Wednesday, January 26, 2005

Soy un perdedor

Yesterday’s lunch at Morton’s became a boxing match. Dad threw the first punch when he cross-examined me for being late. I told him it wasn’t my fault because of the traffic and my cell phone battery died. He shot me down telling me I should have left earlier. He sliced away saying what if this was a job interview? Being late doesn’t make a good first impression.

I just stared at my napkin not saying anything, wishing I was reading a Cosmo. The waiter who took our order interrupted his cross examination. Than he got call from the office and was talking on his cell giving me room to breathe while stared at the tbales of people eating dead cow. Right on cue the food arrived when finished his call.

Between mouthfuls of steak, shrimp cocktail and creamed spinach we threw verbal punches. I ripped into him with a guilt trip telling him how hurt I felt when he sent that email to me and I was so depressed. He told me he was glad that it had that affect. I could have stabbed him with my steak knife. I told him thank you for turning everyone against me. He shot back saying I didn’t turn anyone against you. That situation is your own making. At this point I was ready to throw the table at him.
He kept asking me what are you going to do with your life?

I was like I wanted to be a rock star but according to your email I am not even qualified to pour coffee. After all, I am such a big loser and I can’t do anything right that since I am a worthless little girl.

When I was done. He sat with cold eyes and quietly said to me that I was not worthless and that he loved me very much and that he wanted to help me. And asked if I wanted it. I was like if it gets everyone off my back, fine.

After he paid the check, I kissed him on the cheek and grabbed a cab while he got his car service..

Oh. The steak was the bomb. Juicy and rare, just the way I like my men.

Sunday, January 23, 2005

Keeping Warm and Peace Talks

Saturday morning was a zoo. I forgot to do fresh direct and went to my local supermarket. It was a mob scene of people. It really brings the worst out of people. I just grabbed the staples. Ben and Jerry's, a bag of oranges and V-8.

I spent the rest of the night cleaning out the tivo with OC and Desperate Housewives. I can't wait for Alex and Marissa to hook up. The tension near the end of the episode was sick. I hope Caleb has a heart attack while they are dropping chalupas. What the hell is up with me? First Lee Lee and now the OC. Why am I so attracted to women.

This morning Mom called. We spoke for an hour. I told her I was still upset at Dad. She was like "Was helying?" I was line "No but did he have to say it that way?" Mom was like he doesn't know what else to do." Then she wnet on why Ididn't call for her New Year's and that I could call more that twice a week to say hello. I said I was sorry.

Mom is arranging peace talk. We are debating either Morton's or Old Homestead. She is having a hankering for steak.

Ohmigod. Johnny Carson just died. That is so messed up. They are talking about it on MSNBC.

Keep warm everyone.

Wednesday, January 19, 2005

Never Been Kissed and Third Watch

Last Sunday I did some open houses and I went to see this duplex in Murray hill for 1.25. It was really nice. It had 1.5 baths a renovated kitchen that had a Viking stove with 6 burners and subzero fridge and plenty of closets. I learned by NYS law that all duplexes needed a second entrance, which is called an egress.

But the best part was seeing her.


Lee lee apartment hunting, I could not believe it. She was with a guy who I think was her broker, I think she was there to see the same duplex. She so beautiful, she was wearing a long coat that just extenuated her beauty. And her eyes. Ohmigod, they can just suck you in. I knew she was pretty when I saw Never been kissed and Here on Earth but in person she just glows. I have the hugest girl crush on her. I mean I am not a lesbian but Lee Lee presents a really strong argument to switch teams.

Facts about Lee Lee from Imdb

Real name: Liliane Rudabet Gloria Elsveta Sobieski: No wonder she shortened it.

Graduated from Harvard University : She is soooo smart.

Her father’s side are descendants of Jan III Sobieski, king of Poland between 1674 and 1696. He has a title that he does not use.: No wonder she looks so royal.

She is 5’10: Trust me she really is that tall. Which makes me wonder why she was the same height as Tom Cruise in Eyes Wide shut. I guess they must have used a lot of phone books that day.

