May Goals Its Gonna be May

Talk to God at Work

Bedazzle my vibrator with Van Cleef Crystals and Meth

Assume a Jamaican Alias and Take a passport photo with doo rags

Contemplate an effective means of jacking the lottery system

liquidate my assets into pennies and fill the Jacuzzi with them

Brush my teeth

Crush up my cocaine and wear it as makeup for a numb face

Chainsmoke outside Equinox

Utilize Racial Slurs more effectively in emails

Manipulate my parents into getting my trust fund exchanged into Swiss Francs so I can buy a pony and a mac

All the girls want to Fuck me But I am really into Jesus Right Now.

If that didnt grab your attention deficit disorder, than I do not know what will, but it recently occurred to me and my housekeeper that my wealthy Silicon Valley Angel Slash Devil Investor Neighbor with a house in the Hamptons and a bougie art collection was sexy and with my recent track record most likely Bisexual who enjoys hiking and doesn't understand that If its not Cartier it might as well be from Claire's Fucking Accessories.

 I do not know anyone with more asbergers than myself and I do not care if your balls are shaped like absurd triangles with which I can solve the pythagorean theorem on avec my tongue,  but if he can provide the lifestyle to which I am accustomed replete with a wine cellar that requires a GPS and a full Jazz band that travels with us at all times, I am, like my sorority Delta Tau Phi, Down to Fuck.

Ipso Facto, I gave him the sexy eyes in my elevator at the Carlyle to which the doorman in the elevator started laughing to himself so hard that he nearly choked rendering it necessary that I perform a Heimlich maneuver, but I did not, Why?
 Because for generations, my Family and Heimlich's family have had a rather epic Feud for generations reminiscent of The Capulets and the Montague's, so I let him suffer, not to mention the fact that he was making fun of yours truly; just a manic confused alcoholic who gives sexy eyes that also appear to mirror a Seizure.

Neighbor asked me if I was alright, and since I am trying to do less and not act with such aggressive intensity that every conversation may as well be about Columbine and orphanage rape in Romania, I responded. Yes Absolutely, I am Gucci, would you like to have a Nightcap with me in My Suite? I have Champagne and Xanax and we could vape in the Jacuzzi and talk about Republican Values using Racial Slurs and then watch French Porn and discuss our abandonment issues?

Ah. He said. Im actually really into Jesus Right now. Have a good evening; and ran down the hallway; not knowing if the conversation that had just occurred was just a figment of his imagination. It was not.

From Child Support to Alimony: Not interested in any Other Means of Income

Alas, as I was wondering down the Streets of the Champs Elysses After having shoplifted several items from the Louvre Gift Shop and made a rather aggressive attempt to have dry sex with One of the curators whom I was certain I was his mother in another life; I realized that I was't necessarily interested in returning back to the states to resume Murray Hill Mimosas and Mediocrity. Call it My Diane Lane Under the Tuscan Sun moment, as I too missed my Asian Lesbian BFF with the recently adopted daughter and wanted nothing less than to return to my Boyfriend with uncomfortably shaped balls and a less than impressive address; I doubt our children would barely be accepted to a 2nd tier pre school. Shudder.

But since, I am an actress and practicing asking for what I want by living life to the fullest sans discipline, responsibility, birth control, con edison, and liberal cellulite laden basic bitches by virtue of the notion that they cant name all of the corresponding presidents on each of the American Dollars, I decided that I would stay in Paris for awhile and assume another Alias; a recently divorced American with no skills other than baking burnt chocolate chip cookies lightly dusted with Ganja and PCP and the self creator of a book club where the only members are hookers whom I met at Lavo. 

A tout a fucking leure. 

She was a Force to be Reckoned with, as she Wore Faux Fur to the Palm Too for Example

One of my personal objectives whilst maintaining a drugged out existence in a Gang who lives in the Penthouse and wears Balmain but has scars from personal inflections of pain, mental illness, and keeps knives under the mattress for a repressed childhood nightmare that the room service person Juan will rape me under that room service rolly table, is that I provide electrifying shock value to those I come into contact with.
For this reason I take a fearless moral inventory in admitting that my ultimate character defect is trying to fuck celebrities and maintain an acute intellectual demeanor which reflects my Palisades low key laid back up bringing sauteed in a remix of traditional family johnny walker black briefcase aligator shoes Financial Times Republican Family values.

Vladimir Putin's Workout Playlist "The only thing that interests me about the US is Tupac, and I don't need a visa' for that"

Greetings from the Maldives.
I decided to forgo my employment and it was due time for a holiday since I had been working in my new place of business for a multy milly minutes and it was I decided, due time. It was stressful enough to determine the location of the bathroom and which colleague has the most money with a single brother dumb enough to Buy me a Rolex and entertain the possibility of long walks on the beach and putting cigars up my vagina.

 Putin's nephew has a poorly decorated villa in the Maldives and I decided to Uber Jet it out of here on my white girl wasted Black Card encrusted with dirty cocaine rocks and sephora eyeshadow- and charged it to the Columbian Cartel; my internship for the summer. Putin's nephew and I go way back to the 8th grade when I received my first Alias as Jane Burroughs, an assignment completely concocted out of the confines of my own imagination purely for the purpose of excusing myself from geometry to both throw up my already vomited lunch and finger myself to Nick Carter from the critically acclaimed BackStreet Boys. He was the only Russian in my class and convinced me to commit treason against my government and join the KGB, which I refused to do purely on the reason that the term "mole" sounds like something that poor people have on their bodies.
 It was a violent masturbatory episode regarding the Nick Carter autoerotic asphyxiation,  as I could not get passed the notion that a teen pop idol sensation would electrify my raging prudish hormones, as I would have preferred to be turned on by Rasputin or Wolf Blitzer.

