Free Spirit Wild Heart in A Corporate Go Getter Take No Bullshit Get Things Done Climb to the Top in a Cool Hazy Breeze with A Cigarette, a Klonopin and a full Blown Appreciation for God's plan of the gifts of sea glass and La Mer.
I want to wake up and connect with a higher power, the Goddess of the Stock Market and Brazilian Carefree wavy hair. I want to sit in child's pose and meditate on three things of gratitude while drinking San Pellegrino and then eat octopus and lobster flooded in olive oil . I want to feel a lightness and heightened sense of awareness that life is not just passing me by and I am living in a full state of consciousness and a tackled to do list of meaningful work.
I want to read the books that make you write down passages and have to run home to ferociously tear through. I want to listen to the music about sex and love that speaks to you and makes you feel glad you are alive.
I want to appreciate the nighttime and live like a mermaid where your cellphone will break if it touches the water by drinking really good wine with beautiful people who you love for no other reason than the way you feel around them. I want to talk about hopes and dreams and not hate those that go after them but instead just ask how.
Sunday, March 30, 2014
You Do not Have a Therapist? How have you not fallen off a cliff trampled by the raging homicidal thoughts that thoughts that pummel in and out of your platinum studded brain?
I am fascinated by those that do not have therapists and am even more so curious as to what they do with the money that they do not spend on support.
I have had a therapist and a gem stone healer since the 2nd grade and would essentially go crazy without them by virtue of the fact that it is not ladylike or considered a decorum of marriage material to manifest as deranged.
Who else would I tell that I refuse to flush toilets and who would I read my poems to about incest and carefully thought out orphan kidnappings to?
My therapists are my audience whom I test out my plots to murder my child and acquire a tattoo with a powerful passage from the Old Testament and create fake employment at DisneyLand inspired by Casey Anthony with better makeup and a more attractive legal team who's story gets retweeted more than Amanda Knox
Is the money saved on therapy used to buy more drugs to continue the disillusioned pathetic existence? Potentially. Im not going to lie, unless under oath, but I am rifled with Shakespearean jealously that drives girl's in high school to spread nasty rumors with those that can maintain the extra SwissFrancs for drugs and tell their rape fantasies to their friends and followers like normal people.
Therapist, even though I hate you because myself and my vapid psychotic alcoholic hotel hopping pill popping contemporaries fund your children's tuition at Camp Laurel and financed your home on the wrong side of the Palisades- You give me credit for existing and sometimes, thats a significant accomplishment. I love you I mean it.
I have had a therapist and a gem stone healer since the 2nd grade and would essentially go crazy without them by virtue of the fact that it is not ladylike or considered a decorum of marriage material to manifest as deranged.
Who else would I tell that I refuse to flush toilets and who would I read my poems to about incest and carefully thought out orphan kidnappings to?
My therapists are my audience whom I test out my plots to murder my child and acquire a tattoo with a powerful passage from the Old Testament and create fake employment at DisneyLand inspired by Casey Anthony with better makeup and a more attractive legal team who's story gets retweeted more than Amanda Knox
Is the money saved on therapy used to buy more drugs to continue the disillusioned pathetic existence? Potentially. Im not going to lie, unless under oath, but I am rifled with Shakespearean jealously that drives girl's in high school to spread nasty rumors with those that can maintain the extra SwissFrancs for drugs and tell their rape fantasies to their friends and followers like normal people.
Therapist, even though I hate you because myself and my vapid psychotic alcoholic hotel hopping pill popping contemporaries fund your children's tuition at Camp Laurel and financed your home on the wrong side of the Palisades- You give me credit for existing and sometimes, thats a significant accomplishment. I love you I mean it.
Saturday, March 29, 2014
9 Meaningful Skills you should Have before you are 29 in under 15 minutes
A list of accomplishments and skills that one should master whether it be from Glamour Magazine to the Bible, always leave me sinking into the place of where I first started, nude, Hungry, Horny and confused and with the painstaking realization that like Laney Boggs in She's All that I am a waste of yearbook space.
There is a deep dark reckless depression of life passing you by that goes beyond the typical 18 year old woes of not having found a cure for cancer or not being able to get into SL with a simple nod to the bouncer.
I wrote my application to Oxford on these very issues that plagued my existence and they respectfully declined my delicate bi polar prose, but left me on the Wait List because of the self drawn charcoal nudes that I drew of myself with a hidden shadowy undertone that highlighted my pubes.
The British have always had an appreciation for fine art and full shrubbery.
I own the manipulated truth that my skill set of what it means to be a meaningful participant in society do not go beyond rolling a phenom joint at a middle school level and knowing all of the names of the Barnes and Noble staff assigned specifically for the self help section. Two Words. Who Cares? As long as I can have a prosecco and Xanax at the Russian Tea Room and not have any responsibilities besides not being a cunt to my doorman then I should have an attitude of gratitude and get the fuck over it.
With my team of cracked out bi sexual Hackers and likeminded bulimic interns, I have developed a bouquet of cocaine that all of the glitter therapy enthusiasts can aspire to. They say if everyone can have it, I dont want it. I say, if everyone can Have it I already do, so what else can I have.
And so. Ipso Facto.
The sheer lack of life experience from not getting lost in a Village in HO Chi Minh surviving only on Bamboo leaves and foxhole prayers to God had left me wondering
is there more to life than being really really ridiculous? The self creation of personality disorders and anxiety is perhaps a pent up disturbed suppressed notion that I am avoiding participating in the group because essentially everyone is boring? What skills then, can I inspire everyone to amass to for at least this moment, to continue with me on the journey of delusion and avoidance of reality. Because Con Edison, Mortgage, Rent, Ukraine, Work emails, green salads with dressing on the side in my vagina, the dishwasher, cable not working, dry cleaning place closed, lost bank cards, Dental Vision Benefits, CVS face wash, midterms, lectures, grad school applications, unflushed poop, sweat et cetera ad naseum is painful, uninteresting, and should be avoided with every ounce of Herculean human strength,
1. Be able to critically and effectively explain your favorite painting in English and Mandarin without using the word like, a curse word, or vacuum
2. Acquire 6 pack abs and be able to differentiate between Johnny Walker Black and Blue blindfolded
3. Name all of the elements on the periodic table.
4. Be very good at oral sex to both sexes.
5. Have a short collection of poetry written, which takes approximately 15 minutes.
6. Have a website
7. Have an opinion on the War in Iraq and deep rooted political religious beliefs in a cause
8. Be a pillar of the community by doing service for someone poor
9. have several friends that you met in a jacuzzi, in a sandbox, at Cipprianni's or that is younger than twelve
There is a deep dark reckless depression of life passing you by that goes beyond the typical 18 year old woes of not having found a cure for cancer or not being able to get into SL with a simple nod to the bouncer.
