Damn, the world looks small from up here.
me and DJTM just got done watching oprah. of course we would NEVER usually watch that show because we’re nearly almost always still asleep at that hour of the afternoon, but we set the alarm because of the guests — my ex-rehab cohort, pussy panty waste disgraced author james frey, and that bitch who got me arrested for the second time this month, his editor, nan taleese.
although i don’t feel like i need to waste precious minutes of my life typing it since it is now commonly understood as fact, they both totally SUCK.
i don’t like this whole emphasis being put on the truth now and it’s all their fault. and if those two assholes had never gotten caught for that perpetration of a book OF ALL THINGS then the truthiness would still be relevant, y’know?
so the moral of this whole james frey debacle is that truthiness is much cuter than truth. you just can’t get caught or called out on it or you’ll look like an opportunistic poseur.
you will never in a million years guess who i ran into at telepan.
nan taleese. nan ta-fucking-leese. can you fucking believe it? wait a minute, biotch, do you even know who nan taleese is? unless you have been living under a rock, of course you totally know who she is. she’s james fucking frey’s agent, yo. i know, right? like what an amazing opportunity for me to get involved in all this james frey controversy and like implement my clever plans to steer the tidal wave of publicity surrounding it towards me and my own career.
i was halfway through my $15.50 side of cauliflower and DJTM had just passed out in his nicoise salad with watercress. it was really gross. as he was lying there, there was this weird stuff coming out of his mouth or the garlic lemon poppyseed aioli dressing was just really close to his mouth and looked like it was coming out of it. whit had left the table under the auspices of going to the bathroom but was most likely chasing this aging model he’s been trying to make into my my next soon to be ex-stepmom. i don’t know what she’s playing hard to get for, she’s not going to do much better than whit.
anyways, i’m getting progressively more drunk and bored and was about to nudge DJTM awake so he could entertain me when i saw nan. she’s freaky lookin’ huh? what do you think her surgeon has done to her to make her look like a fetal alcohol syndrome victim rabbit hybrid? how could he do that to her and still be board certified?
so i go over to her table to tell her about my plan to restore james frey’s credibility and, in turn, boost my own publicity. but nan, bitch that she is, wouldn’t even give me the time of day. almost as soon as i start sharing my plan to turn the publicity wave back in her favor, she fucking tells me to contact her assistant and makes this weird expression at me that i guess was supposed to be some kind of polite fuckin’ don’t call me, i’ll call you grimace. so i totally grabbed her water glass out of her hand and went to smack her over the head with it, screaming all the while that i didn’t take that kind of shit from james frey so why did she think i was going to take it from her. but before i could bring the glass down, for the second friggin’ time this month, i was restrained by the wait staff.
then the police were called and i was shipped off to the slammer, blah blah blah.
DJTM and whit just picked me up and now we’re going home. i can’t believe that once again the highlight of the festivities is car-blogging. i really do have to come up with another name for that. especially if i’m going to spend so much time doing it.
boy oh boy, starryshiners, has this been a whack ass day or WHAT?
let me answer that for you:
it totally fucking has.
when last i typed at you, i was all searching my own personal memories of my time in rehab with disgraced writer, james frey. as you may recall, i was totally lamenting the lack of any anecdotes that portray him as a badass as i was hoping to gain some much needed publicity for myself by coming to his defense.
after realizing the conundrum i was in, i got totally depressed and took some extra prescription medication along with some recreational drugs that i won’t identify because they might incriminate me. then i started drinking and calling DJTM repeatedly and incessantly to get him to come home from his recording session.
when he finally got home, he brought fucking whit (my dad) with him and they insisted on doing an intervention on me. i was all, oh come on! this is like grade school all over again, dad! and this time there’ll be no james frey to beat up in rehab! whit got all emotional and exasperated and finally i was all, daddy, would you just have a drink and can we puhleeze talk about something else? i have that single malt you like so much, etc.
so finally he relents and has a couple cocktails and mellows out and is all where’re we going for dinner? of course DJTM was drinking the whole time, along with trips to the bathroom to do some other substance that he wasn’t sharing enough with me and that i, again, won’t identify on the grounds that it might incriminate him and me by association.
we called the car service and as i blog this to you, we’re all in the car on our way to telepan. they’ve got the best cauliflower in midtown there. all is right with the world at the moment. ive got my daddy and DJTM at my side. i’m going to be eating a $15.50 dish of cauliflower within the hour and i’m totally blogging in the car. i totally love blogging in the car. i think there should be a word for it. it should be like pod-casting but like car-blogging. except obviously it should be called something else.