She auditioned for Interview with a Vampire but lost the role to Kirsten Dunst: Lee Lee would have been sickest vampire ever.

After the open houses I ended up at Whole foods to get dinner and than at Whole Body to stock up on pine bar soap. And I saw this guy in the herbs section and we locked eyes twice. He seemed annoyed that I was looking at him. He looked really familiar but I couldn’t place his face. He was tall and wide and reminded me of Robert Deniro, he carried himself like a cop or fireman. He wore glasses and had graying sideburns. When I was on line the cashier was taking to a customer about the guy from third watch who was in the store. Then I realized who he was.

lindsay lohan mom

I am not a hardcore fan of Third watch but I have seen enough episodes to know its pretty good. Now that I think about it the guy who plays Sully is dwarfed by the actor who plays his partner on the show, which means that guy must be like 7 feet tall in real life.

Here’s some info on Skip thanks to imdb
Real name Robert Lee Sudduth IV: I wonder if they called him General Lee when he was a kid
Singer-songwriter and co-founder of Minus Ted. He is a member of New York's Rumble in the Redroom sketch comedy ensemble and loves race cars: A real renaissance man

His mother wanted him to become a doctor: Sounds like my mom.

Monday, January 17, 2005

The end of the Manhattan club scene

I almost s*** a brick when VD emailed me this article about this service which will get you into clubs for a price. This is a complete B&T nightmare. Basically you pay $350 to $1250 and have people get you into the VIP rooms and hang out with you. Basically they are club hos paid to make you look like a player.

"I hope there's a line 50 feet long at Spirit just so I can bypass the whole thing," Mr. Lima, who lives and works in New Jersey, said as he headed out of Cielo. "You know what it feels like to get out of the car and walk straight into the club without having to deal with doormen or bouncers. It's amazing."

Yeah. I know that feeling but I earned that feeling. Unlike you.

A week before Mr. Lima visited Cielo, three women in their mid-20's from Weehawken, N.J. - a nurse, a clerk and a teacher - paid $350 each to be ferried from Copacabana to Plaid and then to Webster Hall. All three are regular clubgoers and could have passed through the portals without the aid of CENSORED, though they probably would have had to stand in line a while.

Ohmigod the business is run in B&T territory and all of their customers are B&T.

He told the story of a dozen executives from a Minneapolis financial consulting firm who were visiting New York for a conference. "We didn't plan this part," Mr. Roefaro said, "but they hired fake paparazzi to photograph them getting in and out of the limo. They also had their own velvet rope and red carpet they carried around with them."

What the f***? Hire your own paparazzi? Bring your own red carpet? I did that at my bat mitzvah.

If this business catches on the club scene is going to look like this.

I will be so p*** off if Manhattan nightlife turns into the Jersey shore. Part of the club experience is trying to get in. My first time I went to a club was Webster Hall. That was when it first opened up and before it became an NYU breeding ground. I was a freshman than and a bunch of us tried to get in even though we were wearing these scandalous Donna Karan outfits and these really great fake ids VD's big brother made on his mac the bouncers wouldn't let us in. I was so depressed. But then my sister schooled me in club tactics.

Its simply all about the attitude. Not how much money you have or how nice you are. You got to have the attitude that you are all that. That its the clubs privillege that you are even standing on the line. They don't want people who look like they have never been in a club. They want people who act like they go to these places all the time. But be cool. Talk to the bouncers. But just talk to them. Don't beg to get in. Just chill. Make them feel that hanging out with them is cool. If somone walks past the line and gets in. Be cool. Don't be jealous. Just think of them as people who could not hack it and have no self esteem.

The next week we put on our war paint and broker low cuts and tank tops and the DKNY army marched over to Webster Hall at 11pm. We acted the part and chilled with the bouncers and at 1am they us in. It was so awesome being in the club. I don't remember much since I was completely toasted that night but we seemed to have made a good impression with the bouncers because after that we were always on the guest list. Word spread about us and soon we had all access because the promoters knew we always made the scene. Girls would curse us out for getting passed the line but we just laughed at them. Part of the experience is the hassles. That's waht makes it so much fun and when walk past that line you thats means you earned the stripes.

