“All Relationships Are Hard Work.” You know what’s hard work? Giving yourself a Brazilian bikini wax… trust me I have tried it. Hot wax in your sphincter is next level traumatizing and incredibly laborious, healthy relationships shouldn’t be. Sure people fight and not everyday will be easy breezy but if you have to work THAT hard you may want to re-evaluate your partner choice. Companionship is a luxury and while all things sacred are worth working for, if you are working TOO hard perhaps you are trying to manifest something that just isn’t there.
“Love Means Never Having to Say You’re Sorry.” Whoever wrote that is a serious dumb fuck. If you act like an asshole you should always take accountability and apologize, ESPECIALLY to the people you love. This concept is archaic and moronic. I understand the subtext meaning that your significant other knows you well enough that you can offer a nonverbal apology but seriously? Telekinesis is for pussies, own your actions and say your sorry.
“Opposites Attract!” I think the term “opposites” is a bit dramatic in this particular myth. Sure contrasting personalities can make for an excellent pairing. I could never date someone who was just like me or I would literally murder them BUT having similar interests and perspectives on life is so important. If I lived by the principle of attracting an opposite, I would be dating a Vegan Scientologist with good credit and categorized recycling bins. God knows that would NEVER work.
“Absence Makes The Heart Grow Fonder.” Bullshit. If you have to be away from someone to appreciate them you’re kind of fucked. I will admit the first stage of my boyfriend being away is missing him, the second stage is me being irritated I have to pay for all my own dinners (prices of quality sushi has really gone up since I have been single) and my third stage is basic resentment. This is a line many have used to get a breather from their partner (#guilty) and TOO much distance is never a good thing.
Anyone who knows me knows the following to be true a) I am perpetually 20 minutes early b) I try not to socialize with people who drive Smart Cars c) I never leave the house without at least 7 pieces of jewelry on. This bitch loves her bling, the more sparkle the better. Long before statement necklaces became popular and J Crew blessed the nation with their bitch approved baubles, a hoe had to get crafty with her bling. My obsession with vintage jewelry started when I was in high school. About a mile from campus was an antique mart mecca that boasted some of the sparkliest shit I have ever seen. Even better, because it wasn’t “trendy” I could walk away with a jewel encrusted bracelet for $15 and tell everyone at school it was a family heirloom.
This became my dirty little accessory secret. People must have thought I had some really janky dead relatives… these family heirlooms barely ever cashed out over $50. I am not some chic hipster who visits thrift shops often. I usually detest the smell and would rather shank a puppy than be pretentiously collecting vintage novels I have zero intention of reading. My motive is plain and simple; I love sparkly shit that no one else will have. Duh.
Yesterday, I got a wild hair up my ass and decided to hit the antique mart HARD. The second I walked in and caught a whiff of Elizabeth Taylor perfume, cigarettes and old people I felt right at home. Mercury must have been in retrograde because I found the best shit ever. I walked away with a to die for gold lion clutch, an ostrich feather bolero and 3 crystal bracelets. Above are some of my purchases and other vintage treasures I found. Satisfy your sparkle boner at the Agoura Antique Mart (if your in LA) or get your ass to your local thrift shop and explore! XO
AFTER A FULL WEEK OF ANXIETY RIDDEN ANTICIPATION WE GET TO HEAR THE TAGLINES AND….I haven’t been more underwhelmed since the last Barney’s Warehouse Sale. What the fuck? Like for Melissa I was thinking something like “I’ve denied having a nose job, and I will also deny Tarzan as long as I am shacking up in this rental home.” This was a huge disappointment.