there’s still nothing but james frey going on in the news cycle which means that there is no news of my arrest and wrongful imprisonment anywhere to be found. my anxiety that my career is going to be overshadowed by DJTM’s new rap career is totally growing and i told him as much this afternoon. one would think that one’s fiancée would offer them words of encouragement that that wasn’t going to happen and that our love would transcend differing career trajectories but that totally did not happen.
instead DJTM like left and is totally gone. he’s in some studio somewhere near brooklyn or some place like kicking out a new jam and no doubt is getting all krunk without me. and while i’m peeved that he’s not like working on our relationship, i’m grateful for the time alone. the solitude has given me the space to compose a letter to james frey’s publishers telling them that i can back up their claims that he’s the real deal badass he said he was and how i should know because i was in rehab with him back in the day. i know, i know — i said he was dick and all — but you can’t help a girl for trying to attach herself to an infamous jerk du jour in an effort to gain some much needed publicity so her boyfriend won’t start thinking he’s better than her or something.
the only problem is that i’m having a hard time giving him props for being quel badassy because every single recollection i have of him when we were in treatment together involves me kicking his ass. as a matter of fact, we eventually had to do this mediation thingie because he was starting to get scared at the mere sight of me due to the continuous beatdowns i would give him at every opportunity. the mediation was no exception. mere moments after we sat down to work out our differences and try to come to a mutually respectful agreement, he said something stupid and i ended up beating him and the counselor upside the head with this inspirational sign that was hanging on the wall.
anyhoo, i just don’t think james getting his ass kicked by an eleven year old girl is going to do much to lend his rep the much needed street cred it so desperately needs. i would totally lie about it but there’s already so much attention being paid to this whole truth and nothing but the truth issue that that might end up causing me more problems than it solves. i might as well, like, do something else. fuck. i totally hate doing things. the only thing i hate more than doing things is having to think about something else to do. or maybe i hate it slightly less? i don’t know but anything that involves doing something sucks big time.
OK so this whole disgraced writer debacle is really starting to work my last nerve. it’s like totally usurping all the rest of the celebrity gossip and irritating me to no end. news about my recent arrest is nowhere to be found and i completely blame james fucking frey for it. if the world wasn’t all abuzz with the news of what a panty-waste poser he is, more attention would be being paid to the things that really matter, like wrongful celebutante incarcerations and starlet asthma attacks.
i swear, that guy was a dick 12 years ago when we were in rehab together and he’s a dick now.
i’ll never forget the first time i saw him in our daily group therapy sessions. like all tony and elite rehabs, ours was in the middle of small town nowhere in a non-descript state that a person living in the fast and glamourous VIP lane would not have occasion to visit otherwise. as you can imagine, this caused quite a bit of stir-craziness and us inpatients had to find new and ingenious ways to amuse ourselves with our new clean and sober lifestyle. after the first few days i had pretty much had my fill of the usual distractions like intra-facility sexual escapades, drinking rubbing alcohol and calling my less party hearty girlfriends to solicit clean bottles of pee. and because i was so much younger then (in case you don’t remember the tabloid headlines, i was 11) i was quite a bit more ornery than i am now. i had a lot of like hyper manic tendencies because of the combination of the intense detoxification i was going through and my, at the time, undiagnosed ADD.
anyways, all of this would pretty much come to a head in the grueling group therapy sessions and i would often end up physically lashing out at the other patients. pretty much any other detoxing pre-teen would have done the same i think. i mean, the way they set up those folding metal chairs in a circle pretty much invites a physical confrontation. those chairs were just begging to be picked up and thrown at the person across the room and it’s not my fault if that dickhead james frey is all telling me to “hold on.” i mean, that’s his fault, that a chair wound up hitting him in the head and all the other patients ended up making fun of him for getting beat down by an eleven year old metal chair wielding girl.
i’m still not talking to DJTM because he still hasn’t bought me a new fendi. i even gave him the money to go get me one and he’s completely and totally ignoring me. true, he’s been asleep for the last 36 hours and therefore was probably not aware when i put the money in his back pocket but i think if he cared about our relationship he would get over this whole not being able to speak in complete sentences because he’s unconscious front he’s rockin’ and go get me a new fendi. but i guess relationships are like hard, y’know? so i’m being patient and nurturing myself while i wait for him to come around and see my side of things.
like today after i was done with my manicure, pilates workout and my post pilates medically induced purging treatment, i was surfing the net and went looking on the smoking gun to see if they had a picture of my mug shot from my recent arrest. they totally don’t have it yet but i found this article about this like disgraced writer that totally interested me.
