Online Dating: Let Money Be thy Medicine and Medicine be thy Money Hashtag You Are Basic

I have made it crystal meth clear that if I am to share my life with someone other than myself and my multiple personalities than they must Be A Sultan with an Ocelot who washes their Giraffes 'with Johnson and Johnson baby shampoo and has a small yet tasteful BeachHouse in East Hampton and a reasonable stockportfolio to Rival My Own Father's

I took a break from my diamond  encrusted vibrator designed for Rape victims to look at who is currently unattached on the world wide web, and was more disturbed at the results than I was when I went to work on time and not drunk, but that was only because I roofied myself and fell asleep Early to a Documentary on Sex Slaves. It was boring.

And this is what I saw:
Verbatim Plagarized

Jewish. Stuyvesant, Columbia grad. Bankruptcy lawyer by day. Curious, exercise daily, respectful, love learning, polite, tolerant, cherish great conversation, like swimming, travel, a good listener ... I think I'm witty, but I'm always willing to be self-deprecating. Looking for a nice Jewish girl; age 23 to 30.

What the Comme de Fuck de Garcon in Fresh Hell is this?????

I do not know where to start, I will start with the jewish persuasion.
As in my Recovery of Experience Strength and Hopelessness and Narcotics Anonymous whilst still casually using,
 I have rediscovered Mary Magdalene as my Higher Power because she is slutty and has asbergers like me. I am a proud pearl wearing chardonnay drinking poorly  tennis playing family photo posing delusional well bred Wasp Baptized Mascopalia nemic latter Day Saint trampled by Abraham's dust. 

Stuyvesant: I assume means that you are intelligent yet your parents saved the funds for their divorce attorney and poorly decorated 2nd home in the wrong Hamptons.

Columbia Grad. I do not have too many issues with this University especially because their finals club makes their members burn first class tickets to Tokyo, a practice a fully support. But I assume you had a basic Major like History. The last guy I dated who majored in History still played beer bong and couldnt capture any hookers in Grand Theft Auto.


Bankruptcy Lawyer does not sound like there is any room for exponential growth of scamming clients who are down to get High in the Maldives with Princess Diana's ghost.

Tolerant and Cherish Good Conversation? Good Lord. Did your therapist write this? I thrive on intolerance and would rather drink paint than have a moral conversation.

Match made in Hell. Next. 

I know where Ive been

Here is where he has been: Operation Desert Storm
Here is where I have been:  Prison in the Hamptons for a DWI

Heres where he has Been: Feeding Orphans during High School Christmas Break
Heres where Ive Been: In the attic having an argument with my Hamper 

Heres Where He has been: Playing Backgammon with his Mother's Book Club and forgoing the Bachelor Party:
Heres Where Ive Been:  Shoplifting Fredrick Fekkai Shampoo at Duane Reade

Heres Where He has Been:  Ecuador on a musical Expedition of drums and Mountains
Heres Where I have Been: Tulum where the Sunsets were worse than the Blow Jobs I gave in Middle School.

Heres where He has been: Keynote Speaker as the leading authority for Domestic Violence Prevention
Heres where I have been: Asking if he will role play Rape me. 

Thank Higher Power for My Assistant, 

See you at the St. Regis 

10 Things I hate about You: Where are They Now

10 things I hate about you was a defining film in my youth, its Shakespearian Nods, its heavy racism, its rampant daddy issues and its probing question of every wealthy over indulged spoiled 90s teen of can one love both their Prada backpack and their sketchers?

I watched this film in the Caribbean getting fingered to the Heir of Mcdonalds to the scene where Julia Stiles gets Drunk and dances on the table and Heath Ledger, then saves her and then in real life dies from Drugs with Mary Kate Olsen.

And so, I wondered, what would become of Bianca, Katarina, Heath Ledger, the Underwear Model, The Cute Sailor Boy>

Katarina did end up dating Heath Ledger for awhile, she then became a 2nd tier writer never quite making a review in the New York Times and suffered 2 miscarriages. She then married Heath and they moved to Australia to open a Surf Shop.

Bianca piqued as fast as she rose and immediately dumped the Sailor Boy that Summer when her sister left for college and she realized her life was meaningless without having someone to compare herself to. She sunk into a wealthy girls depression replete with lazy psychiatrists and late night binges of m an ms and bad porn.
She eventually turned herself around and went to College and worked in her Father's office. She did not marry is still plagued by whether she can both love her sketchers and Prada backpack, which after careful due diligent investigation carried out by my cracked out North Korean intern Juan Not, turned out to be a fake.

