From Yale to Jail

Hello Again

2005-08-05T22:32:00.000-07:00

I am still here. I just don't want to be known any more I guess. I feel so bored and boring. 1 in 20 people in the US now keeps a blog. Do they rant. The rant is over for me right now. I am tired of contemplating my evil navel.

2005-07-17T23:20:00.000-07:00

We came home from the hotel at 2am. I was homesick and anxious and depressed. I couldn't relax. By the pool I did but I mean in the room in the night while my husband was sleeping. I am just unhappy. I don't know why I take myself so seriously. No one else does. I am a silly vapid creature. Vain. Self important. When out of my element for two days my brain goes to such dark places. It's better to be home. Wouldn't it be funny if that were true.

They're coming to take me away...

2005-07-16T11:33:00.000-07:00

AND for once it's not a psych ward. We are checking into the Plaza this afternoon and I will be gone until Monday evening. See ya soon!

The Long Kiss Goodnight

2005-07-10T18:45:00.000-07:00

Oh wow I have been awake for almost 31 hours. I am going cold turkey. Not off heroin. Not off coke. Not off alcohol. Antipsychotics. Antimanics. Antidepressants. I am incapable of doing things slowly right now. Instant karma's gonna get ya. And miles to go before I sleep. I have enough tranks to take down Capitol Hill but I am okay for now. I am not strung out. I have been posting. Posting away on one of my boards. Hell, I should have been blogging for you, all my dear dear friends. Coughing fit. Okay. Well. I just hope this doesn't wrinkle me. You know speed up my aging. These growing pains. Liz Taylor said that's how she kept her looks so long. It was all the sedation.Thats what I have had. Not sanity. Sedation. Not peace. Pills. Freedom is not being beholden to the bottle. okay okay I still take stuff for my stomach. I can live through psychosis but not acid reflux.

I know what I know if you know what I mean?

2005-07-06T21:25:00.000-07:00

Do ya? My mother told me my fans missed me. I mean my one fan. Hello Rita. It is easier to post entries when I was writing to myself. I started a new blog "Old Bloated and Envious" but I never posted to it either. I wanted my anonymity. But I want people to know me. I want to write. Write what you know they say. What do I know? Nothing. I thought I knew eyeshadow. But then I came in contact with women who owned twice what I did. Oh well. I used to know Northpark Mall. I used to stalk my wishlist there. It is many miles away and I do not have the energy. I know my dreams. Not my dreams of the future but the ones that haunt me. I am always stuck in Dallas with no ID so I can't get a plane. There are warrants for my arrest and there is no escape. I have to go to Uncle Lou, what we convicts called Lou Sterrett Jail. Oh, I know pills. Psychotropics. Obsession. Ugly Men. One Night Stands. Oh do I know those. These dumb blog bitches who think they are sluts. please. You don't know slut like I know slut. Have you ever spent the whole night with a guy-fucked him him on his coffee table and let him take polaroids-and not figured out until the next day that he had a flipper for a hand? Or lived with a guy for a week and found his teeth in a cup? What a drunken whore. ok, I admit it-it was kind of fun.

Ho Ho, Hi Ho, off to recovery I go...

2005-06-22T15:09:00.000-07:00

At the behest of my psychiatrist I went back to AA today. I have not been to a meeting in months. I bought myself some oversized Prada sunglasses and a few scarves on the way. Putting Humpty Dumpty together again could get expensive.

How Many Handbags Did Diana Prince Go Through?

2005-06-17T22:43:00.000-07:00

Ah, to be so flat chested!

My guess is that she never carried Italian leathergoods, or she would not have been tossing them behind dumpsters like she did. My Miu Miu's and Prada's are UNFLINGABLE. Did she have multiple copies of her driver's license? She must have had to replace her credit cards as often as I do. She had to do it in the name of crime fighting. I lose mine every two weeks or so on drunken binges. Those people in India who are doing all the customer service now expect my call..I was in the hospital recently and thought they "Jimmy" Kumar or one of my other regular agents might be worried.

I feel as Patriotic as Air Force Amy!

2005-06-15T18:16:00.000-07:00

You should too! Show everyone how much of a stiffy you have for your country and buy one of these: http://www.misspoppy.com/catalog/xcart/customer/product.php?productid=16346&cat=300&page=1 . Heck, buy a few.

Toss Me Into Shallow Water

2005-06-14T20:19:00.000-07:00

My dear friends, I have been in the HOME. I am well rested and focused. More later.