I digress.
In the Maldives where the water is as clear as Brand Name Xanax and the breeze is as cool calm and collected as one disposition should be when encountered with an alcoholic ex Husband- I came across Vladimir killing it on the elliptical in his Russian Torture Chamber like gymnasiam replete with an acquariam and a Russian Blonde Hooker who provides Evian.  I procured his Ipod since I put laxatives in his smoothie so I would have the opportunity to Sext Obama and look through his messages whilst he was pooping and came across his choice playlist that I would like to share with y'all because Im a southern Baptist.

1. Dark Horse Katy Perry
2. Im a Champion Kanye  West
3. Waterfalls TLC
4. Currency By Pinanfarina- this lyric in particular was highlighted in his i phone note section
Champagne stain shit, Spitta get lifted like sanctions
Vocabulary gangster, my ink pen has shanked men

5. Here We Go N Sync

6. The Beatles When Im 64

7.  Mariah Carey Why are you So Obsessed with me

8. Eminem Will the Real Slim Shady Please Stand up 

9. I just cant wait to be King Lion King 

Are you Sophisticated and UnderStatedly Sexy to Pull off Your Manic Bi Polar Diagnosis

I dont watch Tv for a plethora of reasons; is for poor people who cant get into clubs; I am too busy trying to memorize facts about Guns and Aristotle quotes to allow my Pseudo Ivy League Education at MiddleBury be somewhat worthwhile, and the storyline of Breaking Bad makes me miss my Meth friends in Malibu and intensifies my urges to accumulate cancer drugs so I can get skinny as fuck.

 but Alas, there was a line from How I met your mother regarding the hot crazy scale, left me wondering, am I indeed attractive enough to Pull off my manic depressive alcoholic asbergers frigid borderline boring psychopath; It was Elle Woods who put it best, and said that with some Mascara and some highlights I was definitely not unfortunate looking; but not quite at the caliber that is necessary to exude insanity and still maintain regular relationships and employment.

Which begs several other Vital Questions 

What is on Putin's Workout Playlist?

What kind of Porn is on Obama's I-pad?

Is it appropriate to Hashtag Your Networth?

Can any songs from the Spice Girl Album be used during Sex on the Trading Floor?

Does Le Bernadin Deliver?

Do the Bottle Service Girls at Lavo make more money than Mozart?

Can I put my psychiatrist as a character reference for my Application to obtain a Gun Powder and my Real Estate License?

Is the Sex Tape of Petreaus Available on Demand?

Did Captain Von Trapp and Liesel have a relationship that bordered on inappropriate overt sexual undertones?

What is considered Nazi-Chic?

30 under 30 Most Valuable Whores Dressed in Balmain and who Are Accomplished within their Industry Dot Com Vanity Fair Financial Times Prevention Magazine

It has become my ultimate reason for existing that I emerge on the 30 under 30 list of fabulous whores who do nothing and exert no effort yet are extremely accomplished in their line of work.

On paper it appears as though with my pseudo ivy league degree, impossibly high cheek bones, curious fascination with absurd hobbies such as infiltrating a low tier terrorist organization, mah jong, chess, a growing endearing relationship with my pharmacist,  donating to meaningless charities- obtaining the most likes on Guest of a Guest,
and solely dating people based upon
their last name
 which Hamptons they summer in
 whether or not they vote Republican
 can name 5 operas where the people DO NOT die,
that I am a prime candidate for this type of List on Vanity Fair Financial Times Sunday Style-less;

So, the ultimate question becomes, who do I have to fuck, with my FDA tight vagina and asberger like skills in the boudoir, replete with a cartier blood stained pack of hand cuffed and great Valencia Kelvin Filters on my video camera to film an erotic tasteful porn?

A League of Conservatism and Adventure

It was the week after my third friend had gotten married and I was not asked to be the maid of honor because she claimed she had SO Many friends and was fearful that she would hurt someones feelings.  Have you ever heard anything more Selfish than not asking ME to be the fucking maid of honor.  For one thing I look Amazing in ugly dresses and am phenom at throwing bridal showers as long as I dont have to show up and do none of the work. Not to mention I question the institution of marriage unless you are Gay or Angelina Jolie; in which case Dearly Beloved; exchange those diamonds and sign the prenup in Courier New. 

 I silently lamented in my disappointment by passively aggressively tweeting Kennedy quotes about friendship. I knew that the real reason for not being asked is that I would most likely try to fuck the groom or the brides father sauteed in a bloody nose and a drunken toast that would result in repeating the story about the time we went to Paris and stole the painting during a power outtage and kept it in storage in a facility in Amsterdam where I also store orphans to sew cool zippers on my sweaters. #TheSunwillComeoutTomorrow.


Alas, it had come to my painstaking realization that I am most likely going to be that friend who asks to stay in my fellow sorority sister's 2nd home whom I used to steal cocaine from and quote Aristotle with, but it would only be for 2 months I would say, and then by the 5th month her Hedge Fund Connecticut Waspy Rolex-Wearing- Closet Homosexual- Cigar Smoking husband will say, wasnt she supposed to be gone by now? As she is costing us $200 dollars a month with the heating bill and we do not have stock in Con Edison.