I wrote my application to Oxford on these very issues that plagued my existence and they respectfully declined my delicate bi polar prose, but left me on the Wait List because of the self drawn charcoal nudes that I drew of myself with a hidden shadowy undertone that highlighted my pubes.
The British have always had an appreciation for fine art and full shrubbery.
I own the manipulated truth that my skill set of what it means to be a meaningful participant in society do not go beyond rolling a phenom joint at a middle school level and knowing all of the names of the Barnes and Noble staff assigned specifically for the self help section. Two Words. Who Cares? As long as I can have a prosecco and Xanax at the Russian Tea Room and not have any responsibilities besides not being a cunt to my doorman then I should have an attitude of gratitude and get the fuck over it.
With my team of cracked out bi sexual Hackers and likeminded bulimic interns, I have developed a bouquet of cocaine that all of the glitter therapy enthusiasts can aspire to. They say if everyone can have it, I dont want it. I say, if everyone can Have it I already do, so what else can I have.
And so. Ipso Facto.
The sheer lack of life experience from not getting lost in a Village in HO Chi Minh surviving only on Bamboo leaves and foxhole prayers to God had left me wondering
is there more to life than being really really ridiculous? The self creation of personality disorders and anxiety is perhaps a pent up disturbed suppressed notion that I am avoiding participating in the group because essentially everyone is boring? What skills then, can I inspire everyone to amass to for at least this moment, to continue with me on the journey of delusion and avoidance of reality. Because Con Edison, Mortgage, Rent, Ukraine, Work emails, green salads with dressing on the side in my vagina, the dishwasher, cable not working, dry cleaning place closed, lost bank cards, Dental Vision Benefits, CVS face wash, midterms, lectures, grad school applications, unflushed poop, sweat et cetera ad naseum is painful, uninteresting, and should be avoided with every ounce of Herculean human strength,
1. Be able to critically and effectively explain your favorite painting in English and Mandarin without using the word like, a curse word, or vacuum
2. Acquire 6 pack abs and be able to differentiate between Johnny Walker Black and Blue blindfolded
3. Name all of the elements on the periodic table.
4. Be very good at oral sex to both sexes.
5. Have a short collection of poetry written, which takes approximately 15 minutes.
6. Have a website
7. Have an opinion on the War in Iraq and deep rooted political religious beliefs in a cause
8. Be a pillar of the community by doing service for someone poor
9. have several friends that you met in a jacuzzi, in a sandbox, at Cipprianni's or that is younger than twelve
Friday, March 28, 2014
Pros and Cons of Working in an Office Rubix Cube
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Thursday, March 27, 2014
Beb Whats your Claim to Fame?
I have many a claim to fame:
Here are some of the highlights
I had the most interesting suicide notes of my Sorority all in Helvetica
I only go on dates with people with a 600K networth and have unresolved anger issues with their mother that border on a heavy sexual obsession.
I regularly finger myself to Every Article in Town in Country and Sheik el Shawsi's Epic Biography
I can say Babe I cost 500 dollars an hour and do not do the Tush in Russian, Arabic, French, Italian, Spanish, Mandarin, and several Caribbean Dialects
I am currently re writing a New Amelia Bedelia series for pre teens, as she is one of my personal heroes of my early childhood and early onset adulthood. The series will maintain the same structure of Amelia's taking everything literally and readers will follow her as she transitions from a kind confused retarded suburban maid to a manic social climbing socialite who waits outside Goldman Sachs for the low tier bankers to materialize and becomes a bottle service Girl at the Polo Lounge. Inspiring.
I have watched every episode of Boy Meets World 35 times and Mr. Feeny is my godfather.
Here are some of the highlights
I had the most interesting suicide notes of my Sorority all in Helvetica
I only go on dates with people with a 600K networth and have unresolved anger issues with their mother that border on a heavy sexual obsession.
I regularly finger myself to Every Article in Town in Country and Sheik el Shawsi's Epic Biography
I can say Babe I cost 500 dollars an hour and do not do the Tush in Russian, Arabic, French, Italian, Spanish, Mandarin, and several Caribbean Dialects
I am currently re writing a New Amelia Bedelia series for pre teens, as she is one of my personal heroes of my early childhood and early onset adulthood. The series will maintain the same structure of Amelia's taking everything literally and readers will follow her as she transitions from a kind confused retarded suburban maid to a manic social climbing socialite who waits outside Goldman Sachs for the low tier bankers to materialize and becomes a bottle service Girl at the Polo Lounge. Inspiring.
I have watched every episode of Boy Meets World 35 times and Mr. Feeny is my godfather.
My Stolen Identity and why I am Not Mad on Vacation
Alas, it appears that my identity was stolen and truth be told I feel sorry for them. Who would want the painful burden of being diagnosed with tourettes, a trashy wardrobe, lightly slashed wrists, a penchant to be beaten in the bedroom and overall lack of proper social graces whilst socializing with likeminded homeless people and ambassadors from Malta and other arbitrary random miniscule countries of the United Nordic Nawsty Nations?
Ipso facto, some fat freak lit tra lay clit tra lay procured my password which is my own fault since It has been the same since pre kindergarden "911wasanInsideJob" and I tell everyone including the taxi driver what it is for fear that I am uninteresting and that no one cares about my email, and thus, they do.