Please don't tell me I'm the only one...

2005-06-02T23:57:00.000-07:00

A bulletproof and unbreakable heart. Its what I always wanted as I sobbed my way through my teens and twenties. I loved so hard it hurt. So many men. They never saw how much I hurt. I thought if they saw, they would change. But people change because of their own pain not yours. I am thinking about this because I am considering starting a new type of therapy. With a shrink. To get me off these pills. Not "bad" pills, unless you are Tom Cruise. These are pills that were supposed to save me. From myself. From Mr. Goodbar. Maybe they did. But they have taken so much too. I want to hurt again. I want joy, I want despair. I want to want sex with my husband. I want to want sex with anyone. I do but only when I dream. I chase men. I chase Ali Macgraw's ex husband. We had a film noir romance last week. It was in black and white. I normally dream in color. The doc says it will take a year to get me off my antidepressant, antimanic, antipsychotic and antianxiety medication regimen. Untiil then I am not eligible to participate in his group therapy. I laughed. I guess I would be too toxic to his other patients, being on drugs!!! He is expensive but might give me my life back. Or I mean, I want to take it back. "Be proactive. Wa wa wa" Not asleep. Booze made me spend my days in a fog. Now pills make me sleep all day. Is this oblivion just a substitute, do I only get substitutes for my addictions, my fixes. These pills dont make me happy, no joy. Just manageability. For me, for my husband. He gets to go to work a bit calmer knowing I probably won't get into too much trouble. Maybe he is happier. All I wanna do is have some fun...

I Have Found My Second Husband

2005-05-31T23:10:00.000-07:00

He is a little on the short side...

View from the Cage

This is one of my fav blogs. I should tell you a hamster writes it. He is adorable.

Just Ways To Be Wicked...

2005-05-28T22:41:00.000-07:00

Things I Want to Do Before Age 50:

Be Nominated for an acting Oscar (Golden Globes don't Count)
Be on Maxim's Top 100 (after a breast reduction)
Write a bestseller
Slap down Kimora Lee Simmons
Have someone need me more than I need her

Don't look now...

2005-05-16T19:40:00.000-07:00

Does he have purple lips?

Here he is Camille baby...Charlie O'Connell, your Bachelor. Does he give you night sweats? It's just the menopause.

Et Tu, Camille?

2005-05-16T19:03:00.000-07:00

I saw somewhere that culture critique/feminist Camille Paglia was a huge fan of The Bachelor. At its best, it is women in a cluster fuck fight over a dashing eligible male! A weekend storm took my satellite out, so I am watching it for the first time. Lucky me, it is the finale which has to have already been on for two hours. My husband isn't here and he keeps the Ativan locked up so I won't take the whole bottle. All I need is one little pill!!! This show is banal, creepy and makes a desperate mockery of courtship. Even so, if the actual bachelor were a catch, maybe it would be romantic, in a crass, whorish way. He is just so ugly. He looks like he smells like stale cheap beer. He is the kind of guy who buys draft beer at the bar because he says he likes the taste, but everyone knows why you buy Natural Light on tap. El Cheapo no es guapo. I wouldn't let him buy me a drink, and I used to drink with amputees and midgets. Let me find a picture of him for those of you who have been spared. I got ya!

David Sedaris sucks...

2005-05-16T16:13:00.000-07:00

I have read these books since April 6.

Autobiography of a Fat Bride, Notaro, Laurie
Blow Fly, Cornwell, Patricia
Cheaters, Dickey, Eric Jerome
Children Playing Before A Statue Of Hercules, Sedaris, David
Dark Horse, Hoag, Tami
Depraved, Glatt, John
Elizabeth and Leicester, Jenkins, Elizabeth
Fashionistas, Messina, Lynn
Heart Full Of Lies, Rule, Ann
Holidays on Ice, Sedaris, David
Me Talk Pretty One Day, Sedaris, David
Milk in My Coffee, Dickey, Eric Jerome
Mim Warner's Lost Her Cool, Messina, Lynn
Royal Babylon, Shaw, Karl
Running With Scissors, Burroughs, Augusten
She's Come Undone, Lamb, Wally
The Clothes They Stood Up in and the Lady in the Van, Bennett, Alan
The Royal House of Monaco, Glatt, John

And without the munchkins...

2005-05-12T19:59:00.000-07:00

My sister found it amusing that a poster doubted that I had been a huge drunkard and doper. Honey, I was like Judy Garland without the talent.