Im really feeling your

Hatred of your Children

Your housekeeper

Your Choice in Porn and Stock Portfolio

Your Moms shoes and ability to throw a nice cocktail party with bougie caters 

Your Banksy Quotes

Your Self loathing

Your Finger banging skills in the bathrooms of low tier clubs

Pooping at the Maurice in Paris

Pouring Vodka Down the Mail Shoot

Entering Contests for Free Guns

Doing Drugs with strangers

Pretending to be French

Your photos that have rap quotes as the caption

Your feigned interest in my childhood prodigy like skills at the Flute and horseback riding

Skipping my period

Auctions at Sotheby's

Chomping on Crudite whilst talking to Blackstone Employees

Cash only businesses

Sex Toys for Rape Victims

Van Cleef insignia's

Jizzing in the Shape of Chanel C's

Your St. Bernard's Degree

Craigslist Ads: The Responses have been pitiful:

http://newyork.craigslist.org/mnh/crg/4387567840.html

 Boost my instagram following (Manhattan)

compensation: $275.00

Hello- I am looking to improve my instagram following by taking a photo with an attractive male model type age 25-40, with an impressive instagram following of his own. The pay is $275.00 for one photo at a downtown restaurant in Manhattan.
Please email •••••••@outlook.com with your name, photo, best means of contact, and a potential hashtag idea. 

Tumblr

Glitter Therapy is Moving to Tumblr for a very special 420 Launch To celebrate Republicans who Smoke weed, support Gay Marriage, Musical Theatre and Trips to the Cape. I am rifled with the anxiety about the move since Tumblr sounds like a place where poor people go to Do Gymnastics, but I look forward to switching Platforms. I wont be doing a ridiculous Taylor Swift Lea Michele Countdown as that reeks of a thirsty Eagerness that I would rather just express explicitly.

Up Coming Ted Talks:

The evolved fashion of Terrorists

Manipulative Divorce Lawyers

Assanation Attempts of Socialites

The Timeline of Disney Stars from Bublegum Pop Princesses to Anorexic Sluts

The Assets of Drug Dealers broken down by Drug and socioeconomic background

Innovative approaches Peace in the Middle East:  over a Cigar in A Jacuzzi

The Empire of the Romans and Oprah Winfrey

The links between those who believe in Global Warming and comment on blogs

The devaluation of the American Dollar

Im not impressed with your

39 likes on instagram and no comments
Choice in Wine when its from America
Judaism
Economist Subscription
Inability to effectively acquire cocaine or hold an erection
Fluency in Spanish
internship if it isn't for a terrorist organization or GQ
Mile Time/ Prison Time
Thesis Topic unless it is about Reagan or  Casey Anthony
Modeling Contract
Klonopin Prescription
Passport with less than a bakers Dozen Stamps from 2012 to the present
Chiropractor
Fully Waxed Vagina
blackout Story
Coachella Pictures unless they include a group shot with the Rich Kids of Beverly Hills that were not part of the show or someone Black
Blog unless you never proofread and have compelling stories about drug use, Amanda Bynes,
Juan Les Pins, Aquariums, La Guardia Security Gone Wrong, Inside Trading, Mortgage Fraud, Expensive Porn, refusal to comply with societal norms without being Ironic or Emo, vulgar descriptions of wealth and excess,
Gigi Salads,
Yolanda Foster,
use words like Cunt, inflation,  Trill, Idiosyncratic,investigative portals,
Sexually based offenses that are considered especially heinous,
 the Musay D'Orsay, Tosca, Jacuzzi's, shady Pediatricians, Tupac, Nick Lachey, Gated Communities, Racism,  Easter, Jesus Christ, Teterboro, Non life threatening eating and drinking disorders, beauty pageants, Acne, tics, Ann Coulter, bleach, poison, chandeliers, date rape, Cafe Angelique, Mud Treatments, Children Abductions, Hess Trucks, Prince Eric, Ariana Grande, Faberge, Soul Cycle, Sexual Repression, Twisted Desires, Manic Destructive means of diffusing boredom and depression, binoculars, adderal, weapons, Con Edison, kleptomania, anal sex with sultans, Club 55, 21 Club, et cetera ad naseum

Day 1 Without Soul Cycle In Exchange for Bored Housewives Anonymous: Part one of the BBC Documentary Based on A True Story Narrated by Morgan Freeman

Its a rare condition that I skip spinning, but I had to do so because I was chairing a Cocaine Anonymous meeting,
I attend these under my Alias Jane Burrows in attempt to make new friends, gather material for my multiple personalities and enjoy the coffee and donuts which I throw up later using a potion of vinegar and SnapChat Ceo Jizz,
I do of course appreciate the literature, since I am Hashtag WellBredWellRead and appreciate strengthening my relationship with God slash myself.
 I mostly just enjoy making up stories sitting in the rooms sharing my experience strength and hopelessness, such as waking up on a Bus to New Mexico next to the former Governor of an arbitrary State with nothing but tic tacs and last seasons old Navy one piece swimsuits,
 but I find that my new hobby of addiction anonymous feeds a manipulative hole in a way that I never thought possible,
I also install hidden cameras in the bathroom as I am certain there is a mathematical quadratic reciprocation of the percentage of which sponsor is code for drug dealer, and sponsor and sponsee do drugs in the bathroom, one of my personal goals.

