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.
so i am back on the island of civilized people and away from all that vapid nonsense on the west coast. all people do there is drive their cars and eat salad and go to power meetings and talk about the industry and give me shit for trying to live my life the way i want to.
i can’t really tell you about the last couple of days i was there because they are kind of a haze of parties and bitches calling me on the phone about meetings i was supposed to be at but couldn’t be bothered to make it to. people were bugging me so much that i had to take two times the amount of klonopin i normally do. (if you will recall, it’s totally doctor prescribed). so if you read anything in the tabloids about me assualting a stewardess with a hair dryer until she begged for mercy, it’s so not true because i was heavily sedated during my return flight. plus why would i carry a hairdryer onto a first class flight anyways? for that matter, why would i even have any carry-on luggage at all so therefore how could it even be possible that i would be carrying a hairdryer? i so don’t carry my own luggage.
i went to see the philharmonic with whit after i got back. that was cool because i got to chill with whit who basically reminded me that i totally don’t have to do what all those industry people are telling me to do. i mean, come on, i don’t want to make anyone jealous or anything like that but I AM an heiress after all and i’m totally young and good looking and if people are stressing me out it’s only going to be bad for my physique in some way, you know? but whit totally comforted me in my hour of need because he is my daddy and he loves me.
check out how much: he was all, “remember that you’re the one with the talent, baby. all those industry types are nothing more than a bunch of mediocre bean counters.” then he gave me a pat on the head which made me feel better about the whole miserable experience.
i don’t remember that much from the symphony because i haven’t quite cut down on my sedative intake yet but i did remember that it was by tchaikovsky which, incidentally, you don’t pronounce “t-cheek-off-ski” you say CHAI-COUGH-SKI (you can remember it by saying chai (as in tea), cough (as in I’m clearing my throat) and ski (you know what skiing is! DUH!) although, T-cheek-off-ski would be a hella fresh name for a DJ… i should trademark that shit, yo!
i told sugar it saw a tchaikovsky symphony and girlfriend totally busted out this fresh quote by him and told me all about him because sugar is hell of smart like that and knows all kinds of stuff about dead people who used to be famous. anyhow, the quote completely illustrates how painful my whole recent ordeal in california was for me so i had sugar type it up for me so i could share it with you:
“Fate, the force of destiny, which ever prevents our pursuit of happiness from reaching it’s goal… it is invincible, inescapable. One can only resign oneself and lament fruitlessly.”
it’s not my fault that i’m so hott right now. it is my destiny and there’s nothing i can do about it. but even though it’s my destiny, i’m going to do my best to not let my career get in the way of my partying.
WORD UP, DJ T-CHEEK-OFF-SKI!!
i talked to whitney yesterday for the first time in ages. (FYI, for the uninitiated, whitney is AKA my dad and he is also furthermore shortened to and otherwise AKA’d as whit). whit has always insisted on me calling him by his first name. he always said it was because he wanted me to learn to be on “equal footing” with adults but i really think that he is trying to convince potential skanks that i am his sister! OK! i know! he is totally incorrigible but he is also super cute for an old guy and if he wasn’t my dad i might go out with him – if i was like 28 or in that general area of being very nearly over the hill, with no estimated billion dollar plus fortune in trust and no product endorsement deals or celebrity status of any kind.
truth be told, i’ve been ditching his calls as of late.
DON’T HATE. you would ditch whit too if he was regaling YOU with endless tales of his physical ailments related to the aging process.
his most recent body breakdown drama is having kidney stones. he was all, “baby, they have to give me a dick probe to find out what’s going on down there!”
i was like, “EW.”
then i told him that if he expected me to listen to his medical problems in detail like that, he would have to take me to the burberry store on a weekly basis. i’m totally into burberry right now.