Heath Ledger married Katarina but carried out several affairs with the local high school girls and was booked as a registered sex offender when he slept with the head cheer leader just shy of her 18th birthday. He then mortgaged his family's home to get his record expunged and he and Kat worked out their issues. He still serenades her with a full marching band of you're just to good to be true.


The underwear Model: After he recovered from when Bianca punched him at the Prom,  He booked several 1500 dollar gay porn gigs before moving to New York. He took a job at Morgan Stanley where he was fired for licking cocaine off of the tiles on the third floor.

The Cute Sailor Boy: Never quite got over Bianca but stayed in Orange County and obtained a PHD in English Literature where he taught at the University of Los Angeles. All of his students plagiarize their work and he still gave them all A's. He developed into an Alcoholic to channel his Ernest Hemmingway and moved to Cuba. He then shortly returned to attempt to win Bianca back, but with her cellulite and her lack of Prada Backpack, he realized he was no longer hard.

Excerpt From My New Novel: Nazi Cocaine

Father had a college friend named Roberto with a flat in Rome. Roberto was a direct descendent of Adolf Hitler, which is why they got along. My father’s grandfather was a Nazi German, and was Hitler’s close confident according to Mein Kempf and several conspiracy theorist historians. How Roberto ended up with such a classic Italian name was that Hitler’s half brother, Roberto’s  grand father, was exiled from the family on account of his rampant alleged homosexuality. When Hitler’s parents discovered Adermeir in his bedchamber with a classmate from school, they promptly asked him to pack his things. He was thirteen years old. It was a sad story of homophobic Nazis, but had he not been exiled, the course of my life would have been very different, and perhaps non existent. As far as Im concerned, that serves my primary interest. 

Complaints from The Peanut Gallery By Banksy

Where is my Fucking Side Salad

Why does my restraining order prohibit me from owning a gun

Why is bringing cocaine in my Carryon so offensive aside from the fact that I do not share?

Why do All clubs have A West African Bathroom attendant who cannot take a decent photo?

Why is the pool at Promises always a little too cold?

My alimony barely covers My weekly opera tickets and low grade seats to Jay Z.

My fake Louis Vuitton Purse has 28 pennies at the bottom of it wrapped in orbit gum and cigarette ash that make a lot of noise and no one will help me clean it

My Therapist has prettier clients than me

My Vicodin addiction no longer infuses my Bulimia

I have to spit on my hand to get wet when sleeping with someone who comes from a NetWorth of under 600K

My step mother hid her Birkin but I stole it anyway and the doorman saw me

I do not know how to trade stocks effectively

I would rather Intern for Hezbollah than Vogue

Glitter Infiltrated Eloise at the St. Regis

I am Eloise
I am Twenty-six

I am a city girl
I live at the St. Regis and in the King Cole Bar 

There is a lobby with strobe lights, and a Disco ball and silver-and-gold Chandelier to which I swing from on the Ceiling when I have taken too many Quayludes
You can find videos of my Swinging on my Vine, that is monitored by my Nanny who I fired yesterday.

The absolute first thing I do in the morning is make  an Irish coffee with Valium in the bathtub infused with Laxatives and count my Euros Hidden in the Freezer. They were given to me by my Grandfather, a world Renowned Ponzi Schemer.

Then I have to go to the health club to see if they’ve gotten any new Foreign Trainers and then fart on the yoga mats. Then  I stop at the business center to Google Auto Asphyxiation and how to make Dynamite. Then I paint my nails White. 

Darlene is the daytime concierge who moonlights as a Hooker. She is Always Hungover but makes more money than the President.
She knows people who have appeared as Extra's on Homeland and the Gilmore Girls.
She is very good at recommending the Cigar Bars where I will get roofied but can wear Dolce and Gabbana. She always points out to where I've broken out. Then I have to hit her.  

Every morning, I go out to the bookstore to Read Foreign Policy, and look to see whether there are any new colors of  Starbursts and Xanax.

Then I venture down to the Bodega where I practice my Arabic and show him my choreographed routine of Im a Slave for You. Sometimes I steal 16 packs or Orbit Gum.

Ooh, how I love love love and literally die for the Upper East Side!

I have an Ocelot who I walk through the lobby with my Silk Bathrobe string as a leash.
His name is Napoleon. 

My personal assistant is named Fernando who films me singing and submits my application to the CIA
He lives in a connecting room and we mutually spy on each other. Fernando has more instagram followers than the Whitehouse.

