To Thine OwnSelf Be True: Whateva Whateva I do What I want

I am who I am whether Im with the Janitor, the CEO, my drug dealer, and my Accountant Hashtag No New Friends
and so I beg the critical question, am I personally derailing my own professional growth by acting like an idiot so that I can be fired and  forced to not work and focus on my ultimate goal of being a stay at home without the kids wrapped up in a Bi- Coastal Existence with a side order of Trips to Nantucket and Cote D'Azur?  How do you say Duh in Arabic?

Par Examplay, just when I am managing critical issues such as deciding what color eye shadow Hillary Clinton should use for her Vanity Fair Spread to retaliate Monica Lewinisky's rather anti climatical most recent interview, as Where was the cum? Where was the Cigar? Where were the nods and approvals to the liberal media elite? I told her to channel her inner Nancy Reagan.

What Im Loving This Nano: Your interests design the energy that moves you

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The Soundtrack to my Life: The Violins in Psycho

It is with keen awareness and a critical eye, that I am a wealthy sociopath with tourettes and a penchant for boys with cigars who date raped their dates at the Sig Ep formal in Tit-tu-ana. So I have recently started dating this Crass suitor who is on a first name basis with Nancy Pelosi and uses words like swell.

On our first couple of dates, I realized that in order to Woo him I had to pretend that I couldn't speak English and that everything he said was perfect; I then realized that my true colors manifested and alas, I could not pretend I was a ditzy blonde from long island who chews orbit gum and drinks lattes and calls her mom. I am a hardcore Conspiracy Theorist trying to infiltrate myself into the Russian Mafia and or A Chic terrorist organization for the purpose of a stronger instagram following. I also like to fuck on the first date usually outside or in a hotel room that is not mine. 

What are you thankful for?

Its been a long standing tradition in my family since the Titanic to go round the table and express thanks. I personally hate Thanksgiving because I am unappreciative, ungrateful, and thankless. Plus the two places I love most are closed; the bank and the pharmacy.
I also detest gravy and birds. So it is with kicking and screaming that I board the plane to Paris to see my relatives; with enough heroin up my vagina.
I took a glance round the first class lounge at British Airways, and in order to appease my therapist decided to look deep within the confines of my vapid spirit and try to think of a thing or two to be thankful for.
Alas; Here is what I have come up with;
1. I am thankful that 70% of the low tier analysts at Goldman know where my clitoris is
2. I am thankful that Xanax is not difficult to break up so I can easily share with friends and family
3. I am thankful that I can buy a gun on the internet
4.  I am thankful that my Porn downloaded before Con Edison shut off the Electricity
5. I am thankful that my cleaning lady can't find my marijuana
6. I am thankful that Taylor Swift has embraced that sex sells.

Act 2: Scene 6: Harvard 2004

Excerpt from  my daddy financed-cracked out on ritalin- Screenplay
drafted in a pretentious pseudo European coffee shop with questionable wifi:

Location: Cambridge Dorm: Nadine and Alexa have known each other 3 months.
Nadine Age 18, sociopath from Beverly Hills
Alexa Age 18, Senator of Tennessee 's Daughter, a bulimic bible thumping Republican Virgin 

Nadine: Alexa, Do you mind if I have a few of the guys over that I met from Harvard Business last week? And do you mind picking up a few bottles of the Moet Chandon on your way to class? Im late for a Brazillian Wax and then Im going to Cosmo's Moms Birthday Party. 

Alexa: Cosmo's mother?

Nadine: You know Cosmo, My West Indies Drug Dealer with the dreadlocks and the lazy eye! Anyway his mother is in town and she is just the sweetest. I won't have time to pick up the liquor. So I mean. Do you mind?

Alexa: I have my women's NRA meeting at the Lauderee that just opened. I suppose I could pick up a few bottles for you, please pay me back in American dollars, Your Euros are worthless on Campus. 

Nadine: Can I do half and Half?

Alexa: Nadine, Honestly, I am trying to do you a favor. 

Nadine: American Dollars, Crisp straightly ironed 50s. No Hundreds. Ben Franklin was a Vegan which gives me nightmares. So you're cool with the party here?

Alexa: Well its Saturday, and I have to make mass by noon on Sunday, so If you promise to keep it down after 1 am that should be ok

Nadine: O right your Mass, I completely forgot proceeds to start cutting cocaine lines from her black Amex. So Le me ask you something, What does God say about threesomes? 

Alexa: Nadine,  I mean, I don't really know. I think God wants you to be with one person at one time, but Im not sure.

Nadine: Can you ask?

Alexa: Ask?

Nadine: The pastor or the priest or the 7th Heaven molestation reverend

Alexa: O my, I mean I don't know how I feel about asking the Pastor about threesomes, that seems a little unseemly

Nadine: O MY GOD. I am being rude! Can I offer you some cocaine?

Alexa: Thanks, but Ive told you. I don't like drugs.

