Dear DJ James Kennedy (Part Duex)

Dear DJ James Kennedy,

Hey girl… it’s me, Jackie. Again. Hope you’re doing well. Just kidding, you are literally the worst. Before I begin my second attempt at contact, I would like to clarify that your hAtErZ are not your MoTivaTeRz because you are a fucking busboy at Sur. Also if you are reading this and telling yourself that shit like this makes you relevant, please know it doesn’t… I am simply low on material and love an easy target that is not intelligent enough to defend themselves and proudly displays their douche-ness to an extent that I am able to comment on it without repercussions.

As a journalist I find it my civil duty to make contact with you. Like Carrie Mathison risked her and Brody’s livelihood by hunting Abu Nazir and Diane Sawyer ventured to the Middle East for a nationally publicized sit down with Sadam Hussein, I too am reaching out to sit down face to face and go over some of your questionable behavior. My problem is not the fact that you dress like Kate Moss, think you are headlining Coachella (#saharatent) because you can make playlists on Spotify OR the derogatory way you speak to and about women. It’s your inability to acknowledge what an asshole you are. Perspective is everything… did I just give you your album name?

From one slender physiqued young lady to another, help me, help you, help myself, help the world, you’re the help. You is not kind, you is not smart, you is not important. I wish Octavia Spencer delivered a shit pie to your shared apartment. When you told Lisa that you are responsible for her burgeoning business at Pump, I almost vomited. Just because you have a free 30-day trial of Garage Band, a disappointing H&M blazer and a Yelp profile does not mean you are Calvin Harris. “You can read the yelp reviews, they are waiting for a cd.” I literally want to get this tattooed on my forehead. And then stab myself in the forehead.

I understand that you were probably very perplexed upon learning that you inadvertently ate another mans ass… the true shame is that he was a football player and not LA Reid or someone that could get you an internship at a record label. Music executives need their dishes cleaned too, share your gifts James.

Sometimes I think I am being too hard on you James. But then you start speaking and I feel complete permission and validation in my words. Please know you have an invitation to discuss our issues face to face perhaps over some mini bottles of Seagrams. Dance like no ones watching, rap like no ones listening and eat ass like you have never been hurt.

Love always,

Jackie

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VIVA LA VANDERPUMP

There are three things in this big beautiful world I love unconditionally; triple crème brie cheese, my dog (son) Leo and Vanderpump Rules. If you are reading this and don’t know what my third treasure of the heart is, just fucking leave this blog and never come back. I am sure all you “intellects” (my target audience) are rolling your eyes GUFFAWING at me, a seemingly uneducated blonde proclaiming my unwithering and at times challenging love for reality television. Sure the housewives are like family at this point, Patti Stanger similar to a loud cousin I try to sit away from at Yom Kippur, but these kids at Sur have captivated me in a way I am afraid I can’t put into words.

If you ever want to see me come ALIVE in a social setting just ask me about “Style by Stassi” aka the home of sub par statement necklaces and unfortunate layering #goatcheeseballs. Between bringing her own wine to dry restaurants, visits to her mom’s tri-level cabin in Big Bear with uneven drywall or just cruising down Melrose in her Toyota convertible, Princess Stassi never lets me down. True story: my housekeeper Jazmine was over yesterday, she only comes like once every 4 years but I am kind of obsessed with her in an unnatural way. I give her all my old clothes and she feels obligated to wear them when she comes over and it’s both highly unpractical and adorable… Something about sequins and Clorox warms my heart. As I was 3 hours deep into a Vanderpump Rules marathon, Jazmine politely asked “What crazy show are you watching chica?” Has she been living under a tortilla for the past 3 years. “Jazmine… you have never seen Vanderpump Rules? It’s always on Bravo!” Long pause. “What’s Bravo?” I fired her immediately. Not actually but our relationship will never be the same again.

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I watch every episode about 34 times. I may not know what the Civil war was about (although I am glad to hear it was civil #recycledjoke), thought Benghazi was a new kabob place in Glendale and am only 64% certain on my lefts and rights … I can tell you anything and everything about those puffy-painted wine glass swigging millennial DISASTERS working at fucking Sur. I figured what better way to bond us bitches than with a really lame yet gratifying quiz to see how well YOU know the rules a la Vanderpump.

CLICK THIS QUIZ THAT TOOK ME 3 HOURS TO MAKE (AND CAN’T FIGURE OUT HOW TO DIRECTLY LINK/ AM TOO EMBARRASSED TO ASK ANYONE FOR HELP) IF THE QUIZ DOESN’T WORK HERE CLICK THIS #desperate : http://imahautemess.polldaddy.com/s/vanderpumprules AND SHARE WITH YOUR FELLOW VANDERBITCHES.

And always remember… people may try and bring you down for being obsessed with Vanderpump Rules, but you are good as gold.