There is a reason Poor and Bore Rhyme

I fear little except for not becoming the Brunette Version of the late Bulimic Princess Diana.

Although,

I am HIV positively terrified of Forever 21, communism, obscure literary references that I do not understand, people who are nice to their maids without being sarcastic, china dolls, and those who aren't somehow of Royal Israeli or European descent.

Most importantly, I am concerned with Boredom, which is why I live everyday hoping that I glean the same reaction that a crowd at Lavo has when approaching a broken shattered glass.

I often fear not, as social climbing racist elitist alcoholic like yours truly often finds amusement with the simplest of realizations of my own existence.

Alas

I slit my wrists only to tell people about it and for the appropriate Itunes music Soundtrack compilation. I also use the blood for my post modern feminine Jackson Pollock Georgia O'keefe pieces that my agent says are simply retarded.

I have 14 different fake facebook accounts for stalking wealthy manhattan's elite for the religiously Christian sole purpose to find their whereabouts and their movie tastes.

I sell klonopin and French Laxatives to every concierge at the BA first class lounge at Heathrow, LAX and JFK so I can easily smuggle my marijuana

I feign panic attacks and faint when the IRS asks to pay taxes and thus have not paid since 1994.

I brush my teeth with Veuve Cliquot and only eat a mixture of lobster salad nicoise, glitter, caviar, Rich people poop and peanut butter tasti delite

New Money: You were Poor 5 minutes ago so no, I will not be your date to the Opening Met Party

I wake up everyday to the sound of my maid's vacuum cleaner and have to curse her out and make me a pellegrino.

I was brought up to be nice to everyone except those below you economically, which is why I have a hard time differentiating my poor friends from my staff.

Last week I met fellow post 35 individual who was clearly dripping in Money but didnt go to college. My wellreadwellbred antenna kicked into ambien high gear as like mexicanism and liberal cellulte, a lack of undeserved prestigious education is simply not tolerated.

However, unlike my trust fund lawyer I am willing to make comprises especially when it comes to interesting activities that I do not pay for and that look good in photos.

Strippers Whip its and Stock Brokers: Hey Babe which laxatives go Best with My complexion?

I frequent the strip club quite a bit, Why? I like to talk shop with the Big Black Managers about Guns and security procedures since I have a similar background given my sleazy narcotic private investigative initiatives.

As I split a pill of ex with one of the bathroom attendants from West Africa I caught a reflection of myself in the mirror and realized in my gin soaked haze that I had forgotten to ask my dad for rent and couldnt tip her which is the lowest form of poor taste.

As my looming pending eviction was soon to occur I lamented in the notion, that I never paid my rent to begin with and perhaps I was living in a false reality where money like true love on the Upper East Side are pretend.

Who do I frequent these high end establishments filled with young women with A plus bodies studying Communications at CUNY who strip to Pay for tuition and blow and frappuchino's?

Father's employees. LE DUH.

After we posted a photo in the Kelvin filter in the VIP champagne room that immediately made it to the RICH KIDS OF INSTAGRAM filter after hitting post 50 likes in under 2 minutes, a goal that I had set for myself along with getting a masters in documentary film making from UCLA,  he bought me a lap dance
and whilst this occured I decided to see if the stripper could name as many capitals in Europe as I could or name 5 Operas where no one dies.
Needless to say we are getting drinks at the 4 seasons this week to trade stories over which laxatives go better with adderal and how to get glitter into clear heels.

We decided to go back to his 3 BEdroom Apartment in Soho and proceeded to Order Whip its in Spanish and one up each other in who has a more prestigiously psuedo ivy intellectual background by talking about Hemingway and quoting Proust.

I have so many Trust (Fund) Issues

When it comes to relationships,
 I am the duchess of making a mess, simply because I am incapable of caring about anything but my own personal state of induced or natural satisfaction.
The idea of compromise, Hamptons instead of Palm Beach, Flute instead of Piano, Helena instead of Hermia  is simply an absurd idealistic communistic notion created by those without money.

Some have it all, and Im plagued by the idea that I do not.

It all started when Mother told me that being beautiful was much more important than being a phenom writer, party attender, gift giver, ball sucker, and mexican kid hugger, qualities that are just as important as being beautiful that I realized I have even if Im also a whore who sleeps with men who have last names on Wikipedia.
 I am also a really great facebook wall poster and  a really lovely tasti delite person to go with.
These traits were always undervalued because physical appearance to rich people is international currency that books your tickets to the land of never working.