See you at The St. Regis

Bio for My New Gig in the Non Profit Organization Hookers for World Peace and Poor Taste in Music 501c3 Tax Exempt From the IRS

Alas, In my new Non Profit Investigative Organization to bring Global Awareness to Hookers with Bad Taste in Music such as the third Album of Backstreet Boys and Pretentious Artwork see Duchamp and Dadaism,
my "boss", and I use this term lightly since I dont listen to anyone except my nanny and my Godmother, now in Prison for Tax Evasion, asked that I send out a Short Bio so that I could intro seduce myself to the firm:

He gave me a prompt to answer several questions and I wanted to be sure the entire company understood my core values and who I really am inside.

What political leader/historical do you most identify with?
Eva Braun, because I too would end up being delusional enough to not realize that my boyfriend was trying to eradicate a religious persuasion and I get off  to pooping on my lovers. 

What would your last meal be on earth?
Veuve Cliquot and nutella mixed together with 16 red skittles 16 red m and ms, 16 unwrapped rieces peeces and the Brussel Sprouts from Gelinas in Venice Beach. 

If you could be an Ambassador to any country what would it be?
Dubai, so that I could practice my Arabic and still fly British Airways. 

What made you join our important Network?
I find it imperative to spend my time doing work that I love and being able to have adequate access of dynamite and other pertinent explosives for both personal and professional goals for the 2nd quarter of the fiscal year.

2014 Etiquette Whilst Spitting Game at the Bar

Good manners are more important that the fake global warming crisis. I pride myself on my impeccable manners given to me by parents who would be more offended if I didn't  say please and thank you than if I went into a career of artistic euro nude modeling with selling pot on the side.

This is our generation: instagram, casual blow jobs, the Real Housewives of St. Tropez, and being treated as low tier terrorists at La Guardia. Love it or hate it this is the world we live in but it has produced some seriously ill mannered individuals especially at the Bars.  So put your cell phone away and pretend to care. 

Girls

DONT: complain of your exhaustion when it is clear your girlfriend is about to get fingered by a waspy trust fund alcoholic with a house in Montauk and an affinity for cigars and hookers and jacuzzi's and a collection of Ronald Reagan paraphernalia. He may have friends or he may realize you are the better version of her, which you are. Stay awhile and BE SUPPORTIVE. 

DONT: stare into your phone and text, you look stupid, friendless and poor especially if it is not an if it is a blackberry or a burner phone, which I have to use for my Alias and I sacrifice looking like a lost drug dealer. Pretend you do not have a phone and focus on getting drunker and meeting someone who is of your race and shares a Rockefeller tax bracket. 

DONT: order shots or beer: makes you fat and stupid, reeks of impurely bred  unfeminine despicably easy trashiness. Order the champagne, prosecco, Rosay, pinot grigio and NEVER order Vodka Soda, this screams Im a raging liberal bulimic with a poorly decorated summer home and have a worthless Undergrad major. see German Literature, Chemistry, Sheep Raising, Communications, Cooking, P.E

DONT: leave a conversation to go to the bathroom. Get passed the small talk. Get weird. Ask the person you are talking to about his past travel experiences, his wildest dreams in life, if he still talks to his camp friends, what sports teams he roots for excluding football which is disgusting, and you can say O same, my Uncle is from there, thats why. After each person you talk to you should be able to call them a friend and then the next time you run into each other, have a fantastic inside anecdotal memory that holds your connection and makes others envious. Kay Bella.  

DONT: Spend more than 3.14 Pi minutes with men who touch you and call you babe who do not buy you drinks. Once he buys you a drink, allow for casual and or light grinding and do not sleep with him unless he is part of the mob. 

Gentlemen: No quotes from movies, no discussion about weed, no sneakers, no backwards caps, no gay or racial slurs unless its in context and its funny and no talk about how its so awesome to never ever have a girlfriend. 

DON'T: Travel in packs with your "bro's" You look like a homosexual. Once you arrive together disperse yourself and talk to women, buy them drinks, tell them they are pretty, ask them about their dogs. Show them a picture of your dog. (I do not mean penis, unless she asks)

DON'T: dress poor, and this includes shoes and type of cigarettes, and never ever order bottom shelf liquor. 

DON'T: ignore women that you have hooked up with. Look her in the face and say hello. Yes, she is an ugly, prude, liberal,with acne and a bad nose job who may or may not have slept with her cousin and you were on shrooms, but Don't make her feel worse, acknowledge her presence and who knows, her brother may just be the CEO at SnapChat

DON'T: make conversation about lack of money, lack of ability to dance, or any negative comments about family members. You dont need to prove that you are a poor uncoordinated asshole. 

DON'T try to fingerbang unless you know her political persuasion, her religion, and a tv show she likes. You do not want her to fall asleep at your pied a terre and having nothing to discuss whilst your maid makes belgian waffles in the morning. with syrup on the side not touching and later used as lube.

See you at the St. Regis 

Hey its Ok to

Download Expensive Porn on the Office Computer

Fuck on the first date if his family has a net worth of 600K and drops phrases like Mark Rothko was ahead of his time, and the Aria in Madame Butterfly was sub par.