If this catches on it will change the whole club dynamic. When a club first opens up and is mixed together like a good pomitini with the right promoters, location, lighting, bartenders, waitresses and DJ than it can last at least 2-3 years. Clubs like Studio 54 can last for more than a decade. But that hardly happens. What will happen is that clubs wil last maybe less than a year. They will open up. Get hot. And these party whores come in and lead an invasion of B&T into the clubs which will make them suck so bad. But the club promoters won't care. They will bleed these club hos and their johns dry and after the club shuts down the promoters just open another one. And the circle of life continues.

"I talked to someone at Marquee about our clients coming to the club, and she said, 'Sure, come down, we're interested,' " Mr. King said, and laughed. "I went there but the doorman wouldn't let me in."

I thought the Marquee was infested with B&T but they are really good at keeping them out. I think I will be hanging out there more often. This is the way a club should work.

Watch it. I am having my period

My irregular period has struck again. No I am not a ho. I was going to talk about my most awesome day and I am not in the mood to deal with this crap but alot of things have come up on this blog that are really p****** me off.

I think the biggest one is that people are calling me a racist for what I wrote

For your information in my freshman year I was a prom date for a half Japanese and half Italian senior from the upper west side. If I was racist would I do that?

As far as the my comment about equipment. That was a joke. If you can't handle it that's your problem. I felt embarassed by what people were saying so I took it back but than I thought, hey its their problem not mine.

Ole. I thought you learned your lesson the last time you tangled with me. Obviously you need another godsmack.

On the contrary. I've just read the post immediately above this one (unless someone manages to post another comment before this one goes up) and I completely disagree with the suggestion that people shouldn't read things if they don't like them. That assertion in itself shows a quite astonishing naivete for someone who aspires to a writing career.

I'm a regular reader of this blog, and yet I have utter contempt for its writer, assuming that she is in fact a real person. From the shallowness of her analogies to her almost complete lack of taste, tact, sense of self or understanding of the challenges faced by the 99.9% of the world's population who aren't affluent Manhattanites, she sickens my libertarian sould so deeply that I regularly choke on my Fairtrade coffee in the short time it takes me to read one of her poorly-written, poorly-spelled posts.

So where do you drink your fairtrade coffee? At the Dunkin Doughnuts where you work? I thought I recognized you. Next be quicker when you put cream cheese on my bagel. I have more taste in my pinky that you have in your entire body. The only challenges I need to understand are my own. I never said I was Mother Teresa. Besides its not my job. Why don't take your own advice and after your done rolling dough go help the world yourself.

I quite agree with one or two of the other posters on this thread. I find it beyond vile and contemptuous that you should choose to share this letter, written so earnestly, with the world. What were you expecting? Approval? Understanding? Sympathy?

Think Emap or Conde Nast will be publishing an article some time soon crowing about how a Gawker reference turned their fake blog into an internet sensation?

If people feel inferior because of the way I differentiate myself, I can't help that. Personally, I don't have that kind of complex. Yes, I'm a foreigner. Again, if that makes you feel inferior, fair enough. As it's a fact and not up for debate, though, I'd suggest that's a little futile.

Reading blogs is a waste of time? I disagree... one of the most important cultural phenomena in years. I take it that you're not wasting time here, just researching something?

I find it vile and contemptuous that you are even allowed to use a computer. Who are you to judge me? Who are to say what is right or wrong? I didn't hear anyone making you king of the universe. I do not regret putting that letter out there. What was I expecting? I don't know. I just felt I needed to show it to the world. But you can go F*** yourself with a chainsaw for trying to s*** all over me.

All you do is just bring the haters to gang up on me. Don't think I don't know what you are doing.

My Father once told me that people who throw big words like futile, inferior and phenomena are usally covering up a complex. Just because you are foreigner doesn't mean your better than any of us. You may have come from a different country but we do things differently around here. Go study for the SATS.