now i bet you’re all wondering, starryshine, why in the f does this interest you in the slightest? what do you care about disgraced writers? you like don’t even like reading, remember?! but then i realized that just like that other disgraced writer, i totally know this disgraced writer. when i peeped his pic, i knew i knew him from somewhere, right? and then i realized that we were like totally in rehab together back in the go go 90’s. sheeyah! betcha didn’t know that, biotches, huh? i totally had to go to the ‘hab when i was like 11 and that’s where i met this particular disgraced writer.
it was this like really formative experience for me and i’ll totally type atcha’ about it on the b side, biotches, but right now i have to asta cos’ DJTM is FINALLY waking up. excuse me while i go and hit hit him on the head with my f-ed up fendi again. he needs to be reminded of his responsibilities. i’m tellin’ ya, it’s HARD WORK making relationships work.
i am so completely and totally mistreated and misunderstood.
i just got out of jail.
why does this kind of thing always happen to ME?
i don’t understand what i’ve done to deserve this kind of treatment from law enforcement officials. i mean, i pay someone to pay my taxes for me and don’t litter on purpose unless i need to get rid of an open container in a hurry, so why am i forced to endure this kind of humiliation? i would think that i would be above this kind of thing, not because i’m like better than people like courtney love or nick nolte but because everyone knows that, for the most part, getting arrested is a function of age, disheveled looks and dwindling career opportunities and none of those things are factors that i have to contend with.
so there we were, me and DJTM, and we’re all totally waiting to get a table at little giant (which is like this whole other indignity that i won’t even get into to) and who should walk in with his entourage and like get a table with no problemo? none other than mr. i’m going to sue your ass for sexual harassment when i’m the one who initiated the full gluteal massages that i lovingly gave you on a regular basis during the development of the very starryshine xmas special. that’s right, biotches, that DICK aaron, the producer. so he totally sees me, right? he totally sees me and like nods at me like he’s not totally suing me and like he’s so much better than me because he’s got a table and me and my emerging rap star boyfriend are like not good enough. well, as you can imagine, i did not even stand for that for like one second and totally tarted beating him on top of the head with my fendi clutch.
so then i’m like restrained by the wait staff and some good samaritan ass wipe restaurant patron biotches until the police get there and aaron like freaks out and insists that they like remand me to custody and DJTM is like nowhere to be found in all the melee to explain that none of this was my fault because dickhead aaron’s lawsuit totally provoked me. then i get taken down to the station and had to be like booked and everything and finally DJTM comes with the car service to pick me up after whit’s lawyer posts bond for me.
it took DJTM far too fucking long to get there. you can bet i totally smacked him upside the head with my fendi so now it’s all bent funny. i’m totally not talking to him until he buys me a new one.
as i’m sure you will remember, i totally don’t like reading books. i basically have no use for what i’m sure is a banal pastime in this modern age of tmobiles, TV movies, and glossy magazines with lots of pictures. however, in my frequent socializing with high society and the celebrity elite around and about new york city, i am often in the company of people who have not only read but who have also actually written books.
so i’m sure you can imagine my surprise when i saw that my literati glitterati homeboy jt leroy was outed as not actually existing. as you may recall, back in october (check the archives, biotch, cos’ i’m too lazy to link it), when accusations of JT’s unreality were being bandied about in the local rags, i not only had a moment during which i questioned my own existence but i also came to JT’s defense. but then i totally realized that me worrying about not being really real was actually just a result of over-doing it with the club drugs and that it’s important for me to make sure that ingesting recreational drugs doesn’t render me so fucked up that i won’t be responsible for taking my prescription medication when i’m supposed to or i’ll lose track of things like distance, time and spatial relationships.
that was a really important lesson. but not half as important as it is to make sure that when you french kiss a literary superstar, you better make sure that they’re not some literary hoax because apparently that’s par for the course with people who write books. mark my word, my dear little biotch, you will have to field emails from them for months about how much they want you to edit their books, even though you keep telling them that you don’t even like books as you attempt to continually steer the conversation back to the topic of lip gloss. you will ask them repeatedly, can we please just talk about lip gloss again? but they won’t listen to you.
right after i last touched base with you, i flew to miami for jamie foxx’s rap-tastic new year’s soiree. when i left DJTM’s parched and traumatized side at the hospital, i made my way over to a private bash at club collette. as soon as i got there, i realized that i hadn’t eaten for like three or four days or something like that. so i start munching down on this little canapé that was filled with some lobster duck confit type of foodlike substance. but i can’t be too sure of what it was because ive been fasting soooooo much lately that i’ve managed to train myself to not taste food anymore. that intensive training combined with my strong willpower and the medication i’m taking for my ADD, the appetite suppressants i devour in lieu of food every four hours and all of the various other party supplements i consume on a regular basis have made it possible for me to basically avoid eating almost entirely. is that not totally cool?