So it’s Christmas time in the old swamp land. Faux J-Lo aka Melissa is not ecstatic about her boujie decorations in her seemingly nice rental home. Antonia isn’t pleased either … things could be worse babycakes… you could be Gia right now. Nicole and Ter-es-uh hang out at their parents house #chic and more offensively wear fucking santa hats and drink out of puffy painted wine glasses. This scenario might actually be my version of hell. Oh wait I spoke to soon, no – my version of hell would be spending 20 minutes at Amber Alert’s house. After only being acquainted with Amber for one week, I can guarantee this much is true. A) Her children are going to need intensive psychiatric assistance B) She definitely has invested in the entire Brighton sterling silver jewelry collection C) I would rather eat my childhood dog for a snack then ever be in a burning building with her. She WOULD have a fucking whistle… she’s like the adolescence nazi.
How does Dina stay zen with all those fucking chatchkies everywhere and Lexi has really come out of her awkward stage with flying colors and a very intriguing highlight situation. Now we head over to the good ol Giudice palace for some good ol kosher fun. Did anyone else see the irony in Tre wearing a shirt that read “OOPS”? Yeah girl…fraud is such whoopsie! I don’t give a shit what anyone says, I love Teresa Giudice and I just don’t care who knows it… you heard me. Haters are gonna hate, but I just LOVE LOVE LOVE.
Nicole and Dina have brunch fit for a cougar in a fedora and then we move on to Hitler with a weave (aka Amber’s) home where she is running fire drills and I need to refill my dirty martini just THINKING about how badly I want to punch her in the ovary (which she would probably appreciate given her blatant disdain for children). I am so loving Melissa and Teresa getting along. Plus I call dibs on Melissa’s youngest son in 18 years because he is a totally hott tot. Too much? Whatever.
Some boring shit happens then we join the Gorgas, Giudices and Wakiles for a cousin Christmas dinner, where they exchange weird ass gifts and pretend Juicy isn’t months away from getting his ass ripped apart in prison. Sounds pretty normal to me. Side note: Why can’t Rosie be a housewife? Until next week bitches…
Hello, bitches. If I see one more Sunday Funday instagram picture I am going to lose it. Boohoo the weekend is over. Mondays are fucking amazing for two reasons in particular A. It is the day I always allege I am going to start my “2014 health plan” (I should mention this *health plan doesn’t include any form of exercise regimen and only means attempting to not have carbs for every meal of the day #fitness – also, this health plan was supposed to start in 2010 and has yet to be completed) and b. TELEVISION OF THE GODS: THE BACHELORETTE, RHOC, LADIES OF LONDON. It is all too much.
I literally told my mom last week “If Ladies of London doesn’t get a Season 2 I am going to kill myself in front of the whole family.” Andy Cohen, please take that threat seriously… I have so much more life to live and don’t envision myself kicking the bucket before 30 wrapped in a British flag, singing the Ladies of London theme song with a Caroline Stanbury inspired platinum bob – but I will fucking do it. For those of you who have no clue what I am talking about I suggest you do yourself a favor and hit up your DVR stat. After being lured out of my cage and forced to be weekendy social I always start off my week seriously irritated…
Juicy Fruit – What a sad excuse for a gum. Firstly, it loses flavor quicker then the person chewing it loses their dignity and second it tastes like ass, plaster and stale fruit juice. And yes, I realize juice doesn’t go STALE so fuck off vocab police. I also find this is the gum selection of under-achievers and that is a truth you need to deal with. This gum is targeted for the person who doesn’t aspire to minty fresh breath and also doesn’t mind being taken advantage of due to its disappointing taste longevity. Think about it.
Crudités – For those of you living under a rock or engaging in sexual relations with a first cousin – Crudités is an incredibly pretentious word for a veggie platter. I would like to make it clear that anything sold in a plastic tray at fucking 7-11 does not merit a silent “s” or this fancy of a name. I was at a very distant friend of a friend’s house last week when the host kindly offered up some “Crudités” and a huge part of my already nonexistent soul started to die. REALLY?!? Stop. Please.