A Fine Romance

2005-05-12T07:23:00.000-07:00

My husband and I are both in bed with a cold, but I made my escape to my PC. We are a marvelous couple with a faux antique finish. The way we bicker you would swear we had been married since I was in an incubator, but it will be three years June 10! Before I crawled to the computer, we were watching a movie. Tracy and Hepburn were on screen and I asked him if he was familiar with either. He, of course, did not know their names. He is 59. I ask questions like that just to annoy myself. All he could say was that Kate needed a sandwich. Arrgggh! He forgot my name once too...left a message on the machine to Carol, his ex-wife. If she didn't look like a pock marked wrinkled Linda Blair when her head is spinning and spitting pea soup in the Exorcist, I might be jealous. Ok, enough for now, back to bed.

You're So Money and You Don't Even Know It

2005-05-10T04:42:00.000-07:00

My sister keeps yelling at me because I do not update my blog often enough. I have a lot to say when posting comments on the blogs of others. I can spend twenty minutes at Conversations about Famous People http://conversationsfamouspeople.blogspot.com/. (I have never learned how to link without posting the whole URL. Please leave instructions in the "Comments" section.) I just do not much to say about myself right now. I am not quite comfortably numb. I haven't had a drink in a while but my rainbow combination of psychotropics gives my psyche a pedicure. Sloughs off the rough edges. In the 12 and 12 of AA, a line addresses losing your personality by submitting to a higher power. Something along the lines of becoming like "the hole in the donut". God, sober drunks love their donuts. The simile is no accident. I have submitted, not to God, or AA, but to pharmacology. I have lost my effervescence. I have been an Ivy League slut, addict, fascist, liberal, alcoholic, stripper (one amateur night-hey, it counts! You try removing a thong in front of fifty people in four inch heels while drunk!), housewife, psycho...but all my books have been written by someone else. When I was wheeling around the country drunk and looking for a fix in a fifee piece, I was exciting and excited. As much as I may know it is not true, I still believe there is something glittering and glamorous about being wasted by 10am. A mess, but I came to each morning thinking, no, knowing, that anything could happen.

At least he wasn't wearing his area code...

2005-05-04T21:10:00.000-07:00

Scotty the Body was axed from American Idol tonight. I have to wonder if voters snatched him from Paula Abdul's bed. He does like an ethnic woman...his baby mama is a woman of colour. He used to beat her with a telephone. Not a cell phone, an "old school" phone. Like a typical black woman, a la Shar Jackson. she hated him until she thought she might get some bucks. Back to Scotty. Paula couldn't have been advising him on wardrobe like she did Corey Clark because I know she reads my blog. She knows NO ONE wears Burberry anymore. You have to make goody bags, complete with crack smoking kits, out of the purses to make homeless people carry them. Unless there was some Chore Boy stuffed in the pocket of that Burberry shirt Scott had on, I don't see why he would sport it...ah, a huge tartan mystery!

Kiddie Porn:In Denim!

2005-05-01T21:45:00.000-07:00

Just when I thought nothing could annoy me as much as SJP dancing in khakis....I assume my dear readers have seen Joss Stone's commercial for the GAP. She sings, she dances, she advertises white jeans. However, the camera keeps focusing on her crotch. It cuts away, then it comes back to her underage cootchie! Okay, they show her booty a few times too. Child Assage in Denim is acceptable, Brooke made it so in her Calvins before Joss was born. But labial cleavage? Ewww.....

If you ask me Doug, you're the one who is immature...

2005-04-19T06:20:00.000-07:00

Spicoli!
I was lucky this morning to find "Fast Time at Ridgemont High" just as it was coming on!!! I love this movie more each time I see it. Sean Penn before he was arrogant and self satisfied. He actually appears to have a sense of humor. Watching this, I can understand why Madonna married him. This movie is second only to "The Outsiders" for having every future star before they became famous in it! Playing bit surfer parts are Anthony Edwards and that kid from Mask. Nicolas Cage is in it for a second, although he was still going by Coppola then. Lana Clarkson makes a brief appearance too. You remember, she is the one Phil Spector supposedly shot a couple of years ago. Mike Damone and Mr. Hand, the late great Ray Walston, are my fav characters! Who are yours???

Take this job and shove it.