so i’m standing off to the side and surreptitiously nibbling on the canapé because i don’t want to be seen doing anything as crass and unfashionable as eating and as i’m surveying the scene, i spot these two guys i knew at prep school. one of them spotted me but i think i managed to duck down in the nick of time, before he could see me eating and i was able to spit out the canapé onto the floor in a corner behind a potted fern.
when i pulled my head up, i tossed my hair back like i was just doing a glamour pose or something. then i smiled at him and he came over and asked me to come with them to JFK where one of their daddy’s had a private jet waiting there to take us down to miami. you can bet your booty i accompanied them down there although the rest of the evening and ringing in the new years is kind of hazy for me. i think one of them may have slipped me a roofie or something. i think i remember him getting in trouble for that sort of thing back at the academy. whatev’s though, because i totally made it to THE party of the year! i know because i woke up there naked in one the guest bedrooms. great way to ring in the new year huh??? it’s gonna be a good one i think.
after the stress of the friends of starryshine xmas special was over and the selection of my legal defense team in the sexual harassment suit assembled, the big decision that DJTM and i have had to make in is where oh where are a celebutante and her rap star boyfriend going to go to ring in the new year in the most fabulous way possible?
to complicate matters even further, after the friends of starryshine wrap party, DJTM’s rap song caused a near sensation and he received numerous invitations to spin at a variety of new year’s eve after parties. but you can bet i told him what time it is — it’s really urgent right now that he focus on our RELATIONSHIP becuz a couple’s first nye together is extremely SERIOUS. he kind of shrugged and his eyes rolled back in his head in that cute way of his but it turned out that he was really having a not so cute after all convulsion of some sort.
so i had to call the service immediately to take him to cedars. it was really touch and go there for a minute. i was still able to take off well before the midnight hour so i’ll still be able to get my party on, yo! DJTM, on the other hand, has to stay overnight for observation — i think they said something about making sure that he doesn’t die of dehydration but i can’t remember.
i left him a glass of water. i think he can reach it.
last night DJTM and myself had to go over to get sue for the wrap party of the special formerly known as a “very starryshine christmas special,” which, as you know, morphed into the “friends of starryshine christmas special.”
i really think that sue could leave the hospital at this point. i mean, she was only in there for a bad back and no one needs to stay in the hospital that long for a bad back. i was thinking she was fakin’ it for the meds, right? she confessed that that was a pretty nice side bennie to her hospital stay but then disclosed the real reason she’s still at cedar’s — she’s having her townhouse repainted and didn’t want to commute in from the hamptons so she figured it was easier to just remain infirm for now — and plus the park 55 lacked amenities like the kickin’ meds she’s on (sue was all, “just let those jackass sheistering doctors try to say i don’t have a bad back!” and then she started up with that weird hack/cackle sound effect thing that always kind of freaks me and DJTM out).
she is, however, beginning to tire of sneaking out for four martini lunches at elaines, etc. and have-to-see-and-be-seen-at affairs like the friends of starryshine xmas wrap party. i’m totally tiring of it too! last night i had to smuggle in a party dress for her so she could wear it under her hospital gown and then we had to wait with the car service near the smoking lounge window which she was going to try sneak out of and then DUH! she couldn’t because who makes windows three flights up that you can sneak out of anymore??? especially near midtown! after numerous cell phone calls back and forth between the cedars smoking lounge and the car, she finally relented and agreed to just walk past admitting and sure enough, low and behold, no one stopped her. she acted like she was in fucken’ lockdown or something. even DJTM, who is normally so placid about that kind of thing was visibly peeved.
although we missed the actual real time broadcast of the show, sue’s shenanigans actually worked to our benefit because when we finally did get to the party, it was in full swing. when we arrived, we were greeted with a standing ovation and chants of DJTM!!! DJTM!! apparently, DJTM’s rap song was like this huge hit at the party. i didn’t even know he was like writing a rap song. i mean, i knew he was doing a song but i had no idea it was a rap.
i’m really happy for him. i truly am. there’s no reason he shouldn’t get all the recognition that i truly deserve if someone, who is not me, is going to get it. i mean, he is my man, after all. who i’m pissed at is sue. if she hadn’t been languishing in a hospital bed at cedar’s all this time, i think it’s entirely reasonable to assume that a very starryshine christmas special could’ve gone in an entirely different direction and really could’ve showcased my talents more.
on the plus side, the wrap party was at sky bar which was completely classy and very now and i’m really happy to have hosted it without having had to deal with any of the details that come with hosting a party. i basically took the deal out of details! or the de out of the details so there was only tails. something like that.