Pet Birds – I consider myself an animal lover if you excuse birds, reptiles, sharks and most sea mammals out of the equation. Listen, I have been very vocal about my distaste for cats. Many of my best friends love them and Taylor Swift is probably fucking one as we speak. One thing I do appreciate about those assholes is that they eat birds and for that I will be forever grateful. I can say with full confidence if I met Ryan Gosling and he took me home to his gorgeous piece of real estate and I spotted a pet bird I would run for the fucking hills. It takes a real weirdo to select a BIRD as your pet of choice. It’s equivalent to having a pet rat and I just can’t associate with people who think it’s okay. Unless you can advance my career in any way … which in the case I totally love pet birds.
@MileyCyrus – Listen I am guilty for being totally into this twerking train wreck that is Miley Cyrus. Her vakakta front teeth, creepy as shit dad, and her little dykey haircut. I get it – she’s a “genius” (why does everyone say that?) I realize she is laughing and probably air humping all the way to the bank. COOL. Last night I unfollowed Miley on Instagram and truly have never felt more liberated in my life. If I had to see one more picture of her ravey and weird as fuck arts and crafts projects I was literally going to lose my mind.
I don’t know if many of you followed Paris Hilton’s music career circa 2006 but I sure as fuck did. I was especially taken by her classic hit “Jealousy” which boasted the thought provoking lyrics “Jealousy, jealousy, jealousy… it’s such an evil thang”. Rumor had it the song was about Nicole Richie. Despite her skunky highlights and dabbling in heroine, I always knew Nicole would end up on top. You go girl. Paris, passive aggression is never a cute look … neither are your Ukranian extensions, vakakta fold over mini skirts and disgraceful display of embroidered halter tops. Get your shit together already.
Yesterday, I had a really fan-fucking-tastic day. Professionally things have really come full circle and shit I only imagined in my delusional head are actually coming to fruition. Don’t get an ovary boner… I haven’t started adapting the principles of “The Secret” I still think that shit is DUMB AS FUCK. I solely attribute recent happenings to hard work, restraining order worthy persistence and a huge dose of luck. Like any bitch, when great things happen to me instead of having internal pride and feeling full with a sense of accomplishment, I turn to Instagram. Because let’s be honest what’s the point of doing anything great in life if you can’t share it with 650 people you haven’t seen since high school?
Naturally when you put yourself out there (like I always obnoxiously have) you become susceptible to not so fabulous feedback. As a repercussion to my actions, I received the following email “Stop bragging. Everyone knows you either have your daddy help you or had to bang a producer to get anywhere in life.” This shit really ticked a bitch off. Firstly, my father is in real estate and proven to be only a liability to my career as he insists on having his lawyer look over anything I’ve ever had to sign (even if it was a fucking field trip form) and likes to make awkward office visits while he snaps pics on his phone of me candidly “working” so he can show friends and family. Like look! My daughter dropped out of college against my will, has been delinquent with her electricity bill so she can buy Loboutins but at least she is working! I have pics to prove it! What a jew. Secondly, I have banged a producer and it gotten me fucking nowhere. So fuck off.
I called my gay Sherpa and read him the email. “She is obviously just jealous.” I hate when people just assume people are “just jealous”. Maybe you are an uptight bitch, self-righteous mother-fucker or are a huge asshole? We should make a vow as females not to automatically think people who are rude to us are simply jealous. Perhaps a bit more internal soul-searching is due before we concede the culprit be jealousy because you might just really suck. I get that may be a tough pill to swallow but the good news is it goes down easier with a stiff dirty martini. I may be a lot of things; socially insensitive, perpetually constipated and painfully delusional (I blame my mother for telling me I looked like a young Kelly Russell when I was in middle school. In reality I looked like ET with lethal jew frizz, braces and cloak of false self-confidence) but I have just never been a jealous person. I am sick in the way that I take on anyone I loves personal victories as my own and genuinely make myself believe I am a key factor in their success.