Alas,
I heir out my dirty laundry, because I want you all to clean and I obviously do not know how. How can I possibly trust someone in a relationship if all I can think about is how heavily concerned I am with myself.
And it is not the superficial aspect of myself like my eyeliner or champagne or drug dealer choice, but How can I possibly make sure that everyone around me does not forget me because Id rather be known as a narcissistic alcoholic self obsessed shady social climbing asberger pill popper than someone sweet and uninteresting.

So my wish for myself, is that I let go of the frustration that for so long I did not want to trust people for fear that they would know my secret, that I am in fact a manically ill selfish little bore, and learn to be skeptical of my own skepticism that it is possible for me to love someone as much as I think about myself and perhaps just be me for a while.
Sans the porn, the weapons, the poison, the eating of splenda packets, the forgetfulness of brushing teeth, the lack of seriousness and respect I have for myself, and let myself explore the possibility that I do not know everything.

But do indeed.
Stay Medicated.

Is there anything cuntier than

Someone's apartment that is not decorated with rampant chandeliers?

People who use the phrase, be that as it may, empty calories, and I dont smoke weed?

Having Zero Net worth?

People who use twitter for Business purposes?

Talking about safety schools in front of Minorities?

Bringing up your Financial Times and Barron's Subscription?

Anti War Protests?

Getting Your Period?

Your Charity Friends thinking they are just as posh as you?

 

After me and daddy Watch Glee and Brush the Poodles Teeth I make him tell me Im pretty

I think I am the best thing that ever happened to my parents, like most eldest children I paved the golden brick road along with the help of some mexican workers because lets be very R.Kelly Real, I dont pave, and showed them what perfection in childhood form looks like.

Lets take a look at what makes me the perfect specimen example of offspring. 

1. I am pretty

2. I feign employment 

3. I am racist

4. I appreciate fashion and gay people

5. I drink

6. I understand Italian

7. I appreciate almonds and quinoa and perrier

8. I try very hard not to be fat

9. I work hard at my tourettes and asbergers

10. I gossip about my friend's sex lives and their parent's money issues 

Upper East Side Cunt or Mom?

Whilst Enjoying a vicodin Brunch of Mimosa's and Vegan Walnut Scones no Whip at the Beverly Hills Hotel with Seester and our adopted British SuperModel slash International THinkTank Account Executive,
we were interrupted by a highly tightly wound bulimic upper east side Mom who couldnt help but overhearing that I enjoy cocaine and Tosca and live a highly functional Lifestyle in my post private school existence.

I love a Good Power Mom with  a ready to blow me attitude on how to get into an Ivy League.  I cant think of anything more of a vomit inducing conversation other than dating someone without money.

She interrupted us wanting an SAT tutor for her SAB perfect ballerina batmitvah daughter in the hopes that she too would end up pseudo Ivy League bound  surrounding herself amongst her own elite group of pill popping alcoholic sluts with daddy issues sauteed in having the ability to get fingered without crying by a Rockefeller and do a comparative Analysis of Post Modern Europe To Colonial America in Arabic.

I love a good interruption on how to succeed at the Private School Ivy League Game besides giving money to a Library and feigning a fake leg as your college essay. Because Here is my secret. I have no fucking clue, but LOVE TO TELL YOU I KNOW EXACTLY HOW HASHTAG #LetsgotoPALMBEACHandTakeEX

I immediately took hold of this conversation by calling out this sex starved mother on her lack of employment besides her pre occupation of turning her daughter into the post millenium highly anxious Blair Waldorf and said that I was a manically depressive bipolar drug addict in Middle School and spent most of my time playing chess and fainting, yet was accepted into University over my diversity of the lowest ACT scores known to mankind in my tax bracket, and now am doing just fine as a social climbing manically prude alcoholic desperate to fill a billionaire divorcee's midlife crisis.

My advice to you Upper East Side Crazed Mom who could really use a vibrator and a deep tissue at the bouji Canyon Ranch,
take some Klonopin before your next Nervous Breakdown and let your daughter's freak flag fly. She will be whatever she will be, come what may. Whether its Princeton or MaryMount School Dropout, as long as she keeps her Ballet Body and excellent people skills, she will continue to lead the life to which she is accostomed and probably work at Michael Kors.

Im so not into having sex with you if I have to do more than lie here

My nearest and Dearest named Dior, who also rocked a 2002 Dior bag and looked like her botox was from a Living Social deal was telling me that she didn't mind giving head. She also had a side ponytail and a New Jersey accent and spoke with an inflection that made it clear she had never seen an Opera nor seen the Almafi Coast. 