Nadine: Right Right, Fascinating Fascinating. Im Listening. Im Listening. Im not understanding. 

Alexa: Nadine, Im fine if you have your friends over to our dorm. Will you promise not to play any Loud music with the word umm, Bitches in it? 

Nadine: OOOh. Thats going to be so tough. Can we compromise? What about the part where Britney goes, Its Britney Bitch. 

Alexa: Ok. You know Nadine, maybe Ill stay, I can't believe Peter broke up with me. I was Miss Teen Nashville! I cook great food? (whispers) I even let him touch my boob!

Nadine: Your Boob! Jesus Christ, I hope the room service is good in Hell. 

Alexa: Nadine, physical contact is a big deal for me. He ended things for no reason, we were supposed to get married. 

Nadine: Maybe he didn't really like you, and had aspirations of his own, and since your father lost the election, he no longer saw the effort of your investment. Your total package became less of a package, especially since you say you weren't putting out. 

Alexa: No. There is no way Peter was with me for my Father, we met at Christian Youth Group! We were 14 years old. I think he is just going through something, maybe when I go home for Christmas Break I can win him back. Will you help me. 

Nadine; O wow, I would.. but I don't really want to. He sounds like a politically social climbing faggot. Why don't you stay around when the Harvard Business guys come around. maybe you'll find one who likes Jesus and practices abstinence, although in grade school we were told that those people were considered schizophrenic. 

Alexa: Nadine, you pretend you are a happy girl, but do you what I think? I think you have a spiritual void that you try to fill with cocaine and sex. 

Nadine: Yea and it really works. Let God and Let God and Let Dick am I right?

The Dinner Party;

I understand that I am arguably the worst dinner guest to invite to a dinner party and almost worst to sit next to. I make known that I am extremely wellreadwellbred by telling you what books Im reading insert the notion that I have subscribed to the Economist since I was 12, and make up facts about World War II to sound elegant, refined, and disturbed.
I will judge you by the fact that you watch television and don't own a gun.
I will ask you about what porn you masturbate to, how your eating disorder manifests in your place of business, your inside trading investment strategy and make assumptions about your race slash net worth.
 I come 2 hours early, with a half finished bottle of Veuve and flowers that have been dead since Clinton was disbarred.  I offer to help, but instead supervise and chain-smoke out the window and judge people's instagrams. Then I make a mental note to copy their filter and text them that we should get together with sexually inappropriate emoticons. I rifle through you bathroom, use your cologne, steal your klonopin, and sometimes clog your toilet with a post cocaine poop.
I arrive poorly dressed with a beat up fake chanel bag, slit wrists, and crushed up xanax that has fallen into my purse mixed with keys and my antidepressants that I colored on using cray pas.
Alas, in my most recent excursion I happened to arrive two hours late to the wrong dinner, and was so busy telling the staff about my issues with my life coach and my inability to find good dog groomer that I realized I was in the wrong pied a terre.
But mostly, my inconsiderate political incorrectness manifests in my refusal to make small talk about where your coworkers go to lunch, your commute, and who your father knows, not because I have probably fucked him but because I am much more interested in the topics to which you want to drown in cc St. Tropez Yachts.
Conclusion; beautiful events, beautiful people, manic energy. Note to my multiple personalities; Shut the fuck up and provide better booze and better anecdotes about my Trip to Cuba where I slept with Fidel's Cousin who got me pregnant and bribed me with a life Supply of Cuban cigars in exchange for the abortion.
See you at the St. Regis.

Tea at the Plaza with DMX

There are few and far activities I enjoy less than spending time in hotel lobbies. Alas, my dear friend DMX was in town for the weekend developing a new strand of marijuana and visiting his grandmother when he texted me to have Tea.
We sat in the room at the Plaza that has 15 types of tea and no food. I admired his new tattoo and he told me that he was robbed of the role of Daddy Warbucks in Annie the movie.
I met him during a power outage in South Beach. It was pouring rain and I did not have an umbrella.

i- 594 ballot passing

Alas, it is with keen observance and awareness of the present day that I write this blog-post  to you in the moonlight in my Jacuzzi- bible in one hand, glass of gin and tonic in the other. As I filled up the jets, my ocelot, Wayne L.P wandered into my bathroom with a peculiar expression on his face, as if he was trying to tell me that something was happening. “Mr Wayne, My Darling, I said, will you help me bedazzle my weapon after my bath while we watch the evening news?”

I had just returned home from my women of the NRA Seattle Chapter meeting with dear classmates from Miss Porters.  Tonight we decided to have a bible study and had a round robin where we shared why we loved the story of David and Goliath. I wondered if the story would have turned out the same way had Goliath had a gun.

My handgun was an heirloom that I had received from my Great Aunt Bianca, who had tragically drowned herself in her pool in East Hampton when she heard that her husband had gambled away their fortune at the Casino in Las Vegas. She left the gun in her will to me, much to her daughter’s disappointment; but if you ask me, it was a good decision as my cousin suffers from bipolar disorder and is also boring; a lethal combination.

