Alex: I really have to try method number two out. Although the best thing to do is to just get every food from your cupboard, lay it all beside you, call a few friends and invite them over, roll a few fat ones, listen to loud ass music and enjoy life for the next few hours.
I can relate to that sunglasses thing however, even in the dark!

Here we are again: Back at that time of the year where the most useless holidays come, one right after another. Valentine's Day, St. Patrick's Day, Easter, Mother's Day... Blahhh... This is the time of the year where, in some cultures, it is acceptable to gorge on pork and dairy products, drink anything other than clear liquor, and generally act like a fat ass. Unclear. I have holiday commitments that will require me to make appearances at a record twelve parties these coming weeks. And then after that, I'll be on a strict cleanse until my family's annual trip to Turks and Caicos. Here are the Do's and Don'ts that I'll be abiding by to get me through what's sure to be an intense few months. I suggest you follow suit.

Do: Velvet, mohair, cashmere, leather, lace, fur.

Don't: Sequins, glitter, satin, or bejeweled anything.

Do: Boobs are back in a huge way. Just know this and dress accordingly.

Don't: You fucking dare drink eggnog. If you live in LA, that should be a problem, as I think everyone there is allergic. If you don't live in LA, I'm sory, but try to remembe that A.) the wrod "eggnog" is sick, and B.) Ingesting it is sure to cause early onset of cellulite.

Do: Drink water. Or vodka. Or gin, if you must. Or silver tequila, or white wine. Or just smoke weed and don't drink anything.

Do: Book a facial a week for every five cocktails you drink over this weekend. Your skin will thank you later.

Do: Make out with someone. With all the mistletoe around, you have no excuse not to, especially if your target guy is a cousin by marriage.

Don't: Drink and drive. There's nothing cops love more than busting a wasted person driving their Mercedes the wrong way on a one-way street. One word: Uber. It's the chicest. Plus, you won't risk killing anyone's holiday vibes with your drink driving funeral.

Don't: Fuck the DJ. They're better off as eye candy. Trust.

Do: Condoms. No matter who you fuck.

You're welcome.

Nichole

Edited by user 01 February 2013 07:05:08(UTC)  | Reason: Not specified

Ooc: there are no words for how much these entertain me. Keep it up,please.


Erich: born again anything is reason to keep moving.

Ooc: my favorite so far.

Erica: ew,creepy! Who asks that?

ooc:but its so genius.

erica:i'm doing splendid. of course,i miss my best pregasaurus,but i imagine it's easier on you. wot with no waves,no diesel smell,no lead paint...how's things been?

erica:i'd buy an album titled that,even if it wasnt yours. i miss and love you too,coleykins. i would love to visit,let me float that idea by my naty...oh! nina lives in the same building as you! i hear they have a dog.

Someone told me that I missed the Super Bowl today. I think it was my gay, seven year old cousin, Jedediah. His nanny brought him over to my apartment yesterday to pick up the birthday present I had waiting for him. I got him what he asked for: the Celine, 3-way clutch purse in black. He was trilled about the Celine, and was also pretty thrilled about Stephanie Fierce’s half-time show, which I guess took place during the Super Bowl, which I guess I missed? So I watched the clip on YouTube.

I know Our Lady Fierce has been under some pressure lately about not singing when she was supposed to be singing. My opinion/my prayer for this Sunday is simple: this lipsyncing drama is NBD.

So, she might not have been singing and I understand that she’s a singer, so we expect her to sing. Fine. But can we focus for just one forgiving moment on all the things that Stephanie did that day that we DIDN’T expect from her?

Did she have to choose the Rubin Singer designed leather motorcycle jacket that she looked impeccable in? No.

Was anyone disappointed by the leather bodysuit made with strips of real python and iguana? Nope.

Who was mad about the huge, Lorraine Schwartz emerald earrings? Actually, I was.

So no matter what happened during that weird sports show, let Stephanie breath. We only have a few celebrities that actually deserve to be famous, so waste your time crying about someone else, like, I don’t know, Michelle Green.

Amen.

You’re welcome.

Nichole

Nichole: I'm not sure how okay Sam would be with that... Ever... Plus, I'm already pregnant. You can just keep this one.

When I was eleven, there was this girl in my Hebrew school class named Raquel Something who stole my Gucci slip-on sneakers (I’m actually not Jewish, but at that age, I was really into Jewish boys, so my maid/nanny/bff, Mabinty, let me go. I guess she also let me buy Gucci sneakers). The point is Raquel stole my shoes and then WORE THEM TO MY HOUSE for an intimate Life Affirmation Party I was throwing for my dog after he had knee surgery. When I confronted her, she swore that they were hers, but I knew she was lying and so did everyone else, including Maximo, my recovering pug, who pissed on them as she was trying to leave. Recent events have excavated this annoying story from the annals of my personal histories with girls who are annoying. Today, I pray for Raquel.

You’re welcome.

Nichole

Edited by user 09 February 2013 09:36:53(UTC)  | Reason: Not specified