They logged into my G-lamourous mail and assumed my bi polar identity, emailed my banker to transfer a multi million dollars to their own bougie account, and to add insult to insulting injury, stole my social climbing social security number which is the same at the Devil's and opened up 3 homes in Williamsburg, as if I would ever purchase a home in the Ghetto.
Why am I not mad on Holiday?
Kanye West Eggs Over Yeezus the answer is as simple as 2x equals 4. hashtag I am a pre Algebra Genius.
Because I am a manic KGB agent with government assisted access into every locked international database including the Moon's, I can easily find this loser, render them incapable of ever posting on instagram again, blacklist them from every C List Restaurant slash club in Manhattan and off the coast of the Mediterranean by pinpointing their exact location, and creating a criminal record for them that says they were arrested for distributing unattractive child porn and orchestrating a drug infused gang bang with formerly seized drug Lord El Chapo right before his inevitable capture by my favorite FBI Agent Joe, who lets me pet his white tiger.
Ill be seeing you at Alcatraz and by the way you look disgusting in Orange but so I do I.
Au ReVoir Bitch.
Ipso facto, some fat freak lit tra lay clit tra lay procured my password which is my own fault since It has been the same since pre kindergarden "911wasanInsideJob" and I tell everyone including the taxi driver what it is for fear that I am uninteresting and that no one cares about my email, and thus, they do.
They logged into my G-lamourous mail and assumed my bi polar identity, emailed my banker to transfer a multi million dollars to their own bougie account, and to add insult to insulting injury, stole my social climbing social security number which is the same at the Devil's and opened up 3 homes in Williamsburg, as if I would ever purchase a home in the Ghetto.
Why am I not mad on Holiday?
Kanye West Eggs Over Yeezus the answer is as simple as 2x equals 4. hashtag I am a pre Algebra Genius.
Because I am a manic KGB agent with government assisted access into every locked international database including the Moon's, I can easily find this loser, render them incapable of ever posting on instagram again, blacklist them from every C List Restaurant slash club in Manhattan and off the coast of the Mediterranean by pinpointing their exact location, and creating a criminal record for them that says they were arrested for distributing unattractive child porn and orchestrating a drug infused gang bang with formerly seized drug Lord El Chapo right before his inevitable capture by my favorite FBI Agent Joe, who lets me pet his white tiger.
Ill be seeing you at Alcatraz and by the way you look disgusting in Orange but so I do I.
Au ReVoir Bitch.
Tuesday, March 25, 2014
March 25, 2014 To do List
1. Buy Perrier
2. Choreograph a Dance Routine replete with Jazz hands and "Bye Bye Bye" hands that can be Utilized for Alvin Ailey and Dance Moms and for the Single Teen Dads of Harlem Musical Reprise of Greased Lightening
3. Contribute meaningful rhetoric on C-Span in Ebonics
4. Differentiate my holes
5. Moderate a Panel Discussion on how Van Gogh's ear removal shaped contemporary Art; also on the Panel Greta Von Susteran, Suri Cruise, Gayle King, Chuy, David Foster Wallace, Gillian Flynn, Damian, Banksy, Prime Minister of St. Tropez, and Ariana Grande.
6. Call my Grandmother for money
7. Order Business Cards
8. Get my Vape Fixed by maintenance
9. Practice Arabic Vocab
10. Indulge in Cyber Sex with the chat feature with my opponents in online Chess. Hi My name is Marie Im 32 5'8 126 lbs blonde haired blue eyed and ready to get weird is typically my opening line.
11. Take my passport photo with Doo Rags
12. Be able to clearly articulate why Nato after World War 2 was Obsolete and why Oops I did it again was arguably the most transformative musical number that defined expression of female sexuality and empowerment for this delusional yet well dressed and creative generation
13. Write the Lyrics to Ludicras Whats your Fantasy in Calligraphy and give it to a homeless person.
What I did today: Based on a true Story
I am shocked that today's youth finds it boast worthy to brag that they woke up like this? So you woke up in a Klonopin haze sore from the fingering from a low Tier Bain Analyst sautéed with a mushy brain from late night Television and insomniac attempts to contemplate your strategy of how to appear not depressed when speaking to people. I weep at society and then weep harder because I contribute to the problem and the solution sounds boring and like Rosa Parks, Ghandi, Martin Luther King, Jesus Christ, Mel Gibson, Nicole Richie, Wolf Of Wall Street, Bernie Madeoff, Richard Nixon and Yasser Arafat will end up in grave trouble with the Letter of the Law.
I woke up at 8 am and recited the serenity prayer since it is my newest obsession to become God. I had a breakfast of sawdust laxatives lemonade and lucky charms splenda and a whole grain waffle without Milk. I wrote all of my food in my journal and then posted it to Xanga and to the Soul Cycle Website. I then posted an ad on Craigslist for someone to come over after work to run my bath and tell me jokes; qualifications, must have a modeling Contract with Ford and must be fluent in Russian.
Then I had my bodyguard take me to work 25 minutes late where I used the Secret Service Gym and stomped on my blackberry since my therapist Cancelled. I decided that it was a Michelle Branch just Kind of ordinary Day and proceeded to not do work but check buzzfeed, masturbate to FoxNews and my new Boyfriend's stock portfolio who beats me which I find acceptable since he bought me a Rolex, gives me Vicodin, writes mysogynistic rap about me and booked a trip to Paris except that he is in first Class and I am in coach because he didn't want to waste the Miles and found it crass to accept oral Sex oversees where there is no cell service rendering it capable of any live documentation for entrepreneurial endeavors much like the critically acclaimed Pamela Anderson Paris Hilton Kim Kardashian and Margaret Thatcher before me.
I wondered around the freezing cold of the city High from the adderal and my newly procured theatre tickets and went to my Narcotics Anonymous for the free snacks and the material- I also enjoy reading outloud with strangers, making up Aliasas; e.g Hi My name is June and I am addicted to quayludes and have fantasies about applying for an internship with the Mob. Additionally I practice developing new tics in the civilian World. I recently saw a well dressed Armani Suit HedgeFund Alcoholic tell a story about being drunk for the delivery of his own child and physically assault the obstetrician and did this which such inauthentic dramatic pause and hair tossing that I immediately stole as my own and plan to use this when I next awkwardly drown in my next social interaction.
