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Here Comes the Bitch…

 

Hi everyone. Sorry it has been a while since my last post. I have been volunteering my services to the Hilary Clinton presidential campaign and learning Mandarin. But actually, I have been doing nothing and couldn’t be happier. Recently, after only four death threats and one failed attempt to join Raya, my boyfriend proposed. I’m getting fucking married and it has catapulted me into a Bridezilla/Basic Bitch/ Existential life crisis.

While this is arguably the most exciting thing that has ever happened to me except for the time I bought something at Bloomingdales and talked my way into exchanging it at Neiman Marcus (and people think I have no talent). Since I have started planning I realized I am haunted by basic brides that have resurrected before me. Is it possible to plan a wedding and NOT be a self involved, fluffy haired, asshole? I fucking hope so. People get married and think they become the epicenter of the universe. The harsh truth is, no one gives a real fuck about your impending nuptials except you and like 8 other people. So while you hold people hostage like the fucking Taliban and ask whether they prefer ivory or eggshell, remember to stay self-aware, step away from pinterest and embrace these truths.

Just because you have solidified a life partner, does not mean you are the new authority on eternal happiness. Getting a Zale’s cushion cut diamond wrangled on your phalange doesn’t give you the right to judge your free spirited slutty friends. We get it. You have found the love of your life. Maybe your friend’s love of their life is a bag of Chex Mix and her Valtrex prescription.

Not to be a Debbie Downer but statistically almost 60% are destined for a second marriage or maybe a Goldie Hawn/Kurt Russell situation. So while your ironing your white button down polo shirts for your extremely basic engagement shoot, remember that before you express pity for your single friends that you have to clean underwear that is not yours for the rest of your life. Live and let live.

Getting hitched does not mean you have to start dressing like a midwestern substitute teacher who collects potpourri and ceramic figurines. I know people that could have been the spokesperson for Vegas attire. Bandage dresses (kill me), platform pumps and a clip in synthetic weave that could start a wildfire. Magically upon matrimony, they start dressing so “Churchy” and complaining about a heel height of a fucking tic-tac. Really bitch? You lived in hooker heels (#madeinchina) for a decade – don’t try.

If anything, you need to get sluttier after “settling down”. Just because you are on a diet doesn’t mean you can’t check out the fucking menu. Newsflash… guys have penises. Penises are fueled by testosterone. Testosterone makes men into primal animals. Animals that subconsciously WANT and NEED men other than themselves to want to bang their future wife because then they feel like they have a prized possession. I am not saying women are possessions just calm the fuck down, it’s a METAPHOR. The sooner bitches understand this biology, the sooner we will truly run the world.

Despite my grievances, I am SUPER excited to navigate the bitchy bridal rapids with a bedazzled life jacket, Dramamine (or Xanax) and an unsigned prenupt as my sail.

Bitch Throws a Dinner Party

I watch enough Real Housewives to know how to throw a proper dinner party. As much as I’d love to hire Kevin Lee to make everything “shi shi shi” I will have to be  my own transgender Asian homosexual party planner. Naturally my theme developed from an accessory, some cute Moroccan napkins I found and some fabulous new gold charger plates (you know you’re an adult when you have charger plates). Another adult move, I even made a fucking mocktail. It’s like I don’t know who I am anymore – I mean we all know I’m not a huge fan of sobriety but I digress. I wanted my first dinner party to reflect not only my effortless domesticity but also what kind of woman I am. Deceivingly fancy, warm and … easy. I decided to delight my patrons with a Mediterranean menu because I am a selfish whore (JK – on the whore bit) and I could make everything ahead of time so I was still able to mingle and socialize.

Menu

CUCUMBER MINT FAUXJITO (which I subsequently added vodka too – a mocktail only gets you so far)
MY WORLD FAMOUS LAMB MEATBALLS W/TZATZIKI SAUCE
GREEK FETA, OLIVES, HUMMUS AND PITA BREAD

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SHIRAZI SALAD
BASMATI RICE WITH HERBS
ROASTED EGGPLANT WITH MINT AND FETA
“SAFFRON” CHICKEN WITH OLIVES/THYME

And nothing for dessert… I don’t fucking bake. Ice cream anyone?

Dinner was a hit (I think) and I feel like I have reached a new level of womanhood… kinda. #hostesswiththemostest Presentation1

Redecorating

When I first started living with my boyfriend I was in a bit of a decorator slump. I had never had full control of decorating in any of the other places I lived in prior. Then, I was walking into a totally blank canvas with options galore. I immediately had 93% of my boyfriends things removed so I could visualize. Surprisingly, my boyfriend was very hands on during the process ( I called him Nate Berkus during the entirety of our revamp) but was an overall gem letting me pick whatever I liked with the exception of about 75 crystal chandeliers. Here are a few pics of our work in progress.

hoomiehommmehome6home5

Make shift bar area

Make shift bar area

That vintage Louis Vuitton trunk in the back round was a compromise piece.

Need to fill wall with pics, get new frames.

Need to fill wall with pics, get new frames.

home

Still so much to do, we are making dining room into an office/music space for Andrew (I am such a giver) Will post pics once we are done!!

Send pics of your Haute Mess Home to beahautemess@gmail.com