Read People's text messages when they get up to use the bathroom

Accept your staff's request on Instagram

BE violently disturbed when the weather does not resemble Miami

Be able to determine which Kardashian sister is talking but not be able to determine Any of the President's cabinet or name any member of his Chief of Staff. This will not be ok when we have a Republican President.

Drink Vodka in the Morning if you read the Wall Street Journal

Buy drugs for celebrities and they do not pay you back

Sell Stories to the Tabloids

Refuse to invest in personal hygiene items in exchange for adderall

Tell Racist Jokes in a gentrified environment

Name Drop your friends who are members of the Mob

Be extremely rude to the Wine Sommelier when he does not leave enough to taste before you swivel it around in your mouth and after a carefully calculated 45 second pensive pregnant pause, determine that the wine is acceptable

Ask to get Takeout from La Grenouille

Kick Stewardesses in the Shins

Pretend you are a terrorist in the Airport if you are flying out of Teterboro or on Jetblue

Weekend in Atlantic City Sauteed in Tourettes and Unpaid Invoices: A Portrait of An Artist Overdressed at the Bloodsoaked Crime Scene by Jeff Koons

Alas, I am  consistently looking for ways to inquire mass amounts of income with doing as little work as possible, this includes but is not limited to selling my childhood piano on Ebay, having light cyber Sex with my online Chess opponents, and selling my glitter encrusted cocaine on Craigslist, which is laced with Goldman Sachs Jizz and cut with very expensive laxatives from the Swiss Alps which remove the headaches entirely and have a pleasant throat drip due to the Swiss Chocolate flavoring

I digress, 

I also Moonlight as a KGB Klu Klux Wu Tang Klan-de Cote du Rhone Cracked out Detective dressed in Broken Stilletto's and Old Navy Trench Coats with holes in it.

My work took me to Atlantic City this past weekend, or should I call it, the East Coast Poor People Coachella where the Hippies are Hispanic with cellulite and spandex dresses. 

My assignment was simple, you may be asking, as a KGB Wu Tang Klan investigator, Shouldnt I be keeping my Cocaine Clandestine Investigations Top Notch Secret in my Vault of delusion and sublime obscurity? I would say No in Arabic because Im a fucking cultured Genius, but honestly, why does anyone do anything if not for the story and I must tell you everything immediately. 

The assignment was simple, a Russian Organization was having a conference at the Revel Casino Conference Room and I had to attend, take notes and report back, my Alias was to pose as hooker with tourettes  and thankfully blowjobs and knowledge of Russian Politics was not required since all I know is to just put my mouth on a penis and that Putin is equated with Spencer Pratt on Buzzfeed, which must mean that the Country is a wealthy spoiled delusional Cunt with too much free time, yet has an addictive charm that keeps you wanting more. This leads me to believe that Putin and I would get along just fine and on that note I once smoked a Joint with his nephew in the Maldives and his ganja was comme ci comme ca. 

Since I spent most of the conference on Instagram,, chainsmoking outside screaming at my Banker for accidentally transferring 12,000 Euros out of My Bank Account to the Make a Wish Foundation when I specifically told her to not follow thru on transactions unless I end them with a Taylor Swift Quote. I.E  Transfer Money to Kids with Cancer who want to meet Ariana Grande and the Pope for tea Now Im Lying on the Cold Hard Ground,, I missed the crux of the lecture. Nevertheless I sent an exhaustive bill of my required expenses. 

My clients did not approve my billing for the vicodin, the cigarettes, the Expensive porn I downloaded from My Less than Sub Par Junior Suite Sans Bidet and the MINIATURE bottle of Perrier Jouet. As my father always says, get everything in writing before the work is complete. Or lack thereof. 

OvearHeard on the West Wing of Le Murray Hill

"Can we just get fro yo for dinner and a bottle of wine and watch Real Housewives on your Couch?"

Ugh. Fervently disgusted with chills up and down my spine; this sort of banter makes me want to climb into the Great Wall of Destruction and casually slit my wrists without doing much damAge  as the level of basic bitch that had occurred in this conversation was thankfully bulimia inducing but further proof that we are dead inside subsisting on 16 handles and delusion that following this chain of events on a thursday night will bring you to an absurd life beyond your wildest ludicras FantaSy.

Where is the search for Truth? For Elegance? For Faith? For wealthy Tech Hedge Fund executives with a Penchant for Chess and Xanax and Excellent Housekeeping coupled with an inability to hold an erection which is easily made up for their standing season tickets at Yankee Stadium during the World Series and Amazing collection of Suits and exotic Animals?

My Application Essay for Horace Mann High School 2002

Prompt:

Horace Mann is an energetic and vibrant environment that encourages intellectualism, mutual respect, mature behavior, an active and healthy lifestyle, commitment to the community, both internal and external, and a secure setting.

How do you feel as though you will be a meaningful contribution to the Community that which Ho-Mann seeks?