I love a good charity friend. 

However, when someone says something as asanine as I enjoy lock jaw and balls I have to cease the conversation and call them out on their bullshit and dwindling trust fund.  

I nearly spit out my Jack Daniels and Clorox and thus assumed that she didnt mind paying for dinner and sharing her blow since it was "I dont mind doing peasant social climbing get attention call me never activities" night. 

But I got to thinking, I have some serious sexual problems because, like Chanukah,  I simply do not see the appeal unless I get a present for 8 days otherwise I dont care. 

Quite a weekend indeed. 

See you at the St. Regis. 

Stay Medicated. 

Vote Republican

You look like you're dripping in Money in that Photo

1. Teeth
2. Anorexic Arms
3. Bottles of Veuve in the Background
4. a well decorated room with attractive eurotrash at the table with half empty wine glasses
5. Tasteful designer Handbags
6. Relaxed xanax hazed- I hate you but lets looks like we're best friends and Im not trying to fuck your boyfriend in this photo

60 plus likes

Fall Goals besides giving better head and making smarter investments

The Theme as Always is Hitler, Wealthy Jizz, and a lot of Xanax with Jack and Diet

1. Acquire Even more Neo Nazi Paraphernalia

2. Start a Spanish Pen Pal Relationship with someone in Columbia or Peru solely for smuggling purposes

3. Sell some of Mother's purses and my childhood Steinway Piano on Ebay for drugs

4. Film a 21st Century Version of the Sound Of Music indented with rap and remix a cappella liberal bullshit of some of the top hits, i.e 16 going on 17 #UnderAgeNaziYouth

5. Start a Rich Kids with Poor Kids of Instagram

6. Talk about wine with as much British inflection and Douchebaggery as possible

7. Blackmail my husbands divorce lawyer

8. Figure out a sleeping rape Potion to give to up and coming Venture Capitalists and Diamond Dealers with whom I come in Contact with at Lavo

What happens when the money Runs Out?

I have the sudden yet minorly intense paranoia reminescent of right before Tosca Jumps or when he cant cum and you have been down there for 20 minutes, that the StocK Market is nOt Hot right now.

Am I supposed to seek meaningful employment beyond selling my prescriptions and stalking rich people? I simply refuse to live in a world where I cannot order Veuve Clicquot and Tuna Tartare so meaningful employment plays a crucial role.

I do indeed believe that sleeping one's way to the top is the best course of action which means that I will send for British Lube, Perrier and a wide varietal of Asian porn to best equip myself on this journey towards making my own money.
Disgusting,

I cant decide who I hate more My Mom or My Maid

I have a firm belief that a good maid determines the sanity of the household.

Why I remember one of my dearest Jamaican Housekeepers used to quiz me on Latin Declensions and tell me when I looked to slutty for Bar Mitzvah's and that my parents were crazy.
Quintus est Romanus Puer.


It was established in the 3rd Reich that the Father manages the business  and the Mother manages the household.

So what happens when Mother- believes that the maids are simply just her paid friends who simply pour her wine and watch her fashion videos with her?

Then they believe they can treat me with the same sort of disrespect and show up as they please and disinfect at their own leisure.

Mother's of the Upper East Side and the Wealthy Suburbs of Chicago, I urge you to take better control of your staff for the sanity of your family.

Diamond Encrusted Blue Collar Lovers

Most of my contemporary social climbing yacht hopping eastern european visiting post apocolyptic klonopin Generation private school inner circle only give blow jobs to guys with money.

Guys with money are inherently terrible at sex because they can use their money to overcompensate so we all cope with and frankly much prefer getting off by ourselves and in my case, to myself in exchang for lower credit card bills and the sanity that our children can lead the same wrist slittingly glamorous lives that we did .

Perhaps for our mothers this method of rich sex worked, because our Father's were gentlemen who gave Mummy jewelry and theatre tickets in exchange for sexual favors.

In this generation of lazy trust fund cracked out douchebags who share the mentality of i dont do work dot com,
 have quent-essentially been too lazy to treat us like the wealthy well established intellectual hookers that we know we are and have stopped taking us to a soon to be vomited dinner and buying soon to be sold on eBay Cartier Love Bracelets.

So, Bad Sex and No Gifts?

Ish Do not THINK SO.

I have started a new proposal to date men in the working class. They are better at sex because they have actually had to work for a living and it already becomes a chic inherent cocktail conversation topic when someone works as a bartender, construction worker, community college attendant, or Yacht Jacuzzi champagne washer, WHY? Because its hilarious and every uptight Pseudo Ivy League Cunt needs a good laugh, and a better lay.