I then proceeded to the theatre to meet my father to see a new production of pained youth in a Musical Format produced by a childhood friend because I support the arts and pride myself on having different edgy dramatic passionate contemporaries who understand the meaning of darkness whilst living in a full furnished 4 bedroom in Aspen. Nevertheless the show was to die for, not because I sat next to someone who told me he was cast on Season 4 as Revenge, which Immediately got me soaked, but because I was proud to call someone of my inner circle a legitimite lyricist who has more to discuss besides menial 9 to 5s and painful blowjobs. The show was about the painting Ed Hopper's the Nighthawks Come Alive; and what starts out as True Love ends like all great stories due, in a dark ditch of delusion and hatred.
Art is Pain. Art is Truth. I ran out of Money. A poem
As I walk down the glittery Moonlit Path, I look up at the Constellations and contemplate my own existence.
What is the core basis for my presence on this earth If I have no desire to give service to others unless it will be photographed?
I turn on my walkman to a self created Remix of Mozart and R. Kelly and feel the tears brim at my eyelids of my vapid anger that I could not get a Reservation at Le Cirque.
I scream at the Taxi Driver as the Meter Goes up up up as we sit in traffic behind a blazing fire truck saving a seizing pedophiliac with a penchant for little Romanian Girls.
Steak Frites.
Caviar.
Rolls Royce.
Wrist Slitting Finger Banging Cocaine Snorting Lonliness. LovelyNess.
Will you Still you love me as much as My wet nurse did? Lana Del Crazy?
What if I become ugly?
What If I am smarter than you are?
What would the best part of my eulogy be?
What font should my suicide note be Helvetica and Aria?
My Sat Tutor was my only true friend and I still owe him a check but I used that money to buy orbit gum which I swallowed all of much like your Ejaculation.
I suffer.
I isolate.
I dream.
I suppress.
I am an artist.
What is the core basis for my presence on this earth If I have no desire to give service to others unless it will be photographed?
I turn on my walkman to a self created Remix of Mozart and R. Kelly and feel the tears brim at my eyelids of my vapid anger that I could not get a Reservation at Le Cirque.
I scream at the Taxi Driver as the Meter Goes up up up as we sit in traffic behind a blazing fire truck saving a seizing pedophiliac with a penchant for little Romanian Girls.
Steak Frites.
Caviar.
Rolls Royce.
Wrist Slitting Finger Banging Cocaine Snorting Lonliness. LovelyNess.
Will you Still you love me as much as My wet nurse did? Lana Del Crazy?
What if I become ugly?
What If I am smarter than you are?
What would the best part of my eulogy be?
What font should my suicide note be Helvetica and Aria?
My Sat Tutor was my only true friend and I still owe him a check but I used that money to buy orbit gum which I swallowed all of much like your Ejaculation.
I suffer.
I isolate.
I dream.
I suppress.
I am an artist.
Not Trying to Steal your Boyfriend, Just Trying to Steal Your Inheritance and Acquire World Peace on my own terms
In my anthropologic manic quest to obtain a meaningful relationship filled with sending our children to Harvard Westlake laced in sexual Frusturation and trips to the the Cape,
I realized in the confines of my own pied a terre over my bottle of Cote Du Rhone de Klonopin, 16 cigs, a few laxatives and figs to truly flush out my system of Satan and High School Marijuana, and Real Housewives of Abu Dawbi Kill myself,
that the drug addicted alcoholic uncouth youth of this generation are boring and are arguably as bad at sex as one might picture sex between Michael Moore and Britney Spears during the filming of conspiracy liberal documentary Farenheit 911- which as a sidenote financed Moore's third home in ST. Tropez and I have a shady pathological liar of a source, who sells vicodin and is a rapper, who says that the multi million dollar fat fuck actually attempted to finger the teen pop sensation and continues to send her sexually aggressive text messages, which is my personal theory of what prompted her 2007 manic breakdown. This very theory was my basis for my thesis in my graduate degree in Psychology at Columbia to which I received an A minus, the equivalent of a Chanel passed down from a Grandmother. Its Chanel, but its used.
Message to the children: Stay away from liberals and from individuals who are not manically pursuing obtaining the body of Michaelangelo's wildly unknown masterpiece the David.
But I digress, I recently had a painful run in with an ex Sorority Sister from Duke who clearly has not come down from her Coke Binge from the 2004 Formal Weekend in Panama which already reeked of low class whores and people who cannot recite Charles Dickens nor any world renowned 20th Century Spiritual Healer Cc Eckhart Tolle house Cookie, Deepak Chakra, Gillian Flynn by heart blindfolded. Disgusted.
She was so freakishly peppy and tweaked that she seemed to had forgotten when she rudely accused me of stealing her Boyfriend in front of the entire American Black People Art in Europe Lecture replete with tears of temper Foam and Blood. I did NOT try to steal him, unlike the Frederick Fa Ki Ki Shampoo and Mabelline Eyeliner that I frequently snatch from le Duane Reade because I save my allowance for adderal and uber.
I was so thankful that I had the opportunity to remind her that darling, I was never trying to steal your boyfriend, it has always been about your father.
Because of my recent 6 pack due to a carefully concocted rigorous gluten free bulimia and bible study readings, I have come to a curious recognition that I am not interested in a relationship with your boyfriend I would much rather fuck your dad, but Why may you ask? But why not as you probe further into the confines of your small minded imagination filled with instagram filters and no profound sense of truth, passion and questions that keep you up at night of what it means to be alive and Why didn't Sammi Sweetheart on the Jersey Shore have a more dramatic story line replete with better accessories and a casual molestation story in her past?
Alas, your father might I assume has evolved into a gentlemen with a steady income and by that I mean a surplus of 600K per 6 months not counting any hidden assets or gambling winnings,
is not constantly on his phone,
votes Republican
and has a seemingly considerable non pretentious appreciation for the arts?