2005-04-17T01:48:00.000-07:00

I am tired of asking why I am so lonely and feel so depressed. Why do I ask when it is so obvious that I have no friends and have no life? That sounds pathetic but I really don't. I go a week at a time without leaving the house. I then only leave to go to doctors or go out and get drunk. All my feelings that have been numbed by my antipsychotics and antidepressants come tumbling out when I toss alcohol on them but then I get so wasted I can't remember them. I cannot remember the last time my husband hugged me or kissed me. It's 5am and I just asked him if he ever planned to change, if he ever was going to try to work on our relationship. He said no, that he has given up. I give up too.

Like a Virgin

2005-04-13T13:59:00.000-07:00

Hopping through blogs, I came across one where a gentleman is noting his one year sobriety anniversary in AA. It caused my to feel, well, ambivalent. Almost like drinking because I was "almost" pained. I feel an uncomfortable ache in my chest. It may be hard to believe, but an aging slut like me never wishes for sexual innocence. I humped my way to being this MONDAINE and I am not going back. I have also been "mind fucked"-vilolated 18 different ways-but in most fields, I do not long for any intellectual virginity. Yet, I wish I had never been to AA. A year ago I would have said because it ruined my drinking. As the Big Book says, after each debacle, the troubled drinker will think "maybe those AA's were right". But now I wish I had never been because then I could go now, and maybe believe. Believe that people were good, believe that God would not fail me, believe in the 12 steps, believe that those people weren't just ass chasing coffee swilling fucking phonies. Unfortunately, that is MY EXPERIENCE!!! If that experience were erased, if I were new, if I were fresh, dumb, maybe as willing as the dying and open minded, I said open minded can be, I could get and stay sober. Staying is my problem. I am sober now, was sober yesterday, most likely will be sober tomorrow. However, as I know the sun will come up tomorrow, I know I will insanely pick up my next drink. Its inevitability is absurd in its simplicity. Only two things in life are guaranteed...death and taxes. OOPS! and that I will drink again, and again until I die.

2005-04-13T07:20:00.000-07:00

Check out the schnoze!

I saw a commercial for the new reality show "I Married a Princess" and they did not mention Catherine Oxenberg's name but it was obvious she was the star, the "princess" of the show. She is a daughter to Princess Elizabeth of Yugoslavia, distant cousin to the British royals. Catherine herself portrayed Diane, Princess of Wales, in a TV movie of the week years ago. Back when she had THE NOSE FOR IT. Back when she had a beak, she was most famous for a role on Dynasty. In the commercials for her new show, I could hardly place her because her nose has been altered so much. It is straight from the "Jennifer Grey School of Rhinoplasty"-it renders the subject unrecognizable!

Body BEAT!!!!

2005-04-13T06:51:00.000-07:00

Scary kids!

I remember when Kathleen Turner was younger, and errr, beautiful as hard as it is to believe looking at this picture. Always lacked a bit of humility. She was quoted in a magazine as saying that she could walk into a room and make ANY straight man turn his head. Oh, for such an ego, it must hurt getting old. Makes me want to lay off the booze forever.

Pardon me, would you be a neurotic dieter?

2005-04-05T20:46:00.000-07:00

Try celery dipped in Grey Poupon. I read somewhere that you burn more calories digesting celery than it actually contains. Hmmm...if I were not so lazy I would research it. Someone who needs a diet is Britney Spears. She looks uglier, plumper and trashier in every pic I see of her. Shar Jackson is starting to look good!

Sniff my crotch and it doesn't smell like Louis Vuitton cherries!

2005-04-04T02:53:00.000-07:00

Hello again to all my friends! I have been away for a while. My lesser half discovered me buying a LV Cerises Speedy 25 and revoked my computer privileges for a bit. The bastard. I just need to say there are some nasty bitches out there. I hope my dear reader is not one of them. I was telling my mother how horrified I am about these new aromatherapeutic feminine hygiene products. These are pads scented like aloe, lavender and chamomile. I was looking for the link before I explicated here my distaste, and discovered something even worse! Reusable maxi pads!!! http://cat3779581.health.24bestbuy.com/itemB0001ZZJO6/Reusable_Maxi_Pad_3_ea.html?PHPSESSID=3337ee5b085842140600321400e7711f
Who are the tree fetishist PETA members using these??? EWWWWWWWWW!!!!

Nobody does Yale better...