My response:
These are My Feelings
 by Glitter Therapist 


My feelings- When things are not ok and no one understands, When does it become Ok to tell someone that it is not Ok? I want to be the pillar of the Community For Young Women for When things are not Ok. A teacher, a politician, a philosopher, an abstract creator- that is what I want to bring to Horace Mann.  Things are not ok all the time and I would like to change why we cannot talk about this, like Ghandi. Or Paris Hilton. Or Confucius.  I wonder if everyone was as lonely as me and I wonder if It was justified to be pretty and be miserable. Tears flood. Ashtrays break. The world keeps spinning and we are all getting older and lonelier and no one talks about it.  I want to stop living in a world that values Alexander wang and picture trails of girls in bikinis.Am I supposed to strive for what Harpers Bizarre's idea of beauty is- girls with empty imaginations and hip bones that cut glass? I do not want to be in so much pain anymore. I was an evil little girl and saught solace within my mothers stolen vodka glass listening to bethoveens fifth wondering if my suicide note should be in iambic pantameter- My feelings were eating me alive and I could not find the appropriate coping mechanisms because there is no place that feels safe to discuss pain without sounding ironic. Nothing was wrong really except for everything and the worst part was I couldn't even explain why- Depression coupled with alcoholism  is a serious illness and it is a disease that tells you you do not have a disease.So, I would bring openness and meaningful change and open up a space to discuss these critical issues with my peers. I would also be an effective Model UN member since I just came back from my trip to Palestine and understand the conflict on a deeper level. 


Age 14. 
Religion: Christian and sometimes Kaballah 
Race: White 
Legacy: Nathaniel Hawthorne, Great Uncle 
 Quote that summarizes you: I know the difference between Karat and Carat. 

Osama Bin Laden Wore Balanciaga and has Phenomenal Marjuana:

As I manically write by the pouring rain by the moonlight, sexually frustrated emotionally unstable and financially malnourished I seek solace in my vicodin Haze and my core belief that I was born for greatness and then ultimate self destruction. So Safely Mid-Air on My Way to Russia,  where I plan to Open Soul Cycle Moscow The Frat Tzar Edition Sans Putin, I write with my 1968 Cartier Quill Pen given to me by Communist Albeit Dear Friend Ledif Castro.  I wear a Shirt that Says Osama Bin Laden Wore Balenciaga and refuse to remove my sunglasses.

The Story began as most do, leaving work in a cum stained Suit. I was leaving work on my way to Laguardia Airport with a bouquet of flowers from the janitor since we used to Fuck when I was bored.

I realized that I was about 45 minutes late to leave because I was in a very heated game of online Chess and then had to go To Barney's to buy an outfit that did not have blood or cum on it. I realized that I had spent all of my money on orbit gum and the entire season of the Wire so wrote the girl at the check out stand an "I owe you" which I never plan to repay, She owes me a favor because I caught her stealing a 2004 Alexander Wang Top last year, which I thought was disgusting, the top, not the theft, but she swore me to secrecy and I am the best secret keeper I know besides my dog who died. RIP.

I am the type of asbergers young lady who cries in the Taxi all the way to the airport about the meter going UP UP UP in Arabic to the driver who then told me that life wasn't so bad as his wife had no legs.

I stopped crying for a moment and reflected on my ungrateful disposition, which lasted a mere milly second. I proceded to arrive at the airport and seized and foamed at the mouth in Anger that I was not in First Class and Clit Tra LAy, when I am off my meds my Manic Bi Polar disposition goes Mona Lisa Off the WaLL -and I banged my fists in blood sweat and tears to the woman giving me my boarding pasts and Begged her to upgrade me.

 I explained to her that I was in dire fear of an incoming terrorist attack and could only be soothed by the outstretched chairs, bottled water, and louis vuitton luggage by my fellow passengers.

Was this bratty and disgusting to feign threat of terrorism as a Means to get an upgrade and enjoy a peaceful flight with extra Leg Room and the possibility of meeting recruits of Flight Patrons to join my Fight Club?

Potentially but I rest on the firm belief that Brattyness can be offset by good Karma and great taste in Restaurants. I was extremely kind to the Stewardness, asked her about her workout Routine and eating schedule and even read a story to the mute Waspy Blonde who Was behind me until She fell Asleep in my lap and I stroked her hair and sang Edelweis from the Sound of Music to her. And When she awoke I explained to her who the Spice Girls were and Why Geri Left so abruptly and how it was as potent political moment of my generation. Can you Imagine living in a World Where your peers Cant Finish the Lyrics to Too Much of Nothing Is Just as Tough,

Im disgusted by your Stance on Gun Control and Abortion #TurndownForWhat

In my pseudo Ivy League pseudo Anonymous Pseudo Deranged Existence, I find that My Masters in Government from Darmouth University where I spent most of the lectures trying to Eye Fuck the Professor and create an Alias on Etsy where I could purchase items using Monopoly Money and Worthless Russian Rubels from my Trip to Moscow in 1979 right before the Iranian Revolution, renders me deft on the subjects of hot Political disturbances. Guns and Abortion. My stance is crystal meth clear. Everyone should have a gun, and by everyone I mean those with a bodyguard and an eating disorder, and everyone should abort their child. Immediately. I cannot say this firmly enough. Children are the sole reason for the destruction of society, and unless you are financially equipped to raise them they way in which vapid-Pretentious-social climbing-alcoholic cutie Daisy Buchanan raised her daughter, in the West Wing of West Egg to be scene and not heard, and know one knows her name and she Got all of Gatsby's Money. Last I heard she was at the Chateau Marmount explaining to one of the bandmembers of OneRepublic that she Cuts herself but is "over it".