Bitches who are intimidated by you, will speak poorly of you in hopes of tarnishing your sparkle to others. Whether it be jealousy (ew), insecurity, genuine dislike or just way too much time on their hands, bitches best be making their hatas their motivatas.And aren’t we all just too busy to give a shit anyways? Bitch Bible Prophecy: Playas they gonna play. Hater’s they gonna hate. Ballers they gonna ball. Shotcallers they gonna call. That ain’t got nuthin to do, with me and you. That’s the way it is #3LW and also Nicole > Paris … always.
So last night I put on my leopard pajamas, chugged a chilled bottle of Fabellini and indulged in a chracuterie plate only worthy of Joe Giudice pre-clinker. When people ask me which Real Housewives series is my favorite I often respond with the socially sensitive answer of “That is like my internal ‘Sophie’s Choice’. I love them all the same.” This is a lie, I love MOST of them the same but I lose my parma di prosciutto for those New Jersey bitches. The show starts out recapping the Giudice’s small “legal troubles” #NBD. Firstly, Teresa does potential jail time so well. Teresa has and always will be my favorite. That bitch busts out her sequins, teases that hair and slaps a smile like no ones business. She is committed to her delusion and rather than pulling a “Victim Victoria” she seems to be trucking along fine (although Milania needs a visit from the adderall fairy ASAP). Was anybody else COLLOSALLY upset that we didn’t get to hear the new taglines? Almost flipped a table over that one.
More importantly DINA IS BACK AND I COULD NOT BE HAPPIER. “The bitch is back and if you don’t like it you can kiss my ass” ugh, the things I would do to go back in time and make that my senior quote for the yearbook. Dina is looking hot and I just like her. I could do without her vakakta Dr.Doolittle routine with all those busted animals but hey… I’ll give her a break. It’s sweet that Teresa is worried about saving for her kids college tuition… Dollface Milania surely will not be attending Yale. I smell a tender community college for that little whipper snapper.
I am actually really happy Meliss and Tre are all buddy buddy. Personally I am really hoping they stick it out and that Dina, Teresa and Melissa become their own little a-team clique and keep these new boujie bitches in check. I am still so perplexed why Melissa is still denying a nose job. That is just offending my intelligence and well researched knowledge of a good nose job. I am a jewish girl from the San Fernando valley…. I could practically perform the surgery myself.
Next we get to meet fucking Amber. I will probably refer to her as “Fucking Amber” for the remainder of the season because only 2.5 seconds into her debut I decided I totally hate her. If Maya Rudolph, Shrek’s better looking sister and a really neurotic, overly bronzed and passive aggressive psychopath had a baby… you would get Fucking Amber. Dina’s therapy office exterior looks like a bad Mongolian bbq spot. I must say her accessory game is on point this season and the hair is flawless. Now we meet Ter-ES-uh and Nicole. These bitches and their polyblend ensembles give me legitimate anxiety.
WHAT THE FUCK IS A FALL HARVEST PARTY? Looks like a really fun rager… Fucking Amber. Great now I feel bad because we find out she has cancer and I feel like a huge asshole. I vouch to make a donation to redeem myself at the supermarket checkout later today. “Oh that little fucking kid took my shawl.” Okay – now I like Ter-ES-uh… or is it Nicole? #dgaf
Now it’s Giudice family photo time and maybe it was the fabellini but I totally cried my meatballs off . Until next week… where I better get some fucking taglines. Also is it weird I still love Joe G? Oy vey.
So earlier this week I did a mini makeover on my bedroom and as a byproduct my whole world feels refreshed. I have always adapted a Donald Sterling approach to home decor keeping an all white color scheme. I find it makes everything crisp, fresh and very un-child friendly which during this point of my life seems necessary. I also think that keeping to the all white vibe makes it very easy to give the space new life.
With only $350 dollars, serious online perusing and a few lucky clearance finds I was able to give my bedroom a fresh new look. Here are some of my favorite finds!
I had amazing luck at HomeGoods, Z Gallerie and online at Lulu & Georgia (which you can shop HERE)! Similar to dressing, I find that the style and personality is really all about the accessories. Whether it be a statement necklace or a seriously fabulous pillow – a little bling goes along way!