2005-03-15T13:38:00.000-08:00

Book Review: Tired Tale of Neurotic Coed
Tue Mar 15,10:10 AM ET

Reviews - AP
By COLLEEN LONG, Associated Press Writer
College is supposed to be a time of freedom, a time to explore new things and learn how to think for yourself. This is precisely why "Chloe Does Yale," a novel by Yale graduate Natalie Krinsky, is so disappointing.
AP Photo

There is virtually nothing fresh about this tired tale of a neurotic coed sloshing through campus life. Instead, the novel reads as if Krinsky had watched every episode of "Sex and the City" and had simply tried to mimic her favorite characters. Of course, she also mimics herself.
Krinsky wrote a sex column while a student at Yale and her heroine, Chloe Carrington, is a sex columnist for the Yale Daily News. Chloe is also from New York and obsessed with couture and her looks. Her column is titled "Sex and the (Elm) City." She's sometimes confident but also extremely insecure, much like Carrie Bradshaw, a character made famous by author Candace Bushnell and portrayed on the HBO series by Sarah Jessica Parker.

Yet another book I could have written better. I was too busy at Yale writing theater and arts reviews to write a sex column. Although I am sure she has nothing on me! My first twenty two were Yale men. Oh, except for that one member of the British sailing team. No wonder I married a British Marine!

Star Fucking

2005-03-12T00:48:00.000-08:00

Sorry I haven't blogged in a few days. Who am I apologizing to? My breathless fans? I have been reading and studying French. Well, sort of..I am undisciplined. My first few classes, I wanted to impress my fellow students and teacher and feel superior so I thought out every frog syllable carefully before uttering it. That was mentally exhausting, so then I just started speaking French when asked a question in class, without thinking about it. When Alice the instructor would correct a verb conjugation here and there, I really didn't know what she was talking about because I was thinking about what I was saying not how I was saying it. I didn't specifically remember using the word she was talking about..even though I had used it only moments before...just the way my brain works. While I am pleased that I can speak French without thinking about it, I am not sure I am learning as much. In my spare time I will continue to study grammar so that hopefully my babbling will be well structured. On to the topic at hand...STAR FUCKING. I had the extreme displeasure of reading Rosie O'Donnell's blog this week. http://onceadored.blogspot.com/ She is too lazy to write actual sentences, just bad stream of consciousness "beat" poetry about Boy George and meanies calling her fat. The worst part of the blog though are the posts by those who have their noses up her twat. In stark contrast to R's minimalism, they write paragraphs and paragraphs, so starved are they for Rosie love and attention. Please please Rosie read my blog!!!! Rosie I am a lesbian too!!! Do you want a pen pal Rosie??? SO SO PATHETIC!!! And Rosie herself is so unstable, still on the meds after being depressed over Columbine( hmm, if I were Rosie I would be depressed about a few other things), she flips the switch all day, on and off, on the ability for others to post comments on her blog! I guess she turns it on again when she needs to hear how wonderful she is, stretched out to seven paragraphs...

I should shoot my stylist...

2005-03-07T21:25:00.000-08:00

When recently in the hospital, I awoke to find a counselor by my bed. I told her I was too tired to talk and dismissed her with a sniff. Instead of walking away she asked if I had a place to live. I was wounded. I wanted to ask, would a vagrant have this dye job and cut? Admittedly, my coif was not well conditioned, but still...I should have thrown a Prada shoe at her but I mumbled "yes" and went back to sleep. Another thing that bugged me about the staff at this glorified jitter joint is that it considered my sojourn at Yale something I could fall back on, once, you know, I pulled it together. In the words of my psychiatrist, I had "let myself go." Gee, is that a clinical term? As far as I am concerned the attendance at Yale of a Mexican waiter's daughter is a symptom of grandiosity and pomposity. I wanted to go there because I was mentally ill. That I was gifted enough to go is an inconsequential detail. As an adolescent I was only slightly less delusional than the lady on my ward in the hospital who told me she was the queen of Denmark AND a nuclear physicist! Speaking of Denmark, I announced to my mother once that I was interested in mounting a one woman show of Hamlet, with myself as the star! Un peu de trop!~I guess it is kind of amusing that such an undertaking would be easier for most people than getting into Yale.

Rope Burn

2005-02-25T17:51:00.000-08:00

Last weekend, my husband sold a lady a rope. On Tuesday, the police came by because she was reported missing. She had made her last purchase on her credit card there. Wednesday they found her abandoned car. Yesterday they found her hanging from a tree in Virginia. A suicide. She was 28.

My KGB Baby!

