Affidi il vostro compatto di Chanel nel paese, luce di corsa al vostro partito di festa:

I vostri soldi, mente, macis, mobile ed immagine doppia dovuta al tergitamburo dei tre condoms nella a Frizione del Ted Rossi, un nastro di un argento avvolge.

Utilizzi lo specchio che il cuoio metallico triplice-si controlla spesso come gradite, senza chiunque che sa.

E voi che dov-sembrate caldi, ancora migliore del tizio state ballando con.

Così ditch lui e voi e Ted Rossi avete una punta rapida di divertimento da voi nella stanza da bagno.

» Frizione $325, Vivre.com del Ted Rossi

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La vita più di meno drudging con la democrazia ed aspirando al aristocracy. La vita sta tirandosi sopra il mess delle masse. La vita besting il resto nel vostro proprio senso: forse siete un baroness del commercio, una principessa dello schiocco, forse

Giusti date il cervello grande.

Così sash voi stessi con questo l'oro, jeweled la cinghia del Oscar de la Renta. il raso del Sole-re alza il vostro everywoman, il battitore della moglie (della casa) in un queenly dichiara, le catene di dainty bloccano giù la vostra riservatezza e le mattonelle del topaz luciderebbero piacevole su voi nudi, come giocate il courtesan nel vostro couture.

Realmente.

Il vostro ragazzo sarà ispirato adorare la regina quel re' E-D lui

» Cinghia $540, Vivre.com del Oscar de la Renta

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Migliori per essere un whore che una casalinga:

One’s all fair trade and freedom, and the other’s a leash in the form of a shared bank account.

One’s all love making and passion, and the other is baby breeding punctuated with a yawn.

One’s all fuck-you Brian Atwood shoes in mad red, and the other is I - haven’t - been - fucked - in - five - months terrycloth slippers stained with dull decaf drip from a chipped mug.

Shudder.

» Brian Atwood shoes $526, Net-a-Porter.com

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I hear my glossy iPhone make its old school ring, and I smile at the blocked number calling, and I answer: “What are you wearing, pool boy?”

“How excited are you about those toys you got in the mail?” asks The Boy.

I finger the blush-pink packaging from Booty Parlor, lying on my desk. “Not as excited as I was before I used them.”

“Already?” asks The Boy. “Did you light candles and have a glass of wine?”

“Of course,” I say. “But within five minutes I grabbed my tits. So then I slapped myself. I said, ‘Who the fuck do you think you are?’

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I’m lying in my dentist’s chair, and from my lofty vinyl seat Hollywood’s hills look like the rolling green of a miniature golf course–until my eyes slide wide shut to soft black, and my mouth opens to take in The Doctor’s hands. He numbs the bottom half of my face so it’s virtually paralyzed, while my mind frolics free.

I dream up a bow-shaped fanny pack that can fit an iPhone and keys and a book, maybe The Great American Novel I must birth, whose theme might be luck, same as my conversation with The Boy last night:

“I’m getting my gums done tomorrow,” I said. “My entire front lower mouth. So I’ll be living off soy lattes for a couple weeks, and no blow jobs for a few days.”

“I guess I’ll be busy for a few days,” said The Boy.

I echo his laughter with a giggle only interrupted by The Boy’s crackling voice:

“Fuck,” he said. “I want a streak of good luck.”

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This Givenchy shoe is how sex should style: playfully tough, smartly erotic, equal parts femme submission and masculine domination.

And like sex, this Givenchy shoe’s success lies in its details: an extra thick cover-up exaggerates a peep show of a peep toe, the tiny polished studs drip wet-like over a beautiful skin, and a sumptuous arch is inspired by something long and hard and–

Maybe I should stop watching porn between writing dirty love letters to you.

» Givenchy shoes $535, Barneys.com

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I’m in my second office–pick a Starbucks, any Starbucks–and post meeting I decide to wait out the storm of L.A. traffic, buoyed by another soy latte, on an island of a strip mall in, like, totally the Valley?

I float to the cashier. “I’ll have a sugar-free caramel, iced soy latte. Extra shot of gay.”

The cashier looks at me, polite. “Anything else?”

I survey the rows of pastries, against my will, and see the cookie I’ve been desert island-hungry for since my red tide rolled in days ago. “I’ll take a chocolate chip cookie, please.” He drops one into a bag, and the cookie’s little weighted noise sounds like the future echo of me hitting a bathroom scale. “I shouldn’t have one because I want to get crack whore-thin, but I’ll just throw up the cookie in the restroom later.”

His eyebrows raise into a question mark: his brows the curve, his pinched mouth the dot.