Btw, I could buy Emap and Conde Nast without blinking an eye. But you are right about one thing. I am a sensation. Don't you forget it Ole.

Now I know you're a fake, PP.

Honestly, you didn't figure out this blog was fake until today? The big outstanding questions are (1) is PP a guy or a gal? and (2) does PP dream of a book deal (and if so, have there been any nibbles yet)?

1) Obviously fake because no nyc loaded princess would waste her time blogging. Only losers blog and only losers read blogs.

Listen up you wage monkeys. Of course my life is fake to you. In your minds its a dream to be able to wake up at noon on a Monday. Grab lunch at Nobu, go shopping and drop a couple grand on 10 studded ipods for all of your best friends and family, Felis Ray Beach bags and a Furstenberg wardrobe and then hit B8. Unfortuanely what is not fake is your pettiness.

Book deal? That would mean work unless I can get my "tutor" from college to help me. Thank you VD. I would have never graduated on time without my "tutor's" help. I was thinking about posting photos of myself but I don't want to be attacked by you freaks, that means you Ole. I might change my mind

LES is nothing like UWS, thats why I live here.

Go back to the stale mink and passe' Logo Vernis totes of columbus circle, please don't come back.

P.S. You don't need a trust fund to get a platimum card

No you don't need a trust fund for a platinum card but you need a lot of money. Since you probably don't have since you live in LES. Its platinum not platimum. I'll go back to where I come from when you know you how to spell. You pay UWS prices in the LES. But there is a huge difference in what you get. And let me tell you LES has alot of catching up to do.

You are a name-dropper, I have been reading your blog (linked from gawker) for 5 minutes and I see LV, Lindsay Lohan and Jimmy Choo. As a proud NYC Fashionista I can only hope you are a joke - if you are for real I am glad to hear that you are not competing in the fashion olympics where the brands you brag about are has-beens.

LV has become pedestrian (hense chinatown)
Jimmy Choo is so 5 years ago (jimmy who?)
Lindsay Lohan contradicts herself (I don't want people talking about me anymore, so I'll just write a pop song about it)

Fashionista? fashion olympics? Listen girlfriend or drag queen or man whore, YOU are the name dropper has been. The only people who use those words are the bridge and tunnel who get their fashion tips from watching Cojotime on the Today show. Chinatown only rips off the best which is why Louis is always first in line. Five years? Is that how long it took for you to save for a pair of used Jimmy's? Lindsay can say whatever is on her mind. Sometimes the only way an artist of her stature can communicate how she feels is through music. Of course you wouldn't know since you think the Baywatch theme song is a classic.

Maybe you and your highly intellectual friends should look something up before labelling yourselves. Although since you are the Prada Princess I guess you are only about labels.

Claque is a group of paid persons usually theatre or opera - they are paid to applaude.

Seems indicative of your life. Pretty much paid to do nothing or paid not to use your brain.

I think you should rename yourselves the CLAP since that's probably all you'll ever acheive in this life.

Thanks for the laughs you sound like a bunch of skanks!


You are so smart. I didn't realize they taught these things at clown college. Girl, I don't need to get paid. Because to get paid would mean I would have to work and I don't need to work. Labels make the world go around its what gives life meaning. Of course we sound like skanks to you because of all the guys we meet. But then again Sasha you couldn't attract flies if a cow crapped on her head.

Princess, wake up and smell the Lox. There is a whole world outside your LV bag. If you acted with some awareness (example - giving some of your boundless time and money to tsunami victims) people would be a whole lot nicer to you. While you are looking for an apartment that will house servants people who lost everything are sleeping on the ground. You voted for Kerry but imagine what could have happened if you donated half or your monthy shopping allowance to his campain OR simply spent some of your endless free time encouraging people to vote.

Smell the lox. That's cute. Did you use the word Lox because of my heritage? Now who is the person that needs awareness? Kerry had a bankroll bigger than mine yet it still didn't make a difference. Don't tell me what to do and what to think. That's my business and my business alone.

2) Some guys like their women a little thick, gotta admit I like to watch that belly jiggle when i pump them myself. Nothing wrong with that.