Call me your new mum as I have simply resigned from matriculating with anyone born before 1972, they pay the checks to the point of physically beating the waiter down before you can even see it, and are not offended by your rape fantasies or desire to not have sex and instead talk about David Foster Wallace and do a crossword puzzle.
I realized in the confines of my own pied a terre over my bottle of Cote Du Rhone de Klonopin, 16 cigs, a few laxatives and figs to truly flush out my system of Satan and High School Marijuana, and Real Housewives of Abu Dawbi Kill myself,
that the drug addicted alcoholic uncouth youth of this generation are boring and are arguably as bad at sex as one might picture sex between Michael Moore and Britney Spears during the filming of conspiracy liberal documentary Farenheit 911- which as a sidenote financed Moore's third home in ST. Tropez and I have a shady pathological liar of a source, who sells vicodin and is a rapper, who says that the multi million dollar fat fuck actually attempted to finger the teen pop sensation and continues to send her sexually aggressive text messages, which is my personal theory of what prompted her 2007 manic breakdown. This very theory was my basis for my thesis in my graduate degree in Psychology at Columbia to which I received an A minus, the equivalent of a Chanel passed down from a Grandmother. Its Chanel, but its used.
Message to the children: Stay away from liberals and from individuals who are not manically pursuing obtaining the body of Michaelangelo's wildly unknown masterpiece the David.
But I digress, I recently had a painful run in with an ex Sorority Sister from Duke who clearly has not come down from her Coke Binge from the 2004 Formal Weekend in Panama which already reeked of low class whores and people who cannot recite Charles Dickens nor any world renowned 20th Century Spiritual Healer Cc Eckhart Tolle house Cookie, Deepak Chakra, Gillian Flynn by heart blindfolded. Disgusted.
She was so freakishly peppy and tweaked that she seemed to had forgotten when she rudely accused me of stealing her Boyfriend in front of the entire American Black People Art in Europe Lecture replete with tears of temper Foam and Blood. I did NOT try to steal him, unlike the Frederick Fa Ki Ki Shampoo and Mabelline Eyeliner that I frequently snatch from le Duane Reade because I save my allowance for adderal and uber.
I was so thankful that I had the opportunity to remind her that darling, I was never trying to steal your boyfriend, it has always been about your father.
Because of my recent 6 pack due to a carefully concocted rigorous gluten free bulimia and bible study readings, I have come to a curious recognition that I am not interested in a relationship with your boyfriend I would much rather fuck your dad, but Why may you ask? But why not as you probe further into the confines of your small minded imagination filled with instagram filters and no profound sense of truth, passion and questions that keep you up at night of what it means to be alive and Why didn't Sammi Sweetheart on the Jersey Shore have a more dramatic story line replete with better accessories and a casual molestation story in her past?
Alas, your father might I assume has evolved into a gentlemen with a steady income and by that I mean a surplus of 600K per 6 months not counting any hidden assets or gambling winnings,
is not constantly on his phone,
votes Republican
and has a seemingly considerable non pretentious appreciation for the arts?
Call me your new mum as I have simply resigned from matriculating with anyone born before 1972, they pay the checks to the point of physically beating the waiter down before you can even see it, and are not offended by your rape fantasies or desire to not have sex and instead talk about David Foster Wallace and do a crossword puzzle.
Sunday, March 23, 2014
Casual Bulimic Drug Addicts with a Side order of Nazi Paraphernalia : A Love Story
Excerpt of
Chapter 5 of if Chanel Designed Heroin Needles:
Scene 1:
Year 2004
Time: 8:08 P.M
Place Location Common Room Dormitory Stocked with San Pellegrino Gargonzola Beans Cashews and Magazines only found at Teterboro Airport and the Gift Shop at the Frick and Conde Nasty.
I wasn't so much anti social I was set to boarding school on account of my parents preoccupation with their own self destructive marriage leaving myself and my twin sister to our own devices;
While I was attractive as an offer to go to South Beach, the weekend before finals; tempting and incredibly alluring yet ultimately was decided as passed upon for a more respectful responsible choice, although many, did dabble in my vagina.
I developed bulimia as a way of purging my distaste of the peers who surrounded me along with the inner turmoil I felt from my uncle's early onset sexual abuse; which of course was the reasoning behind my distrust of Jews and became a secret Neo Nazi Sympathizer. My uncle was my father's half brother, an heir to a small fortune that would only satisfy 3 not 4 children attending university at the doctorate level and trips to Europe thrice a season.
Gauche yet Vital Questions for Spring 2014
Everynight I stay up writing in my journal against the moonlight in my overheated room full of self loathing and vast confusion over the morbid deterioration of today's youth who lack any general sense of what it means to feel and to love with full throttled unconditional passion for anything other than their own black cards and white lines
Then I put on my R. Kelly Soundtrack and masturbate to my own reflection whilst prepping for the Williamsburg Underground Rave Headlined by Avvici Puccinni the Remix Date Rape and Die Fledermaus: An Opera A love Story We're Hipster Get into it.
2. What are some interesting soft core erotic foreign porn short films with a cousin once removed incestual subplot that takes place in the flapper era?
3. Why didnt LC take that Internship in Paris
4. Why it is a pre requisite that every housekeeper steal your drugs? Was their a memo in the West Indies that was forwarded to them via palm pilot?
5. Why is it inappropriate to insist on going to Hardvard Westlake prom?
6. If I pee in the jacuzzi will it be apparent to the other patrons? And if so what is the appropriate means of informing them of this?
7. Why do men who suffer from Oedipus Complexes have no redeeming qualities?
8. What would happen to my physical health if I continued to never brush my teeth wear underwear and douche with prosecco?
9. When at dinner with powerful Asians, is it Gauche to bring up Crazy Rich Asians book
Wednesday, March 19, 2014
Sex Drugs and Too Busy For you Bitch
Let me make one thing Crystal Meth Clear. New York Women are so busy pretending to be busy that they are not busy at all and end up on their phones pondering their meaningless existence or are so incredibly un self aware that they lack the inability to realize that they are not having fun. I often fall prey to this problem because no one likes a loser, But I am changing the stigma and owning my loserdom-perignon because I want to only roll deep with people who like to smoke marjuana and rock Balenciaga and not maintain a delusional status of maintaining plans with people who are interesting.
