That fucking guy.

right now i have THAT roommate in this joint.

you know the one, he's the guy that left all your laundry in a wet pile on the washer because he wanted the dryer. the one that looks sheepish when you go for that last bottle of champagne in the fridge to find it gone. the one that asks if you want a hit off the pipe when he just packed a bowl with your weed. (i don't smoke weed but i've seen that move a thousand times.) the one that asks you for a ride 14 times a day when he could walk his bitch ass to the bus or take a cab. or worse, the one that hangs around the door to your room and says "wow, it sure would be dope if i had a ride to work...yeah, all i need is to find myself a ride to work..."

No, motherfucker. I will not drive you to work for the 8th time this week. why? because the only thing more annoying than a mooch is a HINTER. i hate fucking hinting. just turn around and ask me for a fucking ride, yo. (why you gotta treat me all inferior because i'm on the grill, B? daaamn.")

anyway, today, after he has gotten on my LAST nerve using my expensive-ass Whole Food Market laundry detergent and moving my wet laundry to the top of the washer AND using my cell 6 times (to try to get someone to cover his shift tonight! look, homie, the only thing going for you right now is the fact that you have a job so take yo broke ass to work and make that dough.) i go to the fridge to eat the pizza from yesterday. The box is gone. The four pieces of pizza, also gone.

WHAT THE FUCK.

i was in my room all day, all he had to do was fucking ASK if he could have the god damn pizza and i probably would have given to him. i'm allergic to wheat and i can only have the top anyway. But he fucking sneakily ate it behind my back and then shoved the empty box in the trash can.

so i called him out like everyone else in the house is too much of a pusschops to do.

me: did you eat the pizza in the fridge?

him: yeah. i probably shouldn't have done that, huh?

me: you need to check yourself when it comes to taking other people's shit in this house. it's kind of a trend with you and people are getting pissed.

him: i guess i should have asked...i'll try to figure out a way to fix it.

fix it? it's not a fucking broken lamp or a transmission, motherfucker!

me: don't worry about it, you just need to check yourself with the mooching.

then his ride to work gets here, and he says, "I won't be here to put your wet laundry in the dryer after mine, do you mind doing it?"

i don't know what i expected out of this guy. two of the MC's found him outside wallgreens, fresh from doing time for a DUI, trying to formulate a plan to kill himself. one of the MC's recognized him from rehab (from before the DUI apparently) and remembered that he wasn't that bad of a guy, so they saved his life and let him move in. his only family in the city had disowned him and he only had the shirt on his back, a piece of paper with his PO's number, and a half smoked cigarette. i can not make this shit up.

anyway, i guess it's good that he didn't kill himself. but damn, does he test my patience.

are you still reading this rambling post? i love you.

great story, compelling and rich

just went into the roommate's room to pack some books that were in there. Laying on his bed is this crumpled High Society that i guess has been in the house for over a year. you know, passed around. there's two girls on the front doing the Naked Vagina Pyramid, a tricky and highly complicated move that you may or may not be aware of.

i just spent 3 hours painting over graffiti downstairs so the new roommate that got tricked into living here doesn't think she's moving in with a bunch of hip hop derelicts, which she is.

all i want is a glass of champagne but i drank it all last night while obsessing over Vice Do and Don'ts.

Kim Jong-il.

symobius strikes again...

if they can make me look sweet and innocent, they can do anything, BET.
anton is a genuis, i can't say that enough today.

HHNT Four

Atomic ACP Thirty Round American Slugs

they got me in front of the camera.
www.symobius.com

you've got a great set of NEW YORK BOOBS!

this post will consist mainly of grainy shitty cell phone pictures because i'm a busy woman and i don't always have time to get batteries for my camera. that's my assistant's job. but she doesn't exist. so i never have batteries. whatever.

here's me and my homie outside the worst fashion show ever. no disrespect to the people who busted their ass to put it on or to the girls who shook their ass in the show, but it fucking sucked.
(not pictured: the annoying ass line we had to stand in even though we were on the list. you know, the list.)

the only girl who can talk more shit than me. and look better doing it:

this next picture is ironic because it was taken about ten seconds before i blacked out for real. (get it? because it's almost black? god, no one gets irony anymore.)


i could write a whole post about the below pic. i'll simply list a few main points that would be involved if i had time to write a whole post:

1. avenue a.
2. socks. with platform flip-flops.
3. nitrous. oxide. balloons.