2005-02-25T04:21:00.000-08:00

Am I the only one who thinks Vladimir Putin is sexy? He sizzles in a spy who loved me kind of way. Most little boys want to be firemen or doctors, but little Vladdie wanted to be a spy! And years before “perestroika” his dreams came true when he was recruited by the KGB. After the Russians decided they wanted to be like us, the KGB had to be even more on the "down low" and Vladdie went on to a university job before becoming involved in government posts. I read his book First Person sitting outside a cafe on Capitol Hill. I imagined Putin paying a state visit, and stopping in for a caramel macchiato two blocks from the Capitol. Our eyes meet, and later I am slipped a note...oh never mind...this was before I was married and on medication. I will just say that my fantasies about him were very dignified. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!

She's On That Stuff...

2005-02-25T03:53:00.000-08:00

LOS ANGELES (Feb. 24) - Grammy-winning singer Whitney Houston got ill on an airliner bound for France and was taken Thursday to a Paris hospital for treatment of apparent food poisoning, her publicist said.

I hope she flushed her pipe...

Before Winona was a thief

2005-02-23T21:35:00.000-08:00

Watching Girl Interrupted. Reminds me of psych wards before insurance companies ruined the therapeutic milieu! When I was forced into my first psych ward as a freshman at Yale, the average stay was a month. Now insurance companies only want to authorize 4 days or so. Before, the patients had time to bond and form the wonderful camaraderie of mentally ill people further possessed of an "us versus them" mentality. In short, it put the "fun" in the funny farm! I have been hospitalized 20 times or so and only the first 8 times provided any entertainment of the kind in "Girl Interrupted". As a patient, you need a few days to get comfortable in your surroundings before you start manipulating the staff , fellow patients and their visitors. I was never really mean spirited...ok maybe I was. I convinced one schizophrenic male patient who for smelled of rotting eggs that I wanted to be his girlfriend and when his actual significant other visited, I taunted her with this information. I forget his name, but I remember Marsha, Marsha, Marsha. In the smoking lounge, one adolescent playing tough was telling everyone she would hurt herself if she could. I sniffed and said, "Well, when I need to cut myself at this hospital, I always use the light bulbs." She escaped with minor scratches. I was just trying to help.

I need an Hermes scarf

2005-02-23T16:02:00.000-08:00

maybe it's these French lessons. It has to not match anything I own. Someone get me one.

2005-02-23T06:53:00.000-08:00

Separated At Birth...Cue the Porn Music

Is Vince Neil looking more like Ron Jeremy every day, or what?

I am 32 Flavors and Then Some...

2005-02-23T00:53:00.000-08:00

"You might say we're a nation of picky eaters. Americans eat the same 14 to 18 dishes over and over, says Cary Neff, famed spa chef, author of "Conscious Cuisine" (Sourcebooks, 2004), and consultant to Jenny Craig. Typically, we eat the same breakfast, vary our lunches slightly and for dinner have about eight to 10 different meals every month."

My gut on this is that I have a more varied diet than 14 or 18 dishes...let's see! My list:

Yogurt
Cereal
Pizza
Pretzels
Smoothies
Salad
Zucchini
Hamburger Patties
Luncheon meat sandwiches
Spaghetti
Lasagna
Nachos
Cottage cheese
Quesadillas
Ice Cream
Green Beans
Spaghetti Squash
Asparagus
Soup
Cauliflower
Carrots
Canned fruit
Apples
Tangerines
Macaroni and Cheese

Whew, I know there must be more, but I have to admit around 18 it did get hard to list any new foods! I would love to see your items!

Deus Ex Machina

2005-02-22T19:54:00.000-08:00

There he is...The Purple One. I started French classes tonight so someone had to be in charge. I studied French for eight years but that was thirteen years ago. Back to the Barnster. He is wearing his wrap with faux fur trim I got him at Baby Gap. I have a very similar coat I wore when we took him to the Ritz Carlton for Thanksgiving Brunch. It is so touching when mother and son match. I have loved Barney since 1993 when I was in Alexandria, VA. I was living in a very expensive but stuck in the 70's effenciency I found once I lost my journalism internship with free housing. My psychiatrist introduced me to Zanax, so I popped pills all day, nodded, ate cream of asparagus out of the can and watched Barney three or four times a day. At night, I cought a cab into DC and lounged at hotel bars. I longed for a Barney to call my own. When I returned to my hometown of Dallas my father bought me one. I had to promise to get a job, but as soon as I swore I would, the next day we hopped in the car and went to the toy store! Vive le Barney!