“Times like these we can’t waste a minute being unrealistic,” I say. “Also, I’m trying to get wireless internet in here for an S.O.S. back to L.A., but it’s a pain in my never-done-yoga-in-my-life ass. What am I doing wrong?”

“I can give you a brochure.” He reaches for a life jacket-yellow pamphlet that someone’s already tossed at me.

“It’s like you’re throwing me a brick as a life saver–not helpful,” I say. “Should I just throw my computer against the wall? Will that fix it?”

He finally cracks, a little smile. “Here’s your receipt.”

» Mesi Jilly shell ring $285, Vivre.com

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Birds of a feather flock together, while cool cats play alone.

I was once politely conversating (read: “boring chat supposed to be greased with cocktails at a party”), and someone asked me if I were an early bird.

“I’m the cat that eats the bird,” I replied.

And these Patrick Cox shoes would be the heels I’d sport while dining very fine.

Meow, motherfuckers.

» Patrick Cox shoes with feathers $399, Koodos.com

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What’s better than this Pade Vavre ring, with its mini galaxy of sapphires?

a. The Pade Vavre ring will make you feel fully dressed in your black lace and 24k-laced trashy lingerie.

b. The Pade Vavre ring’ll add a some punch when you punch your younger brother.

c. The Pade Vavre ring is $132 with promocode “xxxo”.

d. All of the motherfucking above.

I check d, and I’m also double-checking these other goodies you can get 25% off of:

• Goldenbleu bag in patent leather, that converts to a clutch. Was $865. For you? For you I give $649.
• Kenneth Jay Lane ring, a boss black flower. Metaphor for the soul I sold to Satan? Perhaps. $64? Certainly.
• CC Skye bracelet in white python, from $176 to $132. Make NickyLindsay Richie Lohan jealous.

» Get 25% all full-priced jewelry and accessories at Max & Chloe, with promocode “xxxo”*

* Promotion ends November 1, 2007.

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I pat on porcelain powder, brighten eyes with smudges of black, crimp and coat my lashes–thrice–, gloss my lips nude, smooth my bangs with a second blow (dry) job, dab on Chanel’s liquid gold, survey my closet and decide a blue wool tank is now a dress, then strap on red light-district suede, peepshow peep toes. And I always skip a bra–

I realized years ago it saved some time.

Sometimes the Kristopher in me hates the prissy Krissy I doll up daily as, but grooming gorgeous is only one more thing you should always do right: looking your best opens wider a window–and maybe your legs–to opportunity, it polishes your pride, it–

Makes you late to a last minute doctor’s appointment. I speed to Beverly Hills, screech into a parking space, and stroll to the office. I loop signatures on paperwork probably okaying selling my kidneys in Tijuana, and finally meet a mediocre M.D.

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I often joke I dress like an expensive hooker: the airbrushed black eye shadow, the four-inch (at least) heels, a triple-tiered, peacock-print silk dress I slip on as other girls wear their fav T.

But it’s just jest–

At least the “expensive” part.

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Most people’s “when I make it” includes a car they’ll accessorize with leather interiors that clean nice after pricey blow jobs, but I’d rather own Porsche sunglasses–Carrera-style–and a driver, than a Carrera.

Till Alfred’s chauffeuring me to strip clubs, I’ll be in fifth gear in five-inch heels and these Porsche sunglasses, sipping a hellish hot soy latte, double-checking appointments on a smart phone smarter than I, I–

Figure I can blame an accident on being a ¼ Asian Cracker Jap.

» Porsche “Carrera” sunglasses, $375, Refinery29Shops.com

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“So how much do you want me to lick you when you’re back in town?” My fingers tickle my keyboard, and I giggle as I press SEND.

“Almost as much as I want you to fix the dent you made in my truck,” flashes in reply on my MacBook’s screen, a message much too instant from my boy, The Boy.

“Triple exciting,” I pound back, so hard the strap on my black sheer cami slips off, floating over lacy boy-cut panties.

My home office dress code is business casual.

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A clever sliver of silver, this Kotur clutch is so simple it’s brilliant, so ruthlessly minimalist it’s rich, this boss Kotur clutch is a metaphor of how I plan to live my life.

Relatedly, the Kotur clutch looks like a designer dildo.

» Kotur Clutch $348, Vivre.com

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With a new season falling in, I like to strip my life down to its best: people who make me the most profit, work that inspires the most pleasure; I whittle away my life to things with a most ambitious arch–

Like Pretty Woman, patent Pedro Garcia boots. Ruthlessly clean in design, just a bare bootie that’s glossy boss, these Pedro Garcia boots are a reminder of what life should be:

Simple, smart, and–

Oozing S-E-X.

» Pedro Garcia booties $440, Net-a-Porter

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