You should buy a better brand of blow up doll.

ARRRGH! CRAMPS! Going bed.

Saturday, January 15, 2005


I feel like crap.

Friday, January 14, 2005

Interesting article

I found this article on this chinese guy who wants to be a porn producer.

Aren't they limited by their uhh equipment? Maybe he should stick to being a computer programmer.

But I think it is kind of cool he's doing his own thing.

Thursday, January 13, 2005

Why I won't be marrying an Arab guy anytime soon

This article In Arab culture, fat women are considered to be more attractive. I have heard black guys are like their women hefty but I they don't force feed them.

Here are some parts of the article that are really messed up.

Jidat Mint Ethmane grew up in a nomad family in this impoverished nation in the western Sahara. When she was 8, she says, her mother began to force-feed her. Ms. Ethmane says she was required to consume a gallon of milk in the morning, plus couscous. She ate milk and porridge for lunch. She was awoken at midnight and given several more pints of milk, followed by a pre-breakfast feeding at 6 a.m.

If she threw up, she says, her mother forced her to eat the vomit. Stretch marks appeared on her body and the skin on her upper arms and thighs tore under the pressure. If she balked at the feedings, her mother would squeeze her toes between two wooden sticks until the pain was unbearable. "I would devour as much as possible," says Ms. Ethmane. "I resembled a mattress."

Don't these people realize that when you binge you need to purge.

Gavage in Mauritania originated decades ago at a time when many prosperous families kept slaves. Back then, men stayed lean through working while women led more sedentary lifestyles. Faced with life in a harsh desert landscape, men typically sang songs not about the beauty of nature, but the attractiveness of the large women who might bear them healthy children.

Force-feeding is usually done by girls' mothers or grandmothers; men play little direct role. The girls' bellies are sometimes vigorously massaged in order to loosen the skin and make it easier to consume even greater quantities of food.


I think this is all JLo's fault. Ever since she first became popular I started noticing more overweight girls were wearing belly shirts with these noticeable paunches and really huge butts. I am really glad Ben broke up with her because now her reign of terror over women's asses is over. I am glad the big butt thing is so over. T was so insecure about her ass that she thought about getting injections.

Tuesday, January 11, 2005

Rolling in Williamsburg

VD and the girls raided my apartment Saturday night and dragged me out. The girls tried cheering me up traumas with their own parents. VD's Dad threatens to cut her off every week unless she gets a real job. Her Dad bankrolls her PR agency which promotes parties. But the last party she did was a year ago for fashion week. But VD starts sulking about how is affairs mentally scarred her as a child. Than he just backs off and tosses another 10 grand. Guilt. Its a beautiful thing.

They all have their gigs. T transferred to 5 schools and than decided she wanted to be a fashion designer and is now taking classes at FIT. B's parents have given her a year to do what she wants but she plans on stretching it to five than she'll get married. K's parents don't care what she does as long as she marries a nice heart surgeon.

I am still figuring out what I want to do.

When I found out the party was in Brookly I had a s**fit. I hate Brooklyn. I hate taking the train there. T was like its cool, we're going to Williamsburg which is the new West Village and these people were cool.

T knows alot about Brooklyn because her Dad lost a ton of cash on a bar there. He went in with some friends to buy a bar in Williamsburg. After buying it, they were approached by some people in the neighborhood who recommended that they buy there booze from them and that they should get new tables which the people from the neighborhood were more than happy to sell to them. But T's Dad's friends told them no way. T's Dad learned that wa s big mistake when their distributor in Jersey cancelled all booze shipments. When they asked why. The distributor told them it wasn't worth his business. T's Dad later found out that some people in the neighborhood had given the distributor a call. T's Dad realized they were all in over their heads after that and that things were done differently in this neighborhood.

He asked to be bought out but the whole group was strapped for cash and they could only offer half. He took it and ran. The rest of his friends were not so lucky. Their bar was made to feel very unwelcome in the neighborhood and a couple of months later they closed it down.

T's Dad now owns a bunch of parking lots in Manhattan.