It seems a testament of delusional social status to pretend to be fully booked until Memorial Weekend. I am here to tell you right now that sitting on a restaurant with basic whores who take Nyquil and Read Us Weekly and Rock Coach bags and are from Westchester while you sit on instagram and manically not like everyone's photo's does not count as a plan. Cancel. It is ok to have a spontaneous schedule because spontaneity, cocaine, lust, adventure, blood and ice cream that is thrown up (double the treat) is where the Road Dahl magic happens.
I challenge you to take personal inventory of your false plans and actually do meaningful activities and partake in fulfilling drug use, partying, and intellectual conversation with people who matter to the core of your very heart and soul, and to stop pretending that you are so busy. The joke is over, play with your friends, not people who you believe should be your friends. Ridiculous as the liberal media elite.
It seems a testament of delusional social status to pretend to be fully booked until Memorial Weekend. I am here to tell you right now that sitting on a restaurant with basic whores who take Nyquil and Read Us Weekly and Rock Coach bags and are from Westchester while you sit on instagram and manically not like everyone's photo's does not count as a plan. Cancel. It is ok to have a spontaneous schedule because spontaneity, cocaine, lust, adventure, blood and ice cream that is thrown up (double the treat) is where the Road Dahl magic happens.
I challenge you to take personal inventory of your false plans and actually do meaningful activities and partake in fulfilling drug use, partying, and intellectual conversation with people who matter to the core of your very heart and soul, and to stop pretending that you are so busy. The joke is over, play with your friends, not people who you believe should be your friends. Ridiculous as the liberal media elite.
A Poem Part 2
The Ashtray Shatters as she whips it across the room
Cigarettes lay all over the Carpet
Its Paris and We are poor and Angry
Its Not a Revolution Because No one cares about anything
The Anger she has about no one caring is as clear as the sharp edges of the glass of the ash tray
Save me
Save me
Save me
Cigarettes lay all over the Carpet
Its Paris and We are poor and Angry
Its Not a Revolution Because No one cares about anything
The Anger she has about no one caring is as clear as the sharp edges of the glass of the ash tray
Save me
Save me
Save me
A Poem
As I watch the clock at the dinner table tick tock tick tock tick tock- I silently count the minutes until it is 10:23 and I can retire to my canopy to dream of a land of ponies and magic where Father does not scream.
Tick Tock Tick Tock
My brother smiles and a set of white teeth that look like orphans sleeping manifest and I am at Peace
I recite my favorite bible passage in my Head: In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.' – Jesus (John 16:33),"
I think about the delusion of at all and wonder when I can start living and stop existing
Tick Tick Tock
Time passes. Time Marches On.
Everything Stays the Same.
We are older.
We are not smarter.
I want to stay in my canopy and dream of ponies.
Tick Tock Tick Tock
My brother smiles and a set of white teeth that look like orphans sleeping manifest and I am at Peace
I recite my favorite bible passage in my Head: In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.' – Jesus (John 16:33),"
I think about the delusion of at all and wonder when I can start living and stop existing
Tick Tick Tock
Time passes. Time Marches On.
Everything Stays the Same.
We are older.
We are not smarter.
I want to stay in my canopy and dream of ponies.
Glittery Conspiracy The Malaysian Missing Plane
Alas, the missing Plane that has captivated America's attention leaves me greatly disturbed because the focus of critical national importance has shifted to something other than myself. Shudder, The atrocity of this situation is frusturating because here I am, alone, sexually mal-abused, distraught, and all anyone in the liberal media elite seems to be concerned with are a bunch of mid tier foreigners flying away from a country that no one has ever heard of nor has a real World season ever been filmed in. Malaysian me crazy.
Ipso Facto, according to my research, equipped with my Baccarat cum stained magnifying glass and E-bay purchased private investigator license that I laminated with my Lisa Frank glitter set, I followed the white brick road crystallized fact pattern and determine that:
The flight was a low grade poorly thought out attempted bachelor party in Hong Kong orchestrated by mid level Asian Socialites who were angered that during a power outage were not able to procure the most recent alligator Jimmy Choo's and called their boyfriends' to complain. Their boyfriends, bored at work and sexually frusturated, lost a bet with their unlike minded colleague who suffers from tourettes and a poorly decorated living room, were rendered incapable of completing the task of sucking eachother's penises and placing the footage on youtube, so they choose option 2; stealing a plane, to add amusement to injury, they successfully purchased stolen passports as a joke. They then drunk on expensive booze and erotic charge, booked tickets to Sao Paolo where the hookers are cheaper than hamburgers and arguably as attractive as Christie Brinkley and physically stole the plane. Will provide updates via palm pilot.
Ipso Facto, according to my research, equipped with my Baccarat cum stained magnifying glass and E-bay purchased private investigator license that I laminated with my Lisa Frank glitter set, I followed the white brick road crystallized fact pattern and determine that:
The flight was a low grade poorly thought out attempted bachelor party in Hong Kong orchestrated by mid level Asian Socialites who were angered that during a power outage were not able to procure the most recent alligator Jimmy Choo's and called their boyfriends' to complain. Their boyfriends, bored at work and sexually frusturated, lost a bet with their unlike minded colleague who suffers from tourettes and a poorly decorated living room, were rendered incapable of completing the task of sucking eachother's penises and placing the footage on youtube, so they choose option 2; stealing a plane, to add amusement to injury, they successfully purchased stolen passports as a joke. They then drunk on expensive booze and erotic charge, booked tickets to Sao Paolo where the hookers are cheaper than hamburgers and arguably as attractive as Christie Brinkley and physically stole the plane. Will provide updates via palm pilot.
Sunday, March 16, 2014
7 Reasons why I would be a Phenom Exercise Instructor
Those that Cant do, Teach and those that Cant Teach, dwindle their Trustfunds and sell their eggs on Craigslist.