Oh How Cute! An 11 year old Sadist!!!

2005-02-21T18:39:00.000-08:00

http://punkrawklives.blogspot.com/2005_02_01_punkrawklives_archive.html

This 11 year old girl loves spaghetti and pizza! Ah, and she also loves to set people on fire or hurt them in other ways! I was munching on my delicious diner of radishes and somehow found this. I really pray this is a joke. So much for parental supervision. She is ripe for cult conversion but so far she has no responses. I do not want to be the first. The police have enough reasons to look for me.

Hunter Thompson Kills Himself

2005-02-21T11:43:00.000-08:00

DENVER Hunter S. Thompson, the counterculture literary figure who rode with the Hells Angels, famously chronicled the Nixon-McGovern presidential race and coined the term "gonzo journalism," committed suicide Sunday night at his secluded home outside Aspen, Colo., his son said. Thompson was 67.

This is what I woke up to this morning, if you consider 2pm morning. He shot himself in the head. In my adolescence, I romanticized suicide, especially that of Marilyn Monroe. I took my first overdose of pills, a bottle of Tylenol, when I was twelve. Before I passed out, I remember going out on the front porch and looking at the gritty urban scape but also the trees and sky and feeling something like freedom. Since then I have overdosed countless times. But I'm still standing the little Elton John in my head is singing. It has been less than a year since I took an overdose but for me it feels like a blessedly long time. When I read the news about Mr. Thompson, my thoughts were that he was finally at peace and at least its not me.

"I hate to advocate weird chemicals, alcohol, violence or insanity to anyone but they've always worked for me," Thompson said.

Except sometimes they stop working.

Donate Your Burberry Handbags to the Homeless!

2005-02-20T21:07:00.000-08:00

It can't go on people. If you still happen to be carrying a Burberry bag bearing the famous Novacheck plaid, you must stop now. I am going to go ahead and apply the moratorium to the scarves, coats, hats and doggy bowls too. Let your pooch not be passe. I know that only applied to three or four or you. The rest of you retired your merchandise to the back of the closet months, or YEARS ago. I have not sported Burberry check in over two years. The only thing worse than carrying a Burberry bag is carrying a counterfeit Burberry bag. More than once I have been tempted to approach a challenged chickadee on the street, bar or restaurant and give her my address so she could pick up my Burberry and at least make a genuine mistake, instead of a cheap knock off faux pas. For the philanthropic inclined, I say let us not waste these purses of plaid. I have been inspired by PETA's work with the indigent, passing out donated fur coats to the homeless so that someone who is not rich can use them. This was done most recently here in DC, where 50 used pelts were given away at a shelter. PETA made sure every coat was damaged by paint or slices through the fur so that the homeless could not resell the coats. (READ:NO COATS FOR CRACK. Marion Berry might be lurking to party hardy!) So I say take out that Burberry and hand it to that homeless woman you ignore on the way to Starbucks every morning! Go ahead and play fairy god mother and add make it a goody bag. An apple, a sugar free Red Bull, perfume samples, tooth towels add that extra touch that say you care!

This blog is NOT about David Dellinger

2005-02-20T19:33:00.000-08:00

Apparently in the 1990's he wrote a memoir with the title "From Yale to Jail: The Life Story of a Moral Dissenter." He is dead anyway. Died last year. I haven't been to jail in a while. I live in Washington DC and have never been a guest at one of their detention facilities. I do have a friendly relationship with local law enforcement though due to my husband's propensity for calling them when I get drunk and hit him over the head with jewelry boxes. It goes something like this...He calls. I calm down. They show up and ask me if I have taken my medication today and if I am not slurring too badly they commend me for only drinking a 12 pack of Coors Light instead of a case. Then I promise to behave and hubby takes the dog for a walk. This hasn't happened in months though. I have cut back on the drinking. In a month, I have only been drunk two times. Unfortunately, I am not doing my "controlled" drinking and
just downing a case. I somehow in the past few months became a vodka drinker again. In my florid minds eye, I am the plumper friend you never saw on 'Sex and the City". Strictly cosmos and flirtinis! However, according to the cruel queens in gay bars of Capitol Hill, I am not even a Desperate Housewife. Twice I was told my drinking companions felt they were in an episode of Roseanne. I hope they meant the episodes after her plastic surgery. Ah, vanity!