Sometimes I call him my life coach, my spiritual healer, or my manservant, and I always try to sleep with him . He is Gay. He fears incompetence since I am only able to finish unless it is a rape fantasy reenactment. I also have a boyfriend who I see once every six Months. He lives in North Korea and speaks no English. 

Fernando says that he “cannot stand” when I call him my manservant, and when he threatens leaving me, I offer him olives and a backrub that borderlines on dry sex. Then I have to give him the evening off and bring him a glass of Jack Daniels. Sometimes I let him wear my Rolex and then he sings me Usher Lullabies so I can fall asleep. Let it Burn.

Sometimes, when my Ocelet and I are bored, I sprinkle glitter and crystal meth on his fur, and we ask to take pictures with the Celebrities in the Lobby. 

Then we put on our sunglasses and run to the Penthouse and Order Room Service and Chainsmoke. I always order the peanut butter fudge cake and smear it all over the walls.  Then we run into a stranger's Room and pass out in their bathtub.
Then I call back my Manservant and we gossip about whether 9-11 was an inside Job. We are undecided. I then book a trip to L.A and request to sleep in the Room where Whitney Houston died.  We start searching the hotel room for Coke and baking soda so we can make a cake.

I am dating-with-possible-quotation-marks Pierce Bin Laden, a descendant of Osama Bin Laden but he is Gay. He has a Boyfriend in Iran whom he wants to bring over when America Legalizes Gay Terrorist Marriage, 

and I am fine fine fine with that

Here is where he has been: Operation Desert Storm
Here is where I have been:  Prison in the Hamptons for a DWI

A bottle of  Diet Coke and Perrier De Chandon costs two hundred sixty five dollers from room service.
Open bottles are nonrefundable and I pour it down the mail shoot. 

Then, if I don’t have dinner plans, I go down to the bar and order a Sex on the Beach, which is also a preface to how I will murder my Math Teacher.
I have tried all of the Pre Appetizers and all of the canapes and then I choke so that someone can give me the Heimlich.
Those bar stools can get slippery if one is not careful an accident can happen. I usually fall and bruise my tush on the marble floor.

Sometimes I get a text from my friend Natalia, who I met in a Bulimics Anonymous meeting, she sings at the Metropolitan Opera and writes erotic Poetry with Incestual Anti-Semitic Undertones. She is in Love with her twin Brother,. O How I love Artists!

I tell her about the new Kelly Bag I bought for My Ocelot to carry him on the Subway when I go to Queens for Culture, and she tells me about her new Handcuffs and that her Tennis Instructor is Great in Bed, but a Terrible Tennis Instructor. 

Then we laugh and she asks, “Can you get me any Klonopin and tickets to the Yankees?” We like Derek Jeter but we Wish we could sit in the Dugout. Fernando says the Dugout is only for Players.

Fernando says that he wishes I wouldn’t use the iron in the ballroom to straighten my Money but then I slip him a crisp 100 dollar bill and he feels better. It was a counterfeit bill, but they are accepted at Prada and The Jane. Then I remind him to Record Gilmore Girls and to delete the scenes with the Fat Chef. 

Sometimes, when it is a Full Moon, Fernando, Natalia and I rifle through the Hotel Guests' Mail and look at their charges on the Computer. 

Here is what I can do:
Spy on People with my Baccarat Telescope
Eat and Wear Crocodile
Engage in Debates with Economists and Take Ambien 

Oh my I am Drained.  Then I go to the Club and fall asleep to my Parent's sex tape. 

Some Afternoons, I wake up with a rawther awful hangover, and Fernando brings me a Pellegrino and my Passport and we Count my stamps. Then I vomit while I ask him to read all the Comments on my Facebook. Then we unfriend people who wore outfits that looked like they were bought in Teen People.

Then my Psychic comes, but I tell him everything that has already happened and what I want to come in my future. I act Surprised when he begins his reading and recounts what has already happened and says whats to come.

Then Fernando reads me my Craigslist responses for my nude Modeling and Sugar Daddy applications. Just before the Stock market opens, we Watch Judge Judy and Read the New Testament. I only like the Part where Noah gets all the animals on the Ark. I express to Fernando that I too could build an Ark, and that I hope we get connecting Rooms in Heaven. Then we order Eggs over Easy and Listen to Tupac. I explain to Fernando that I wish he was more Hood. We put an Ad on Craiglist for a Body Guard. 

If it’s a Rainy day, we Walk to the Met and look for Hipsters with Good Weed and Interesting Opinions on Degas Ballerinas

Ooh I miss miss miss Baryshnikov, and am thankful he made Carrie Realize that Mr. Big was always the one. 