i need these things to fly:
(not picutred: bottle of xanax. also not pictured: the hot asian girl behind the bar that stole the chips for me. all my love, sweetcheeks.)


nicole and victoria beckham. for real for real.


and last but not least!!!! HBHNT!!! (the B stands for belated.)

i keep em knee deep.

photoshoots are not glamorous. in case you were wondering.


if you needed a list of things that are not easy, i happen to have one right here:

1. finding someone to sublet a room in a house full of wily-ass MC's, especially when the room smells like sweat, 40oz malt liquor and has a smashed in door that doesn't shut from when this dude walked in on one of the MCs fucking his girlfriend.

2. getting people to call you back about the loft you want to rent in nyc.

3. being smart. cuz ignorance is bliss.

4. not charging those god damn chanel sunglasses to the AMEX.

5. looking at the AMEX bill.

6. looking at kanye in this fucking outfit without getting violent. david la chapelle, are you responsible for this? because if you are, fuck you.

(the only --and i mean ONLY-- good thing about this shot is the hot girl with the afro on the left.)

7. understanding how pete dougherty is still not in jail. don't they have laws in the UK? come on.



8. not vomiting while listening to your chihuahua obsessively lick its penis and dutch oven the room chihuahua style with it's breath for four hours . (i can only say biggie ENOUGH so many times before it loses effect.)

HNT # 2

how can tits be wrong when they feel so right?




HHNT everyone!

and on the topic of ghetto fabulous...

i don't have champagne, and i don't have any money. but i do have white wine and club soda...

watch out, ya'll, it's about to get mad classy up in this piece.

the $426 ceasar salad.

also known as the worst fucking way to spend $426 ever.


ingredients:

1 drunk ass roommate
1 nasty ass 7-11 caesar salad
1 chihuahua who would eat itself to death given the chance
1 day off not spent at home. (the first day off in recent memory)

instructions:

1. preheat house to 100 degrees.

2. have drunken roommate buy some shitty food for himself in the middle of the night.

3. drunken roommate should pass out in bed in the middle of eating the gas station food. Allow most of it to fall to the floor.

4. make sure drunk ass roommate's door is not shut completely when he goes to work. important note: roommate must be too hung over to clean up food.

5. be completely oblivious to steps 1-4

6. take the day off and kick it by the pool with your girls. have champagne. think that all is right with the world.

7. come home at 10pm to a basketball shaped chihuahua. (chihuahua should be round enough to not be able to sit. poke with finger to see if done.)

8. rush chihuahua to the emergency vet. it is very important to be unaware of steps 1-4 or the $426 will not get spent.

9. wait in a panic in cold emergency office until 1:30 am while x-ray, blood tests, and various injections are given to chihuahua.

10. text all roommates to see if they fed anything to the chihuahua. be told no. (again, being told no is very important or end result could be ruined.)

11. have vet recommend inducing vomiting due to large, distended stomach visible in x-ray.

12. wait for chihuahua to vomit while pinched nerve in back goes off. avoid taking painkillers in vet's office or you may be referred to as that junky with the round chihuahua.

13. be told by the vet tech that your chihuahua is vomiting up piles of lettuce. think this is strange.

14. ten minutes later be told by vet tech that your chihuahua is vomiting up large chunks of unchewed, undigested chicken.

15. ten minutes later be asked by laughing her ass off vet tech if it is possible that your chihuahua was exposed to a large chicken ceasar salad because it is now vomiting up parmesan sprinkles.

16. pay $426 for three hours of emergency vet care.

finishing touch: go home and be told about steps 1-4 by drunk ass roommate, who says he wanted to say something earlier but was too much of a pussy.

serve at 2am with a glass of champagne, a xanax, and a sleeping mask.

i hate fergie

last night: weird sexless orgy dream about some childhood friends, my aunt and uncle, and some other choice individuals that don't belong anywhere near my bed.

first thing this morning, before coffee: depressing email concerning someone i love very much

next thing this morning, after coffee: reply to email and be sad concerning someone i love very much

ENTIRE FUCKING DAY: stress about money.

now: hating on the black eyed peas for ruining themselves with fergie.

also now: wondering if i'm paranoid for being scared of my United flight into La Guardia on september 11.

later: realize the black eyed peas sucked before fergie.

right after that: go to gym
alternate right after that: drink wine, eat xanax