Alas, I would be a magnetically interesting exercise instructor- despite my asbergers, lack of hand eye coordination and overall inability to focus on anything that doesn't have to do with People who have homes in Dubai and or stock in Evian for more than a nano -
Ipso Facto
I like to jump up and down and have been told by many of my friends, mostly my therapists, that not only am I a very special person but that I am a great motivator. I have the capability of assisting people make meaningful change in their pathetic existences. Mais Comment?
By maintaining the lifestyle I have nearly perfected yet edit daily which consists of a moderate to heavy injection of cocaine karatay pilatays and lattays sautéed in Kale and rich people's poop. This method can be modified to fit even the people pretending to be the busiest.
Exercise instructors Only need to Look Good and Plagiarize Rumi: So Vomit your Amuse Bouche and Set your Life on Fire:
1. I only wear shirts that showcase my Politically Incorrect Beliefs and Pretentious Latin Sayings; i.e Guns, Illegal Mexicans and the 4th Amendment; Et Cetera Ad Naseum
2. I only play music from rappers that have been in Jail for tax Evasion and molestation and Britney Spears, the Spice Girls and Disclosure Latch
3. I use Ciroc in my water bottle and frequently fall thereby enforcing my students to constantly have to pick me up.
4. I have a degree in Holistic Anorexia from the New School and an acupuncture practice that I purchased on the internet where the needles can also be used for heroin injections, I share the space with the Tinder Office in Nolita.
5. Ultimately I was put on God's green earth to help people remove their celluite along with their democratic Voting Tendencies and work towards peace in War Torn Syria. I have a sweet disposition and am always looking for new friends from all walks of life as long as they are skinny and rich and have interesting restaurant recommendations and unresolved daddy issues stemming from a possible entertaining childhood light molestation scenario rendering a creation of this generation's next poet.
6. I have a plethora of knowledge regarding diet pills CoEnzymeQ10 and cholestrol medication
7. I speak Arabic
Alas, I would be a magnetically interesting exercise instructor- despite my asbergers, lack of hand eye coordination and overall inability to focus on anything that doesn't have to do with People who have homes in Dubai and or stock in Evian for more than a nano -
Ipso Facto
I like to jump up and down and have been told by many of my friends, mostly my therapists, that not only am I a very special person but that I am a great motivator. I have the capability of assisting people make meaningful change in their pathetic existences. Mais Comment?
By maintaining the lifestyle I have nearly perfected yet edit daily which consists of a moderate to heavy injection of cocaine karatay pilatays and lattays sautéed in Kale and rich people's poop. This method can be modified to fit even the people pretending to be the busiest.
Exercise instructors Only need to Look Good and Plagiarize Rumi: So Vomit your Amuse Bouche and Set your Life on Fire:
1. I only wear shirts that showcase my Politically Incorrect Beliefs and Pretentious Latin Sayings; i.e Guns, Illegal Mexicans and the 4th Amendment; Et Cetera Ad Naseum
2. I only play music from rappers that have been in Jail for tax Evasion and molestation and Britney Spears, the Spice Girls and Disclosure Latch
3. I use Ciroc in my water bottle and frequently fall thereby enforcing my students to constantly have to pick me up.
4. I have a degree in Holistic Anorexia from the New School and an acupuncture practice that I purchased on the internet where the needles can also be used for heroin injections, I share the space with the Tinder Office in Nolita.
5. Ultimately I was put on God's green earth to help people remove their celluite along with their democratic Voting Tendencies and work towards peace in War Torn Syria. I have a sweet disposition and am always looking for new friends from all walks of life as long as they are skinny and rich and have interesting restaurant recommendations and unresolved daddy issues stemming from a possible entertaining childhood light molestation scenario rendering a creation of this generation's next poet.
6. I have a plethora of knowledge regarding diet pills CoEnzymeQ10 and cholestrol medication
7. I speak Arabic
Fiscally Conservative and Emotionally Unstable: Soul Cycle Comes to Washington DC
It is apparent that in my highly neurotic erotic bulimic alcoholic existence that involves exercising, inside trading, avoiding Con Edison and constantly apologizing to my father, I have found some limited solace spinning at soul cycle in a dark room going to nowhere avoiding reality and pretending that I am not vapid.
Alas, in my forever reaching objective of never doing any meaningful work coupled with my manic depression over the fact that the bug that I implanted into my client's home because she believes that her husband does PR for Hezbollah went missing. It has been a rough week at GlitterTherapy Headquarters, and I have not even mentioned the coach purse that I left on the cross town bus that was filled with Oxycontin which I stole from my sorority sister.
I decided to call in sick this past Friday and uber jetted it to Washington DC where I acquired a nanny gig for Sasha and Malia for Spring 2014. My blonde intern with a gambling addiction and a penchant for gay porn also mentioned to me that soul cycle was opening up in DC and since I am a LEO performer by nature who would stop at nothing including poisoning her own child to obtain any kind of fame immediately signed up to dance whilst the First Girls were in Geometry
.
I of course chose two songs to reflect my sweet disposition and manic asbergers; DMX "you are all going to make me lose my mind" and the profound aria which Traviata dies to from the Tuberculosis for some choice push ups. I also included a fingering movement to demonstrate my sexual frustration to which I experience both on and off the bike.
I wore my Versace by LuluLemon H to the M workout Nazi paraphernalia replete with a glitter encrusted swastika down my arm and proceeded to shave my eyebrows in the ladies locker room since I forgot to wax. I walked into the audition with blood dripping down my face and vomit on the crust of my lips and was ready to tap back. In my vicodin haze and ambitious mentality reminiscent of an Southern Solider in the Civil War desperate to keep his slaves, my presence in the room was unavoidable.
I of course introduced myself by my StageName and Instagram handle #GlitterTherapy and told the Soul Cycle Founders that they had hot bodies asked if they would be interested in Vaping in my Suite Jacuzzi at the 4 Seasons next to the Capital? They were not, and handed me a towellette to wipe the blood off my face.
It was Politics. It was Dirty It was Soul. I look forward to seeing you in my class. Namaste Bitch.