My handgun was a rare .9mm, in which only 300 models were made, 10 remain here in Washington and the other 290 were used in the Black Ops ATF “Gun Walking" scandal in which several agents purposely allowed licensed firearms dealers to sell weapons to illegal straw buyers hoping to track the guns to Mexican thugs. As a  sidenote, the agent who exposed this conspiracy was my 8^th grade boyfriend who was really nice to me.

I digress.

Aunt Bianca’s handgun was one of my most prized possessions as it served as the vital reminder that I had the power to protect myself and my ocelot should someone try to poach Wayne LP. It was a symbol of my independence and my inner strength even though as soon as I get married I will immediately stop working and devote myself to meaningless charities.  I decided to add some much needed bling to my weapon in the hopes that the rhinestones would trigger my boyfriend into proposing during the Obama Administration so that I would have at least one fond memory of his term.  After gluing the last stone to my handgun, I paused in admiration, and took a moment of gratitude. I picked up my needlepoint that I was making for my soon to be fiancé that said Jesus Loves a Winner. I turned on the TV and heard news more traumatic then when I did not get a bid for Delta Delta Delta in 2001 at the University of Tennessee.  I-594 had passed. What in fresh Hell was this?  What the world was coming to? I fingered my NRA badge that I received during a shooting the National Women’s Shooting competition and was so angry I shredded it to pieces. Gun Violence is not caused by waspy pinot drinking well educated wannabe socialites with a pseudo ivy league degrees, like yours truly, but by mentally unstable youth who did not get laid in high school. This is not our problem, it is a mental health issue about bullying and stuff.

 This bill passing is indicative of a critical problem, a fear of guns. I am afraid of democrats with cellulite  and the inability to tell crystal from moet chandon but that does not mean I will not ban them from my soon to be boyfriend’s restaurant establishment.

5 ways to make 5 Basic things not Basic- Lets first Start by calling us Basic Cunts

Alas, I wake up with ferocious night terrors damp in sweat wrapped in my white duvet with the chronic  guileless gut wrenching fear that I am a Basic Cunt. Do you know what I mean though?

A superficial ritalin meth dependent bulimic alcoholic with a penchant for Room Service Vogue Cigarettes and Salad Nicoise Jizz on The Side.

I woke up with a low Tier tech executive  on the side of my bed, whom I took home when I blacked on Murray Hills de Cote D'Azur De Hollywood Hills and played the just the tip game. 

He believes he is on the brink of the next retarded dating slash food delivery app, where a jew delivers sushi and vodka to your doorstep and then goes down on you and takes you to Nello's and Fred's at Barney's. 

I only told him that his App was a silly idea because I was jealous I had not thought of it first. Luckily I have every Angel Venture Capitalist cell phone number and plan on stealing the patent a demain bientot. 

I digress.

When we awoke both hungover, he ,late for a meeting, and me late for pretend work, I told him I had to get a Coffee and an adderal and that perhaps we could see each other again at Gelinas, a hot spot for anorexic hipster up-and- coming musicians in the Middle East and in Venice 90210. 

Ah so you are basic he said. Alas, my fear had been realized. and facing your fear isn't so bad, because once you face your fear head-on, you have some Muhammad Ali Bad Ass choices, give up or give in or give it all you got it. 

Here is the outline of a basic existence and here is the antidote laced with Glitter and 1982 Pinot Noir to correct it, so you too can become a fabulous well dressed well bred well red slightly less basic whore. 

1. Pumpkin Spice Lattes - 

Antitode: (i)Throw it up, (ii) mix it with quayludes (iii) mix it with gin and poison and give it to a homeless person who looks like he voted democrat. 

2. Yoga pants

(i) have an arabic phrase on the ass (ii) wear  a Giaccomo Versace Top with it from the collection before he was murdered. (iii) Invent a new type of Yoga.

3. Instagram 

(i) obtain a wealthy rapper following (ii) include tasteful semi nudes (iii) post photos at critical political events with a caption that makes no sense but is rifled with big words and conservative hashtags.

4. Netflix

(i) don't tell anyone you watch it (ii) If you must indulge in the television, only watch Porn or Prison Break (iii) use your own password and maintain the strict policy that you do not share. 

5. Your pathetic stalking of your ex-boyfriend

If you are going to pine over a has been low tier Merril Lynch Analyst with a pseudo Ivy League degree with a small dick and smaller stock portfolio who can't tell the difference between Rothko and De Kooning than you need a higher dose of lexapro, but if you insist on basic stalking, here are some improvements to up your game 

(i) get binoculars (ii) get bank statements and his gmail (iii) Become best friends with his boss to the point where you know where his wife gets Brazilian Waxed 

November Goals, Bringing Soul Cycle to a War Torn Syria

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