VD looked so amazing with her tan. I had some color but she looked tropical. She had a great time in the Caribbean and also brought back a new name for us. From now on we are called the claque. She heard the term from some opera buff who was trying to get into her pants. They are basically the mafia of opera and they beat opera stars who don't pay them money.

The party was in a small two bedroom in Greenpoint. The crowd was a mix of musicians and other art boys. Men were all emo boys dressed in jeans, sweaters with ties and long hair or faux hawks. This one guy was wearing these ugly shag red ugg boots with matching red shag jacket. He also had this seat belt strapped holding up his pants. The boys barely made grade for hook ups but definitely not boyfriend material.

The food was the “I’m too cheap because I spent all my money on pot” variety which was hummus and pita bread. And the drinks were the usual beer, wine and whiskey. There were some cute guys who talked to us but some of the girls were standing guard around their boyfriend. That’s right. Keep yo men away from the claque.

Music was playing but no one really danced but just talked really loud. We all managed conversations with most of the people. I found out that everyone was from Emerson or connected in some way to Emerson. Our connection was T because she saw one of their bands and ended up hooking up with the drummer who lived in the apartment. I talked to some of the girl s, most of the were like actresses or musicians. This one girl has been temping for 4 years while auditioning.

At one point we all ended up on the fire escape where B nearly lost one of her high heels. We smoked and looked at Brooklyn. Things started getting stale so were about to had back when ugg boots told everyone that they were going dancing at Black Betty. Everyone piled into two cars and we went to this dive bar. One of the guys that VD was talking to told us about this place called which served dim sum and had a bar in the basement and there was a band playing there. There was a bit of live music withdrawal in us so we took off with some two of the emo boys.

The best thing about M was that they allowed smoking in the basement bar. It seems Bloomberg has limits on his reach. The band hadn’t started playing yet and our ears were being slapped by this music that I can only describe similar to the music they played on Mike Meyers sketch Sprokets.

The crowd was same as the party but more guys wearing black hoodies, black sweaters and jeans. In fact everyone was dressed in black. The Claque would have stood out in our pink and white belly shirts and micro minis but it was too dark. All we did was stand and drink while listening to this lame music. Finally the band came on which was this tiny girl and two guys. The whole crowd went ape** when they hit the stage which was just the other side of the basement and began to tune their instruments. B started get really whiny and watned to leave. K wanted to stick around to see what they were about. When they started to play we listened for a minute than VD yelled out Claque and we took off ditching the Emo boys. We later found out the band was playing goth industrial. It must be popular for people who don't bathe because there was alot of people who could have used a shower.

We ended up back at Black Betty and danced to retro Michael Jackson and got really drunk with the drinks all the emo boys bought for us. The williamsburg girls were getting really pissed when VD began sucking face with the bartender who turned out to be the ex of one of the girls.

B got her Dad's car service to pick us up and I was glad we were leaving. At least I would not have to hold anyone's hair in the bathroom.

Saturday, January 08, 2005

Out of Love?

Yesterday, my sister kept calling and leaving messaages to call her back and stop screening my calls. I emailed Dad's letter to her with nasty message thanking her for making me look stupid.

She kept calling back and I was going to ignore her but calling back leaving these really vicuosu messagae that I was spoiled little whore that I should get a job at starbucks but I was probably too stupid to poor coffee and that Dad was right that I was completely wasting my life.

I turned off the machine but than she kept calling my cell. I turned that off and than I got a call from the doorman that my sister left a message and wanted to speak to me. I just gave up and called her.

She said Dad must have been really upset because she noticed some spelling errors and other grammer mistakes in the letter. Usally his letters are perfect since he has secretary write them. Only when he is really ticked off does he do his own work.

I told her thanks for turning everyone against and making me look like an idiot. She shot back that I should thank myself. GRRRRR! I was like why is everyone giving me so much grief. She was like what grief? Have you seen the news? Seeing your whole family wiped out by a tsunami and then not knowing if their alive or watching somone you love slowly die of an infection that could be cured by walking into a duane reade is grief. I'm just being a brat!

