence and worthlessness. 

After careful examination though I realized that while tears and breakdowns look unprofessional and mentally unstable, it is better that the team learns the truth early.

Back to work.

Ill see you at the St. Regis 

God Particle

I only read FoxNews and I saw that they found God in a particle. Um I have two words to this claim. Le Duh.

Therapy is Hilarious

Im back in therapy. I mean I never left but Im back to the therapy where I dont get drugs and show my shrink instagram photos of all of the poorly raised children I matriculate with who I hope drown in the Caspian Sea this summer mwah mwah.

I have a theory, people that actually like their therapist are the sickest of them all. Therapy is the most narcissistic form of indulging one's most favorite activities. Talking about what is wrong with you.
Exhibit A:

typical patient: I hate that when I do too much coke I call my ex, and we have sex and then I get depressed and miss him even though I am truly fine without him.

typical shrink: You are doing this because you feel you are not worthy just being you. What would happen if you didnt do too much coke? What triggers you to do the drugs in the first place? Its not about the drugs and its not about the ex, its the feeling of powerlessness that overcomes you when you are in X situation. Lets talk about other strategies....

I LOL all the way back to my dealers car.

While she tells me Im pretty and Strong and she is so proud of me through all I have overcome, I pull a despicable delusional Carrie Bradshaw and not help but Wonder, am I seeking the best help that is out there?

Let us examine:
1. The black shrink in the Brady Brunch who encourages Jan Brady to go on with her delusion of her made up Boyfriend George Glass. She shows that lies and made up stories always win because George Glass does come to real life on the family's holiday in Hawaii. White Power

2. The Shrink in Cruel Intentions who bills Sebastian For the free book, yet Sebastian ends up posting nude photos of Tara Reid, which we have all already seen. Looks like the Jokes on Sebastian. Bravo

3. The Shrink in the Prince of Tides #wellbredwellRead who consoles his client over his sibling's breakdown and eventually engages in therapeutic sexual relations. I try to do this in every session

Im a Carrie, You're a Cunt

Bitches there is a reason this show is cancelled. No one wants to see Old Ladies wearing Manolos trying to get married. If I wanted that I could go for Tea at Freds or sit outside my Shrinks office all afternoon.

Its every post millenium woman's initiative to take it upon herself to declare what sex and the city cunt she believes she  is.  Here is the problem with Sex and the City, the 4 women are essentially well dressed hookers who are too old to be going to Le Bain yet too young to inflict any wisdom on young women, because lets face it they are retarded.

As a core I hate them because
they are not republican
dont do drugs
arent new money

Alas, here is the breakdown

If you claim you are a
Carrie- you are a narcissistic aggressive delusional well dressed artist who enjoys chainsmoking, and blowjobs with a side order of daddy issues and questionable hair.  You also could benefit from a nosejob and a columbia university writing class


Charlotte- you are a painfully annoying brunette who believes in ridiculous notions of true love, nondysfunctional families with money, and that perfection can be achieved through pilates and good education, you are a Park Avenue Princess who should be hospitalized for being under a spell of psychosis that people with money also have good intentions. Your lack of recognition of evil and darkness is unbecoming and rather bridge and tunnel

Miranda- if you claim you are a Miranda, this is a coverup for either being fat, ugly, poor, and sauteed in bad skin and poor hair coloring but for some reason think that an Ivy League degree and a job that requires more than having a last name of a hotelier compensates for your annoying disposition and worse feminism stance.

Samantha-  O dear, despite your whorish slutty behavior and lack of understanding that talking about cocks and orgasms like it is the news in the middle east comes off as trashy and uneducated, , you may be a dear friend and run a Business, but lets be real its in P.R and my 10 year old cousin could do this. My advice to those who claim to be a Samantha is to take a hard look at your sexual escapades and ask yourself is this really a good use of exploring my sexuality if all I end up with is Cancer, and STD a boyfriend who cheats on me and a model boyfriend who cant speak english? I should say not. Sleep carefully and act your age.