Alas, it is with a critical dialayted pupil eye that one observes my professional politics. A vast majority of black conspiracy theorists think that my belief that every cold blooded American should have a piece who wants one and abort their baby immediately deem this as a a pathetic cry for attention in the hopes of becoming the Next Brunette Ann Coulter. But with a more British Inflection and worse taste in clothes, Why Yes, A Milenium Kelvin Filtered Ann Coulter,  I hope to have a CNN Prime Time Special To Air right in Between the Real Housewives of St. Tropez and a CSPAN advanced Ted Talk on the Devaluation of the American Dollar-
My Prime Time will showcase the liberal media elite attempting to burn me at the Stake, in a Modern Day Twisted Wicked The Musical in Salem Fashion. Figuratively Speaking.  No rest for the wicked.

On the Precipe of Fear of Becoming a Basic Bitch

Alas, the past few weeks I have been rifled with anxiety over the usual drama of our liberal administration, the strict laws on tax evasion and my overall inability to drive and give quality head,

 but I realized at the Nail Salon whilst having a near panic attack over choosing what appropriate color to chose- one that sends sends the oppressive message that I am a slut who does a shit ton of drugs but has a sweet disposition and a plethora of knowledge on Kanye West and Weapons Trading, I decided on Marshmallow, also as an homage to a Wealthy HedgeFund Wife who saved me in St Tropez and took me to Lunch. 

Whilst I was getting my nails done and casually thumbing through Instagram on my fake InstaHandle Fresh_Nigga4545 for the purpose of stalking my drug dealer and my musical theatre broadway ticket broker whom I certain gave half price tickets  to Heather's the Musical to someone I used to do business with in '82 Shudder, I wondered if I had become what I feared the most. A Basic Bitch. 

A Basic Bitch

Nails

Gym on the Ellip with Self Mag Glamour 

Hanging out with my Mom

Selfies

Work 

Kardashians

Vodka Soda with a Splash of Lime 

Non Suicidal Thoughts

Granola Bars

Orbit Gum 

Facebook Stalking

Tears over Bank Accounts

Brunch with Girls and adding the food into myFitness pal app subtracting the mimosas 

This list essentially describes my very existence leaving me with a deep disturbed depression that we are living on the outskirts of our lives, not listening to each other, living without meaning without truth and without passion. Living in a place where we are basic- 

So, my pill popping basic philosophy English Clit-erature majors who work in Merchandising,have a stronger opinion on the downfall of Gwen's Marriage than Crimea's casual removal from Ukraine's Sovereignty, and give blowjobs on the third date when the restaurant is 4 star Michellin Zagat cozy Champagne laden 2 course extravagant experience, I challenge us all to  invest in activities that cause a raging discomfort as a spring board to higher psychological peak. And Why?

Because even though life is at times more painful than Communism life should be magic, we are a group of well educated well dressed drug addicts with a penchant for fine dining and Gyllie Flynn, So Go explore an art museum, masturbate to strange porn, wear gold nail polish, join a cult, get a massage, Invest in a risky company, listen to Smooth Jazz, put your phone on silent and write a letter to a friend about your feelings, mix your medications, go Vegan, Only eat redmeat, Only eat lobster, dress up like a mermaid, Poop in The Ritz, make a painting out of Cum, re create your favorite murder scene with the dolls from your doll house and so forth et cetera ad naseum, See you on the otherside of fear, or as I like to call it, the waiting room in My office. Dr. Glitter Therapy M.D  Mad. Drugs. 

Removing The Blogspot

There are significant changes occurring over here at Glitter Therapy Headquarters, replete with my Baccarat Cum Stained Magnifying Glass and glass of champagne. As I blog in the nude and count my euros whilst the Soundtrack of Pochahontas and Turandot plays in the background, Ive made the painstaking realization that it is time to grow up. Hashtag Paint the Colors of The Wind with My magic wand and stock portfolio. 

My Version of growing up entails still keeping my 4 nannies and maintaining my core delusional values in being exempt from paying Con Edison and the belief that Men today are chivalrous and respectful despite fucking on the first date. 

I am also opening up a Glitter Therapy Shop for bloody accessories and a kill yourself tool kit on the tumblr with the help of My Asian Assistant Hoo Chi Minh. Stay Tuned. Stay Medicated. 

Inner Musings of a Soul Cyclists with Asbergers, a Poor Sense of Financial and Emotional Management, and Republican Disposition

I used to have a beyond morbid fascination with the soul cycle instructors, which already alienates most, as soul cycle conjures up images of pill popping manicured sushi with my girl tbt selfie taking whores who don’t know Aristotle from Aphrodite and neither do I.

It appears that the characteristics that I just described relay a perfect example of the complexity of my self loathing. Id like to think I live a much deeper much purer much more profound existence than I actually do, but alas I am just like everyone else manically checking their i-phones waiting for those orange hearts to manifest as if they are divine subliminal messages from the Angel on top of my Childhood Christmas Tree herself. Ipso Facto, I have come to the painstaking realization that Soul Cycle instructors are just people and are not manifestations of a higher power. 

So, I pose a difficult question. Who will save me? Is Everyone just as lonely as I am or are they better at masking it through a lethal yet enjoyable combination of adderal and vodka soda with a splash of lime on a bar stool with people they do not care about? 

New Soul Cycle Boyfriend Whom I would enjoy being Finger Banged by

As Sam Smith and the Late Jesus Christ said, Ive got Money on My Mind uh huh uh huh Walk on Water. 