She went on about how that all of us wanted me to be happy but could not stand by while I wasted my life. And if it meant stressing me out and getting me upset to change my ways than so be it.

She left it as this.

"We say these things out of love. If we didn't love you we would never say these things to you. We would have just let you screw up your life. A trustfund will not decide what you want to do with your life. That's your job"

I responded by saying, "I hate to see what you would all do out of hate."

She was like whatever. Just get a job.

After I hung up, I was watching TV which said that Brad Pitt and Jennifer Anniston
were getting a divorce. I started crying hysterically. I always thought they made the cutest couple. I remember seeing footage of their wedding, sitting next to each other enjoying the performance of that boy Harry Connick Jr. And I could wait for them to have kids. I mean their kids would so much cuter than Parker and Broderick I had this dream that that both families kids would be in competition with each other.

Than I got really depressed I mean if these two successful people can't even maintain a marriage what hope do I have?

VD has been leaving messages about a party tonight. I'm not going. I have the process all this love I have been getting.

Thursday, January 06, 2005

feeling bleah

Icky outside. Staying in the last couple of days and eating ding dongs and ben and jerry's and watching TV. I have to order fresh direct. Running low on chocolate mint chip. Screening phone calls. Mom left a bunch of messages asking why I haven't wished her a happy new year. VD is going crazy. Wants to hop the bars. i tell her I'm busy. Not in the mood to talk.

Monday, January 03, 2005

A letter from my Father.

I don't know what to say.

Dear ******,

The article above is about a lottery winner who since winning a tremendous fortune had been plagued with a series of tragedies which included losing thousands in gambling leaving a half million in his car unprotected which was stolen and making promises to charities which he was unable to keep.

The one common element to these tragedies was that he had a hand in them with his irresponsible behavior with his windfall.

This quote sums up the winner's state of mind

''This clown is not capable of handling a $10 bill, much less all those millions. Every time you turn around, he's having trouble with the laws of our state. What a waste of all that money."

But his greatest blow was when his granddaughter was discovered dead from a drug overdose.

"I would've torn up that ticket." is what his wife is quoted saying.

After reading these articles I not only felt great sadness about his life but it also made me think about our own situation. Since you have acquired your trust fund you have become lackadaisical in the direction of your life and your treatment of your family has become unacceptable, putting a tremendous amount of strain on all of us.

As far as I am concerned you are no different than that lottery winner wasting your life and money way on frivolous pursuits. Your sister tells me you want to be a rock star, but what do you know about the music industry? Do you know how to get an album deal, how a record is produced and have you ever even done an internship where you were made to fetch coffee and run errands?

I am not an expert however I am very well aware of the odds of success in that arena. For one Madonna, there are millions of waiters, bartenders, real estate agents and others who work for a dream that exists only in their mind. Often the closest these unfortunate souls get to stardom is a weekend gig playing the bar mitzvah circuit.

We brought you in this world as our own yet you do not show the proper respect or gratitude that is due to your parents. Instead you treat us as atm machines or as nagging dogs nipping at your heels. I shudder to think how you act in public. I suspect your the impression upon others is not favorable at all.

When your Grandmother implemented the trust funds I begged her not to allow you and your sister to have immediate access to this money and at least wait till you were both 35, married and able to understand the nature of what you would be given.

Your Grandmother refused, telling me that any type of enforcement could just make things worse. From her experience children often do the opposite of what parents want since children, unlike parents, do not have the foresight of years gone past.

I never understood her till now but I realize there was absolutely no way we could have prepared you for this burden. Only through facing this first hand would you be able to understand the gravity of your situation. But it frustrates me that you have yet to grasp even the fundamentals of managing your finances. I mean, what possessed you to think that an 11 million dollar apartment was the appropriate choice for you?

Today I will be liquidating the assets of a client who declared bankruptcy due to a series of unfortunate high-risk investments and the only thing he has left is a mansion in Florida, which he will have to sell in order to pay for his son's medical school tuition. However I think he is far luckier than I am. He may end up living in a condo in Boca Raton with his wife for the rest of his days, but his oldest daughter is an investment banker, his middle son is a successful lawyer and now his youngest son will be attending Harvard medical school. His greatest legacy in this world will not be the millions he once possessed but his children. I am still pondering what I shall leave when my time comes.

