Spring cleaning

I am taking a break right now cleaning up my apartment. Its an absolute mess. This all happened with my atm card. I was out with VD and K with some boys from Brooklyn down in Williamsburg. We hung out in TG's apartment drinking and smoking and playing grand theft auto. We all decided to hit some bars when I went to the atm to get cahsit wouldn't take my card. I completely freaked out and spent like a half hour on my cell with the bank. They told me my atm card was expired and that they sent me a new one but I never got it. I asked them if they could re-activate my old atm but they were like no. I was so angry.

But it was cool since TG paid for my drinks. I got home at 2 am and woke up up at 8:30am because VD called me saying that she got into to a fight with her FB when she yelled at him for forgetting to call her and he was like what the hell was going and that he thought they had an understanding that he was just an f-toy and she was like what was the deal with Valentine's day? I finally got her off the phone when I told her I had to take a dump the size of a birthday cake.

When I got out I started going through my desk and found the atm card in a pile of papers. I felt so stupid. So I am now in the process of putting all my crap in boxes and the plan is to go through them and keep what is useful. I can believe I have this much paper in my life.

Hooray

Lindsay is Caleb's daughter and Alex and Marissa are dropping chulupas. It looks like Sandy and Kirsten are staying together. I can't believe Lindsay is leaving Ryan.

Julie's look was precious when she found out the truth and Alex and Marissa. Omigod Seth and Summer are getting back together. Its that damn plastic horse.

"Truth be told I didn't think you 'd make it past security."

"What are you doing?"

"What do you think?"


Awwwww. Its just like that movie with Tobey Maguire. Omigod Paris Hilton is going to be on.

Feeling better.

Valentine's Day

Last week the claque were out celebrating love or the illusion of it. Even VD's f**kbuddy got into the spirit of things with dinner and a carriage ride in the park. They didn't ask about me since they know my plans. I started the day watching a marathon including 3 o'clock high, The Blues Brothers and all three Back to the Futures . I ate a large pizza and drank a six pack of cream soda. I barely finished Millionaire next door and started to read feminine force but I fell asleep. Basically I was doing stuff that not remind me of Valentine's day.

I thought I was over him until I saw him at that open house. It was weird. For a second I wanted to walk up to him and grab him from behind. My arms locked around his waist while leaning my head in whispering into his ear asking him what he was doing.

But his girlfriend shattered that spell when when she walked into that picture. She was tall lean and blonde wearing hip hugger jeans and a black turtleneck. She held her jacket in one of her arms. I think I stared at them for awhile and I ran out. I hope they didn't see me.

I feel stupid, ashamed and unwanted. I want to dissappear. I thought I was over it but I was just numb and unfeeling until I saw him again.

Bobble Headed Japanese Girls

Watching MTV when they showed a clip of the Grammy's with Gwen Stefanie and Eve performing if I was a rich girl. It was a pretty cool performance. But I noticed something really odd. Gwen was surrounded by these freaky looking Japanese girls. I mean they were really scary looking. They were all squat and stocky with really big round heads with braids. I was scared that one of them would slip and crush Gwen or Eve with their bobble heads or their heads would fall off amd roll around like that ball in Raiders of the Lost Ark. They all look alike. They are probably related. They make great fashion accessories for Gwen.


Trying not to think about him.

You

You used to wake me up Sunday mornings with a warm plate of homemade waffles with strawberries and place it on my side in bed. You would take me out to Japanese films I didn't understand but then we would walk through the west village while you would explain the meaning of Tokyo Godfathers.

You used to check on me every night to make sure I was alright even when you dropped me off at my apartment. You were my security blanket, I never felt afraid, laying in bed while my head was on your chest listening to your heart beat. You listened to me read my poetry about high school, summer camp and my days as a child.

You used to play soccer in central park as captain of the skins while I would giggle out words like eye candy, manflesh and make up male porn star names for your teammates with my girl friends.

You used to call me whenever it would snow and tell me to come out to have a snowball fight and afterwards we would have hot chocolate at your apartment with marshmallows.