And as always, our fathers will always be our first loves, who will fit the bill at Ciprianni's and Nobu, because he just wants us to be happy. As long as he's not morbidly Mexican or Obese.


See you at the St. Regis
Stay Medicated

Top Celebrities I want to smoke marijuana with

I am the shadiest star fucking Narcotics Detective I have never met,

Here is a list of some wildly intellectual people with whom I hold the utmost respect towards and whom Id like to roll a diamond encrusted republican Jay with

Greta Von Susteren

Nancy Reagan

Jana Ryan

Violet Affleck

The Brooks Brothers

Judge Judy

Now We Said it

Glitter Review 

"You are amazing. I randomly came across your blog when I googled something profane. Not only did your brilliant, witty, irreverent writing help me through a dark place - I shared it with my most beautiful, sardonic, yacht-hopping, self-flagellating girlfriends, and we all agreed - you are not only a lyrical genius, but a guilty pleasure harbinger of Our Times. You are intelligent, sarcastic, profane, and say all the things that are not "okay" to say. I have not resonated with/been impressed with a writer like this since Sylvia Plath. Ever since stumbling across your blog a few weeks ago, I have since read every single one of your posts, and continue to revisit. You truly are gifted, and you officially have a following. Thank you for your amazing writing!"


As if I needed more padding to my already overinflated overdulged self deprecating Interior Designed Ego. 

In any case, anytime you want to go for a Veuve Clicquot and Blaze in my Jacuzzi, or visit the Tate Modern, Im avail, unless Im on surveillance.  

You are my new best friend call me everyday for the rest of your life. 


Stay Medicated. 

Two Sisters, Ying Yang Kale Klonopin: The Newest Diamond Encrusted Life Advisors in the Penthouse are in

Its a nice thing to help people. But only those with important last names, or those that are huge in the tech scene.

Seester and I have decided to go into business together to advise and support contemporary narcissistic hotel bar hopping pill popping alcoholic youth who enjoy blazers, British Airways Pajamas, Newport, Cigars, French People and a blowjob

I am seeking funding from some of the top Drug Lords in our circle and in Peru

and Seester, from Father and from her 4 current lovers.

Le Duh, she is ahead.

Alas. Here is the Ad. We can be reached Via instagram or through my Publicist/Maid.

Two well bred upper crust sisters are a team of up and coming life guides. The pressures of trying to marry into the life to which you are accustomed, get a career that is sophisticated but requires no work, and stay skinny rich and republican are exceedingly overwhelming and sometimes one needs to talk to objective, yet attractive people whilst in a haze of xanax and Johnny Walker Black . 

 One sister, a peaceful serene and radiant yoga instructor/economist with a masters in holistic anorexia/nutrition is the ying, and the other Sister,  is a cracked out manic asberger syndrome alcoholic social climber with a penchant for witty sexual banter and who addresses problems with  recommended prescriptions and cold hard facts hashtag yourfatandNotwhite is the yang. 

With their combined recommendations, your life will be carefully addressed with the balance of nourishing kindness, vicodin and a clear look at the truth that will ultimately get to the core of what's preventing you of becoming your most powerful self.  

Whether you are looking to address a problem in love, family, career, health, sex, or just a casual depression in regards to your trust fund, prenup, and other potential liquidated or unliquidated assets that aren't directly in your name, we've heard it all and as a collective unit, our methods will guide you to living a truer more self aware existence to discover who you are, what you want, what you need. 

Can I crash At your Place? If by Crash you mean come off your meth binge for a few hours than certainly

UGH DISASTER43. That was my old screen name when I used to have cyber sex with men I met online through my chess games.

But in all seriousness, I have frequently discussed what makes a good house guest and this is the recipe.  

1. Take off some of your clothes and suggest and appropriate sexual activity

I may lie steal cheat and do drugs, but At least Ill tell you if the wine is disgusting and if you look like trash, because I know I do

The facts are simple

1. I am the most interesting person in the room so its time to leave Immediately.

2. I have seen more cocaine at Equinox than I have at Lavo

3. I have every single one of my friend's wedding toasts and funeral speeches prepared, because lets be very real. These events are about how beautifully I l can craft the English language.

4. From Iron Man third Runner Ups, to Bulimics, to Beer Bellies, to Puerto Ricans (maybe) I will most definitely fuck you if I can get a guest pass to the Soho House or at the Very Least a week's worth of adderal.