Alas, in my forever reaching objective of never doing any meaningful work coupled with my manic depression over the fact that the bug that I implanted into my client's home because she believes that her husband does PR for Hezbollah went missing. It has been a rough week at GlitterTherapy Headquarters, and I have not even mentioned the coach purse that I left on the cross town bus that was filled with Oxycontin which I stole from my sorority sister.
I decided to call in sick this past Friday and uber jetted it to Washington DC where I acquired a nanny gig for Sasha and Malia for Spring 2014. My blonde intern with a gambling addiction and a penchant for gay porn also mentioned to me that soul cycle was opening up in DC and since I am a LEO performer by nature who would stop at nothing including poisoning her own child to obtain any kind of fame immediately signed up to dance whilst the First Girls were in Geometry
.
I of course chose two songs to reflect my sweet disposition and manic asbergers; DMX "you are all going to make me lose my mind" and the profound aria which Traviata dies to from the Tuberculosis for some choice push ups. I also included a fingering movement to demonstrate my sexual frustration to which I experience both on and off the bike.
I wore my Versace by LuluLemon H to the M workout Nazi paraphernalia replete with a glitter encrusted swastika down my arm and proceeded to shave my eyebrows in the ladies locker room since I forgot to wax. I walked into the audition with blood dripping down my face and vomit on the crust of my lips and was ready to tap back. In my vicodin haze and ambitious mentality reminiscent of an Southern Solider in the Civil War desperate to keep his slaves, my presence in the room was unavoidable.
I of course introduced myself by my StageName and Instagram handle #GlitterTherapy and told the Soul Cycle Founders that they had hot bodies asked if they would be interested in Vaping in my Suite Jacuzzi at the 4 Seasons next to the Capital? They were not, and handed me a towellette to wipe the blood off my face.
It was Politics. It was Dirty It was Soul. I look forward to seeing you in my class. Namaste Bitch.
Thursday, March 13, 2014
Emotional Support Animals and Adult Dysfunction
Alas, my therapist came to me with disturbing news that she no longer is equipped to handle my case by herself. Lazy? Annoying? Anorexic? A great philosopher of our time said that Life is not all Diamonds and Rosay, and my dear Bitch without a degree to speak of, this here applies to you. Sorry my life is interesting and I want to kill myself.
This was not the first time that a therapist feels that my case too much too handle. And truth be told, I am somewhat flattered. Allow me to take an Acid Trip down memory lane when I was 15 years old, a quiet freshman in high school with a penchant for suicide notes and gargonzola beans.
My teen therapist had just released a book called: Why Cant I have my Trust Fund Immediately and Vomit When I please? Understanding the Correlation of Bulimia and Young Money: I immediately wanted her to be my shrink, but alas she was not taking on any new clients. When she heard about my case however, what with my Mother’s B list modeling career side ordered with kleptomania and painkillers she cleared her schedule and I was squeezed in between Greta Van Susteran and Elizabeth Olsen. But she too could no longer could handle my case which was a good thing since pinkberry closed next to her office and she did not let me Instagram during sessions.
So here we are. Recently I have purchased a mediocre pied a tere with money that exists within the confines of my own imagination and whats left over of what I took from Enron replete with 3rd tier art work mostly from the graffiti scene to showcase my newfound appreciation for downtown chic. I am attempting the possibility of a life where I go of my pseudo Ivy League pretentiousness whilst maintaining a nose with enough blow to rival the bunny slope in Aspen and the mindset that I would rather drink paint if you cannot name all of the characters in La Traviata.
And so, I have my two standard poodles, Pucci and Gucci to which the building management replied that I am not able to maintain both dogs in my pied. Comme Sa Dice Obnoxious? This plan was easily fixable as I called my cracked out bisexual actual Psychiastrist MD DDS 4 Squared Little Shop of Horrors who answers my callsat 10:00 Pm Because she isn’t married but is skinny which is all extremely questionable. She immediately registered my dogs as Emotional Support Animals which is classified under the 1973 Reagan Administration Act to protect Rich kids with Asbergers who lack social graces and are not able to withstand social decorum. A fun note is I also get to take them on the plane but I only fly private because of all the fireworks and Meth that are with me at all times but on the off chance I want to fuck with the security system and LAX with my Cartier Bracelets laced with bullets, I will be sure to have my dogs in tow.
March Goals
Teach Soul Cycle To Al- Queada
Find the lost Malaysian Plane
Design a clothing line geared toward those who have just been released from Rikers
Send more Thank you notes
Become more actively involved in raising money for meaningless causes
acquire a pet tiger
give more blow jobs in the 4 seasons swimming pool
take new passport photos with a doo rag
establish a contact with the Russian Mob
Babysit for Sasha and Malia Obama
take new passport photos with a doo rag
establish a contact with the Russian Mob
Babysit for Sasha and Malia Obama
Turkish Vogue and Recovery- the 8 Fold 8 Ball 8 Pack path to Truth and Enlightenment
Sex and the Soul Cycle. E.E Cummings Said it Best, but I helped him since I majored in Literature and whorish Tendencies at Dartmouth. “Here is the deepest Secret Everyone Knows, higher than soul cycle can hope, or mind can hide, Akin Akman is Everything and I carry you in my heart”.
Monday, March 10, 2014
Sorry for the delay but I hate working
Essentially I have come to the painstaking realization that blogspot simply reeks of a period stain so I am in the process of changing the steve madden platform to a website that my father bought for me in exchange for me working on my tourettes and asbergers,
Alas, since I cannot get thru a customer service call on Godaddy without bursting into tears and telling them my entire life story from the point where I didnt get the appropriate glitter colors in 8th grade for my binder to when I have a ridiculously mediocre handjob to the pilot on the way to the Cape, I will have to stick to bloodspot for now.
Thank you for your Cracked out Patience.
See you at the St. Regis
Alas, since I cannot get thru a customer service call on Godaddy without bursting into tears and telling them my entire life story from the point where I didnt get the appropriate glitter colors in 8th grade for my binder to when I have a ridiculously mediocre handjob to the pilot on the way to the Cape, I will have to stick to bloodspot for now.
Thank you for your Cracked out Patience.
See you at the St. Regis
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