I have a collection of  Driver's Licenses' that people have left in the bar and the lobby.
Sometimes, when it rains, I put them all in a bucket and take them outside and sell them outside to 8th grade Chapin Girls. 

One time, I saw Madonna and she said I could sing with her onstage to Material Girl, but she hasn't followed though.  

Ooh I love love love my life!

Tomorrow I think, I will take a Long Bath and Order Every Magic Book on Amazon. 

Summer 2014 Goals

Liquidate my trust fund

Remove Andrew Jacksons face with mine on the twenty.

Learn the lyrics to Tosca and Tupac

Have a Threesome with a terrorist at a mediocre hotel

Acquire more powerful binoculars for the Opera and for Spying

Obtain a personalized invitation to P Diddy's White Party in St. Tropez

Make more friends who do meth

Induce bulimia with my wand

Be more open during my Shares at Narcotics Anonymous

Find a sponsor with more instagram followers than the Pope and Malia Obama

Run an underground Presidential Campaign for Monica Lewinsky

Dos and Donts of Being a Phenom House Guest, The Faux Paws Continue

DO bring sparklers, hard liquor and Nazi Paraphernalia

DoNt Be Asian

Do Have an opinion on the political ramifications of the Klobuchar Bill and use big words

DoNt have sub par skills at fingering

DO have a rolodex of recommendations for Doctors

DoNT handcuff yourself to the bed and lose your key in attempt to starve yourself if you refuse to allow me to put this on youtube and date rape you.

Do Bring interesting stories about accusations that your family are terrorists or in the Drug and Weapons Business

DoNT talk about your pre nup Unless you asked me to Notarize it

Do Brush my poodles' teeth

DoNt Have absurd dietary restrictions unless they provide substantial dinner conversation  e.g I only eat laxatives and Kobe Beef.

And whilst on the topic of Dinner Conversation, be sure to have a wide vernacular of the way in which you can describe the wine, e.g I feel this 1975 Cote Du Rhone De Klonopin is very volatile, acidic, tannin, jammy, oaky,  has a tight bodice, corky,  full of depth, heavy aroma like vagina, earthy,  oxidized, maderized,  sulphury, complex, musky, chocolatey, licorice-y, flabby, full bodied, smoky, spicy, cum in your mouth

Frightening House Guests on July 4th Weekend Result in a Near Mass Murder of Trust Fund Wasps

Alas,  July 4th Weekend, the Nantucket Red, The Johnny Walker Blue, and and the Vicodin White make me proud to be a Republican American with A European Accent- I don't normally like to invite guests to my Father's home, as I am a terrible Host as the only item on my itinerary is to black out and find a wealthy husband and ipso facto proceed to make my guests do my laundry and correct my tourettes.

I rely on brother and sister for guests on normal occasions in the summer, but this year, through pain staking recovery I had made an astrologist friend at the soul cycle studio. Not Basic. Different.  I was soaked when I met him because I thought he had money and could dance to Beyonce and his father was an alcoholic gambler. Family Drama and Exercise is my cup of Jizz and I thought he was the answer to all of my problems- a wealthy Non White person who I did not have to have sex with and who would buy me brunch whilst spitting racial slurs and people bashing.

I invited him to Nantucket, the land of Ralph Lauren, Jetties Beach, and second marriages sauteed in my delusion that I am just as clutch as my Sister, Duchess of the PCH, CA 90210.  He was the fauxest of the faux pas and I am shocked that he did not pistol whip every single member of my family with one of his low class poorly bred dead beat father's weapons that he mentioned he stumbled upon while choreographing routine to Oops I did it again. Well, I know for Certain that I am stronger than yesterday and will never let a Non White person who doesnt have a job at Morgan Stanley or know the Pope manipulate me into believing that people that live off their parents and dont have a drug problem is a legitimate lifestyle choice.

This guest was arguably the most traumatic experiences of my life, counting when my uncle Raped me Thanksgiving of 1999. Not just because he didnt drink alcohol or want to fuck me, but made my father, my sister, brother feel awkward.  and one particular dear friend, an intelligent brunette financier, heir to Thomson Reuters so uncomfortable that she called her shrink slash mother and asked if we were in intermittent danger from a child who suffered from an Ego the size of Saturn and a repressed mutual obsession with his own mother and my own brother. Shrink Mother said perhaps, and we uberjetted him off the island Teterboro back straight to where he came from.
If I learned anything from this experience it is that all my guests should be screened by my friends to ensure that they are not the next Columbine meets Nantucket and that they like to snort blow with their diploma.