This is a message to that loose cannon and any other loose cannon out there: Don’t let your interior be as ugly and pointless as your exterior and for your information, Molly McAleer has never needed anyone but Molly McAleer.
Basically what you need to know about these expensive lifestyle hotels is they’re filled with absolutely positively insane people. Delusional and sun fried, they come wafting through the lobbies looking like they’ve downed four horse tranquilizers. I wish I could say this wasn’t true and that I’ve interacted with some nice normal people but that would be a kinda sorta lie.
Everyone wants to be a celebrity, especially if you live in New York or Los Angeles. You may not have millions but if you have an apartment below 96th street in Manhattan, you’re halfway to acting like you’re rich. First, tell everyone you know about how great it is living in Manhattan and how you “barely use the subway” because you can walk everywhere. This is key – especially when you’re with people who live in Brooklyn and Queens.
As if traffic officers weren’t already considered to be on the lower end of the police food chain, a couple of LA cops have made things worse for everyone. The Los Angeles Department of Transportation is coming under fire for an Internet video in which two uniformed officers are shown in public with a female porn star.
A reader at Jezebel sent in a feminist “editorial” that was penned by none other than her ten-year-old daughter (You know she was raised in a household that banned the viewings of Disney movies). The daughter was reportedly inspired after reading miniboden, a children’s catalog that apparently could learn a thing or two about gender roles.
After spending two hours at my house behaving like a zombie, my mother fell backwards into my walk-in closet. The doors had come down and she had hit her head on the floor. It was one of the worst experiences of my life. I’ve never written about it before and it feels strange doing so now, but it’s important because that day was what made her go to rehab.
I have come to the conclusion that I can no longer fuck with hallucinogenic mushrooms. It’s taken five trips, four of which could only be described as a sneak peek of the afterlife destination most commonly referred to as hell, to decide this.
When Andrea Zuckerman enrolled as a sophomore at West Beverly High, she had to be vigilant in protecting her true identity as an undercover reporter for the Los Angeles Times. She originally was there on assignment for a story concerning the vacuous lives of rich youth. However, after befriending Brandon Walsh and the gang, Andrea felt a sense of belonging that had been previously missing in her life.
Start hanging out with major celebrities. Help Chloe Sevigny get over a major breakup. Tweet something like “Love my slice of Chloe. Feel better, babe!” Give Sean Lennon a handjob and hear him talk about post-modernism for five hours.
Wonder why no one talks about the emotional ramifications from being sick, how a few days inside your apartment with nothing but time on your hands can lead to some dark thinking. Feel surprised by the immense sadness you felt while sipping your smoothie and watching Judge Judy alone in your bed, and be unable to recall the last time you ever felt that lonely and scared.