Besides your indolent treatment of your finances and family, my other chief concerns is the way you treat your time which is more valuable than any amount of money in the world. Money can be lost and gained but time can only be lost. I lie awake at night with this fear that you will not have found your way and end up becoming a spinster who lives alone with her 20 cats becoming bitter and angry with the realization that any opportunity to create meaning in your life is long past.

Your trust fund does not give you the right to do anything you want. It is an actually responsibility that has been given to you. And you are failing miserably in fulfilling it.

As parents we have failed in raising you properly and now your life is entirely out of our hands and we are helpless to assist you. In all honesty I think that lottery winner's tragedies are understandable. He lived a life of three meals a day and now he was given his very own feast which must have been truly overwhelming. However you were raised in this lifestyle and exposed to this world that this man had so much trouble adjusting too. Yet you show no signs of acquiring any knowledge from your upbringing.

I beg of you to please wake up and think very hard about who you are and what you are doing with your life besides focusing on dreams that will never come to fruition. You have many years ahead of you; please you use them in a productive manner and review your life. The last thing I want to do is compare you to your older sister. But my heart wells with great pride with her accomplishments. I am not telling you to become a doctor, get married to a lawyer and raise a family in Palos Verdes. If you yearn to become a doctor and get married then do it. If you desire to become an English teacher at Exeter that's fantastic too. But on this New Year please pick a path and walk it.

My intentions are not to hurt you with my words but to wound you as deeply as possible. Perhaps it’s the lawyer in me that brings this out but from where I stand great pain must be inflicted upon you in order for you to respond. You may hate me after this. But I don't how else to help you.



Saturday, January 01, 2005

Happy New Year!

We got completely hosed at Times Square. They wouldn't let us in cause we weren't wearing white. Apprently there was a dress code of white for the ice theme. VD tried to convince them that we were dress code was black ice but the PA, some nyu film grad, wouldn't let us in.

We ended up doing the meat market and hitting the clubs there. T was pissed the whole night because she told everyone she was going to be on tv hanging with Lindsay. After that we ran over to the meat market and ended up at a party in this amazing apartment on Houston. The host, some investment banker, ran his mouth about how he had an outdoor view of Katherine Hepburn's place.

I did meet some very cute guys. Both with accents One of them had a band that has just been signed with universal. Tall texan with blonde hair like honey wheat who is the drummer. Maybe I should move to Austin. Another one was this Irish guy from Long Island who worked as a physcial therapist. Usally I hate guys from Long Island. I had a bad experience when a bunch of guys from Hofstra crashed my 4th of July party at my house in the Hamptons.

He was a real macho guy, the type that could cook a good steak and build a deck all in the same day. He had long brong stringy hair that he slicked back. I could see why he chose to be a physical therapist. If he can talk a girl out of her pants he can talk a patient into doing exercises. No. Not with me. But not to say I didn't think about it.

There were these trio of EVs. That means east village types that are into keeping it real which means lots of makeup and salvation army clothing. They wore tight belly shirts that showed off their tatoos on their arms and backs while flirting with a bunch of brook brothers. Than this guy who looked like he walked out of a Maroon 5 video walked in. His face covered with his black bangs and he wore jeans and some black vintage shirt. The tattoo connection forgot about the brothers and just went crazy over him. The brunette who looked like an emaciated Jennifer Connely began dancing with bangface twitching her hips and moving her feet in a two step way. The brooks brothers were pissed seeing that their large bankrolls were no match for messy hair and heavy drug use.

It got very high school when a bunch of guys began upchucking from the sake bombs. One of them threw up while sitting on a leather chair. The host compeletly freaked.
At least I did not have to hold anyone's hair.

We ended up at a diner where we had fries and diet cokes.

My New Year's Resolution

Get a boyfriend
Buy a place
Get my parents off my back.