Here is a widely unknown fact about me--I was raised as a kept woman. I have never really paid my own bills, I have never had to pay for an apartment or a place to live and if I have a job is not really that big of a deal as long as I am not going out and dropping loads of money on shit I never needed in the first place. God, I am little Miss Muffet & my life is a tuffet. Now the tuffet is on fire and the children are all running away, or something. That sounds nursery rhyme enough for me at least.
So the drama starts and I am like I GUESS I WILL JUST DRINK UNTIL I DIE OR MOVE AWAY, CAN ANYONE UNDERSTAND THAT. And now I have made my drinking the leading cause of why I should leave Los Angeles & not the fact that I just want to leave. What makes it even better is the fact that somehow this has reignited the fact that maybe I should seek help in the form of REHAB. HILARITY.
Sadly, I am going to leave here anyways and if I end up hating New York I'll go somewhere else. Then somewhere else. Then somewhere else. Even if I fucking love the weather here I hate basically everything else. Once I am gone I bet I am going to glorify this stupid city in print. Los Angeles should be thanking me ahead of time.
2 comments:
yes when you move from the city you love, it is the bestest most fabulous city in the world. I am going to get the GPS coords of my hometown tattooed on my thigh, ala Angelina Jolie without all the kids.
Rehab? Wow, that is a biggie and a goodie.
Have I told you you look fantastic? You really do!
what's a tuffet
it's true it happens to everyone, you're gonna obnoxiously yell about everything (los angeles) and you're not gonna like to listen to yourself do it but you will do it again and again.
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