You were at an open house at an apartment in the upper west side looking at kitchen. You talked about how the kitchen needed work and you wondered if one of the walls could be knocked down.

But you weren't talking to me but the girl standing next to you.

I know this because I was there and I saw you both and I walked out before you could see me.

The new Ole

I am trying to stay positive. But some of these people are starting to get on my nerves. And I know I should ignore this but this beeyotch needs a one way ticket to the smackdown hotel.


I just wasted forty-five minutes of my life reading some of your back entries. I can never get those forty-five minutes back.

As a creative writing major you should be used to wasting your time.

You are a pathetic liar. Obviously, you are stealing bits and pieces of peoples' lives from gossip columns, magazines, and "novels" such as GOSSIP GIRL and THE DEVIL WEARS PRADA. At the very best, you are a scholarship student at Trinity who feels inadequate and unpopular, so you need to feel "cool" on the internet (good job) by posting this fake life. At worst, you are a chunky ninth-grader from Wyoming who dreams of being Paris Hilton, Jessica Simpson, or someone else "really cool" like that.

Obviously you have been smoking your own used tampons. The place I steal is from my own life, and what I go through everyday I gots alot to steal. Now you can call me a ninth grader from wyoming, you can say I am from the matrix but don't ever call me fat. Of course what I say is fake to you to you. Because you don't get it. Your like those bastards who tried to kill Columbus when he proved the earth was round. You have a flat earth mind that goes with your flat head.


I am a creative writing major and honestly, I have to say that, in my nearly professional opinion, you have the creativity of my Adidas duffel bag.

Nearly professional? What the f**k? That means you are not a professional at all. What are you nearly professional at. Toilet bowl cleaner, douche bag collector.
I am sure people are impressed by your major after they stop laughing at you when you tell them you are a creative writing major. Btw, what correspondence school are you attending? It must be very expensive since the only thing you can afford is the Adidas bag that you wear for pants.


Furthermore, why the hell would you cut out dairy products? It is a proven fact that drinking milk reduces weight around the middle. Trust me: I'm 110 pounds and 5'8. I drink milk like its going out of style.

You are completely right. You are out of style. You may weigh 110 lbs but its probably all on your ass from all dairy. Look at JLO. She eats a wheel of cheedar every morning.

You've also probably tried and failed at Atkins, South Beach, and whatever the hell else. NEWSFLASH: FAD DIETS DO NOT WORK. EATING CORRECTLY AND EXERCISING DOES. Also, if you are really such a "Prada Princess", why are you on Jenny Craig? Shouldn't mum and dad be hiring you private trainers and nutritionists? Or, even more likely, why haven't you joined the "Finger Down Your Throat" club?

Actually I am former member of that club. Its nothing to joke about. I know people who are still struggling with it. Atkins worked for me but I really missed my beard papa and I had to quit. I took Jenny Craig when I was in college. I lost weight but I was in hell. I hate nutritionists because they always tell you waht to do and my last trainer was more interested in taking off my pants rather than my pounds. Which was too bad because she was a really good trainer.

I highly doubt that you are yet pursuing higher education, but I have a feeling that once you do (at whatever podunk excuse for a school accepts you with your fourth-grade writing skills),

Don't need to pursue higher ed and don't want too. I don't want to be those geniuses who spend half their lives studying a dead language no one has heard of and rack up a ton of student loan debt and are forced into working for starbucks because they can't get health insurance.


you will be the girl who is rejected from every sorority and subsequently spends all of your time on The Facebook, listing as friends all of the people in high school who hated you in a last-ditch effort to feel popular.

Sweetie, let's get something clear. I reject sororities they don't reject me. I am person wish they were friends and I am the name that everyone drops because I am the s**t.



You're not impressing anyone. Try being real.

Beeyotch please. I don't need to impress anyone. You can't try to be real you just are. But I guess as a creative writing major you can't tell the differnece.

You bore me. Go quit starbucks and join Ole at Dunkin Doughnuts.