5. I would never invite anyone to my jacuzzi who has so much as looked at your boyfriend/ father wrong, or If I do, I will call them out on their lack of Manhattan/Beverly Hills Elite Upbringing and laugh when they cannot name an Opera where no one dies.

6.  I consider it a form of pure genius like the great Artists before us when women convince their Forbes 400 plus husbands that a Prenup is a Lupe Fiasco Ludicras.

7. When I first meet you, my assessment for basis of if I like you is if I can see us potentially doing drugs together and if we can laugh about people with less money

Im sorry I spilled Prosecco on you and many other Apologies On Labor Day Weekend

Labor Day weekend was beyond your typical gathering of alcoholic narcissistic creme da la creme bottle poppers of society of whom I frequently sext,
but sometimes I do need a rest from the constant pressures of instagram and feigned anxiety over my lack of substantial employment, and indulge in some wholesome corruption of the youth in my family dynastic American Tzar-like Crest.

I left the Summer Chez Cray for a Nano to  booze with my cousin, a hot young surfer chick with sick braces and an innocence that is so eerily pure I am quite certain she is faking
Ipso facto,  I was busy explaining to her my most recent qualm about how this wealthy Venture Capitalist in Vegas cant get it up unless he's so coked out he starts rapping about his stock portfolio, when I knocked over my prosecco onto her and she was pissed.


So Im terribly sorry,
 but you must know I haven't gotten through a meal without knocking my drink since the Clinton Administration,my stories simply require grand hand gestures and also I smack waiters.

 And while we are on the subject of sex, drugs, and jews who Booze- I totally agree with you,

a candle service for your pending Batmitzvah Bouji-ness is beyond homosexual.
 Keep the jew talk to a minimum and the Mr Dee Jay Pon De Replay Dance Floor Makeouts to a maximum. Mazel Tov.

Stay Medicated Bitches.

After one date I ask my Dad if I can bring them To Nantucket

I went on a date with this very pretentious boring Finance Loser who only cares about the Mets and his Fraternity, himself, and cocaine.
At Palm, he  ordered the Gigi Salad and ate it with his hands and ordered a Trashy bottle of Zifandel.
He can only talk about Conservative Politics and Goldman Sachs

Normally I would drown myself in my own slit wrist blood

 but his father is legitimately the CEO of Chapstick and I require a lifestyle that needs to support my team of doctors and old navy wardrobe.

He was the laziest freak I ever banged and just lay there like Caylee Anthony. He also fingered me so hard I couldnt ride my pony for a week and if thats not a white girl problem I dont know what is.


 Irregardless we look rich as a white Jay Z and Beyonce on instagram.

Clearly this is a match made in E Harmony Mormon Match Hell, but if he cuts coke with a black card and calls me babe im down.

For Father, as long as he was waspy, white, anorexic, questionably gay and drank enough scotch that could fill the jacuzzi in the Ritz, he was more than down as well.

Cheers to the freakin weekend.

Asbergers Tourettes Xanax and a Jack and Coke

Whenever I feel nervous my immediate skinny gut reaction is to start talking about cocaine, this is probably why I make a terrible business person, but at least I can get every low tier analyst at J.P Morgan to finish in under 10 minutes and Ive stopped using teeth.

Shadier than A Business Meeting In St Tropez

I may be a long messy hair dont care alcoholic pretentious slut who likes to get fingered and jam to 90's Hip Hop with married men, but Im very nice. 

Im also wildly shady, insecure, rude, and in the end a pretty bad person who will make an excellent publicist for all the chic yet bouji clubs in Hell.  

Here is a list of Shady things I have done this week 

1. Did cocaine with my trainer who once took me to Disney World when I was 6 and made him so nervous that he locked us out of his Bentley. 

2. Went to my best friend's Plastic Surgeon father for vaginal tightening surgery

3. Hid in Mexico for 3 days without telling anyone

4. Stole money from all of my house guests

5. Texted my friends boyfriend "Sup"

6. Smoked a blunt on the airplane 

No one ever said I wasnt classy. How many Aria's can you name in Carmen? Hashtag ToreadorCUNT

Its September Bitch

Isnt is goddamn boring to go to the bathroom without drugs? I certainly thought so. I knew it was going to be a ridiculous labor day weekend when I dropped 4 xanax in my pinot noir before I watched my cousin surf and planned on roofie-ing all my fathers employees. 

Labor Day weekend, I was happy I got to spend time with my father and his international financier executive contemporaries so that I could ask them to weigh on my most recent hook ups with my small time coke dealer boyfriend. 

Everyone was into it. Especially Father. The hired help was rather confused.