I  thought it impossible to never cheat on WillaWonkaMenia MoDel Haggia Sophia Turkish Vogue Childlike Fantasy Manifest Destiny of all that is pure and good and true. But As I Learned from my Uncle who raped me at the Gun Club, when 13 and I liked it as he bought me a rolex after;  taught me to equate violence and jewelry. This experience is one of the soul cycle reasons I enjoy getting beaten during sex and during workout; a lesson and defense mechanism I learned from my financially indulged sexually abused childhood. 

However, I have intellectually processed the painful notion that perhaps I will not abandon my British Citizenship and be indoctrinated into the family of my soul cycle by a means of force my marriage, I continue to look elsewhere on my quest. I also have developed a 3.14 weight gain that no matter how hard my gays punch me in the stomach can I seem to remove.  

I decided to examine the Bridge and Tunnel Soul Cycle obsession that seems to have hot Christian wasp blondes replete with pearls and chardonnay who dont work positively soaked, 

It was so painful to cheat that I immediately had to spin with the Turkish Model Spin Lord, and the double rendered me incapable of finding my way home, thus I write this review in a shady Internet Cafe in JFK because I am leaving for Moscow to open up Soul Cycle Kremlin sans Putin.

 

  Greenwich makes me want to uproot my pathetic existence in My pied a terre in the MeatPacking district and Move to Connecticut and become hedgefund housewife and expedite my eventual fate into a sex starved Wasp who suffers from manic boredom and a light painkiller addiction.

 

Alas. Before I break my Lease and my Ex-husbands Shins, I will take a few more of his classes replete with heavy hills leaving me gasping for breath and homicidal thoughts.  Greenwich, it is quite possible that you fit in to my Tuesday Thursday remix when I am not manically stalking WillaWonkaMenia Model's thrice dozen classes a week and here is why.

 

Taking a soul cycle class with an instructor whom I could not entertain the possibility of casual sex in the bathroom followed by an intense therapy session in my Jacuzzi over a blunt and a bible passage is simply not an option nor interesting- but Greenwich brings an energy that allows my prude repressed Michael Kors dressed teen angst to manifest into an inner hip hop goddess that I never knew existed. What I love about the class is his passion for life without being an idiot and the fact that his class was a first class jet plane to a hot body and clear mind. I am a very typical basic bitch with the exception of chronic bulimia and a penchant for Chess, but through the madness of what it takes to survive in Manhattan, Conor could very well next be my new boyfriend slash father.

 

I pedaled with every ounce of my soul with the objective in mind of becoming his best friend and lover with whom I could go to Miami for Memorial Weekend and walk on white sand beaches and discuss our luxurious chaotic hopes and objectives while tapping back fast I am without a doubt adding to my Give better head playlist for Summer 2014.

Leaving My Means of Employment to Pursue My Pop Star Dreams and 3rd Base

I have auditioned for more MTV reality Shows than I care to admit, except not at all, because if you remember correctly my greatest fears in life are that I appear boring and that I am just comme ci comme ca at giving head. The auditioning for reality shows serves as a choice conversation piece ridding my deep rooted insecurities of my uninteresting vapid existence and reality TV serves as a medium to practice my skillset of Trois Base. 

 The chasm between Glamorous work where you do not do anything meaningful because you are of a well bred elitist background where you are truly madly deeply above any means of honest work and actual work is the chasm between the wealthy and the not, and its an interesting terrain that like my breasts, I would like to expose and discuss. 

 In veritas most of my adolescent sexual experiences were due to a case of mistaken identity as since I am always character and carrying a passport with a different name, men assumed I was someone else. And ipso facto, it is cocaine high time that I left the blue collar middle class world of the LAPD and pursue the career that I was born to live in, ultimately, a stay at home mom without the children, as children are smaller version of ourselves on our worst day, but on the mid tier of the dream of the permanent vacation, I am participating in Lifetime Movie Auditions of the 21st centuries greatest media darlings who allegedly killed their family and Friends see Casey Anthony Amanda Knox and Andrea Yates. 

Prose Before Hoe's in The St Regis New King Cole Bar

Alas, As I wondered through the bar of the St. Regis hotel Bar with my Ocelet on a leash from my Bathrobe from upstairs, I silently glanced at the Matisse Painting and wondered if anyone would notice if I removed it and brought up to my suite and sold it on Craigslist in attempt to finance my new interesting middle class drug problem in oxycontin. Why Oxy, I was bored and doing research on Trailer Park Trash in the 80's .
Matisse, what a phenom artist to name drop at cocktail parties to cite as your favorite, not as graphic as Van Gogh with his cutting off his ear business, as citing Van Gauche gives off a violently sexual undertone that you are turned on by being thrown up against a wall and handcuffed to the basement and left without food for 3 days only to be found by an illegal immigrant janitor. This particular circumstance greatly changed my opinion on illegal immigrants and as a staunch Republican, I am now left with no choice but to fully support immigration, as Pablo San Whatever  Jaun o Me saved me, even though he called me a Gringo Whore.

April Goals

Procure Nazi Paraphernalia
Infiltrate an Asian Gang Bang
Create a Line of Nail Polish with OPI for My Nails By GlitterTherapist Line Showcasing names Like "Rusted Date Rape"
Read Graphic Self Help Books on the subway
Bedazzle my vagina and Old Testament
Have a poetry reading at The Metropolitan Opera House Basement and read them with a British Accent
Grind Up Against  A Goldman Sachs Analyst at One Oak without exhibiting any Asbergers and not sleep with him until date 3
Learn how to effectively parallel park and moderate a Debate
Brush my teeth
wear underwear