Off to open houses. Let's hope I get lucky.

Le Suck

This place blows. The prix fixed meal was a complete rip off. You could get most of this stuff at any falafel joint for a quarter of the price. It was an atkins nightmare since the menu consisted mostly of pita bread. T was freaking out about since she was on atkins. It was her fault since she picked it.

At one point the belly dancer came up and began banging her finger cymbals. At first the dancing was school than it got really cheesy when she began dancing with this little girl having dinner with her family and then with the =dad and everyone was clapping. It felt like we were at chuck e cheese. At one point the belly dancer was trying to get arouse this man and his entire table was laughing at him. We later found out he was gay. K got pissed when her dress got all wet but none of us coudl figure out where the water came from. She was looking around for leaks in the ceiling the whole time.

Service sucked ass. B and T took ten minutes to find us because the hostess said we were in the back but its a freaking maze. What really pissed me off was that they had this washroom attendant who would turn on the facuet and squirt soap on your hands. I mean what is this the China Club? Washroom help is always inside the bathroom. The east village is sooo overrated.

Frugality is for suckers

The Millionarie Next door says that most rich people buy JC penny suits. I almost dropped a load in my pants when I read that. I am not sure where these geniuses are from but you would get beaten to death if you walked around in a Jc Penny suit in Manhattan.

When my parents got married, Mom went through his entire wardrobe and tossed out anything wasn't a brand name which was probably everything. Then stuffed with every label known to man. My Mom knew if my Father had any chance of making it as partner having a law degree from Harvard was not enough. He had to look to the part. If my Father walked into court wearing a JC penny suit, the judge would have thrown him out and Mom would have divorced him.

This book makes being rich rocket science. It keeps talking about being frugal and living below your means. Being frugal in Manhattan means being a mooch. B had this friend, I think her name was Heidi or Helga. Anyway she was this tall Swiss b, Brigitte Nielsen type without the wrinkles and jungle fever. She was definitely rich because she was dressed head to toe in Gucci. Everytime we would go clubbing, we would have a table and get bottles. When the bill came, swiss miss would say that she forgot her purse or her daddy the swiss banker had not dropped her a check. or some dumb ass excuse. The first time we would cover and let it go. But when swiss bitch order three bottles of cristal and asked for us to cover it VD called her out by telling she should ask her Dad the swiss banker to get the money he ripped off from people during the war. Than we ditched her ass.

As far as I am concerned living below your means is living off of others.

I'll try reading it again but that book so unrealistic. I did some fashion week parties with the claque and we ended up at the Maritime Hotel where Perry Farrell brought back Jane's Addiction. Been Caught Stealing is my sister's favorite song which sang. She wasn't really big on Porno for Pyros.

Rental gifts

Been in bed all day with a cold. I think I caught it from the carrot juice I bought at the fruit stand. I started this new detox kick and stopped eating diary products and white sugar. It lasted a couple of days before I joined the claque for a bagels brunch at H&H.

The rental units ordered three books from Amazon that arrived today. One is called the Millionarie Next Door by Thomas J. Stanley, William D. Danko, the second is The 9 Steps to Financial Freedom and the third is called Feminine Force by Georgette Mosbacher.

I called Mom to thank her. She told me that Millionaire Next Door was Dad's recommendation. Mom started watching Suze Orman on CNBC and felt 9 Steps to Financial Freedom would be a good start. Mom is a diehard Democrat and was entertaining the idea of moving to Canada when Bush won but although Georgette is a hardcore Republican she liked the fact Georgette was a self made woman. She said hoped I would read these books and learn from them. I promised her I would. She was glad I was taking this seriously. She told me if I had any questions to let her know. We made plans for lunch next week.

Weight gain

This morning I jumped off the scale when I saw that I gained ten pounds. This is all my fault for eating all that Hagen Daz. Ohmigod. I can't go back on Jenny Craig. I almost died the last time from the lack of food. Mom is going S**t a brick when she sees me.