La vie peine moins par la démocratie et plus aspirant à l'aristocratie. La vie se tire au-dessus du désordre des masses. La vie besting le repos de votre propre manière : peut-être vous êtes une baronne des affaires, une princesse de bruit, peut-être

Vous juste donnez le grand cerveau.

Ainsi ceinture vous-même avec ceci l'or, jeweled la ceinture d'Oscar de la Renta. le satin de Soleil-roi soulève votre everywoman, batteur d'épouse (de maison) dans un état de reine, la délicatesse enchaîne la serrure en bas de votre confiance, et les tuiles de topaz poliraient gentil sur toi nu, comme vous jouez la courtisane dans votre couture.

Vraiment.

Votre garçon sera inspiré adorer la reine ce roi' E-D il

» Ceinture $540, Vivre.com d'Oscar de la Renta

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Le diable s'est dénommé un serpent pour tenter la veille pour manger de l'arbre de la connaissance.

Je glisse sur ceci double anneau de Boucheron de serpent moi-même et vont SIP de Starbucks de Los Angeles.

Quant à partager n'importe quoi sinfully delish avec un Adam-

Le Dick était un chat.

» Anneau $2.450, Vivre.com de Boucheron

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Vous êtes dur, mais aucun punk.

Vous fôlatrez « va te faire foutre » chaussures, mais ils acier-ne sont pas bottés avec la pointe du pied.

Vous êtes blanc pur dur, mais de votre disque' de SA.

Ainsi vous fôlatrez ceci Bracelet de ruelle de geai de Kenneth aux réunions de conseil, et à voir que les chaussures de votre directeur sont aussi courtes que sa prévoyance d'affaires, vous texting la croix de `la table :

« Dieu sauvent la reine. »

» Bracelet $95, Filet-un-Bagagiste de ruelle de geai de Kenneth

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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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I’ve never understood flower bouquets: they’re useless gifts that do nothing but passively pose pretty for short seconds before they wilt and die.

Like suburban housewives.

But an enameled orchid necklace? An orchid necklace is more shine and spine, it’s beautiful but hard, lasting past bad meetings with boys and worse dates with bosses, playing hard at work from nine to five and five to nine again, while still styling time to invest hours–and hours–in pleasure.

Like a boss motherfucker.

» Natural orchid necklace $38, Novica.com

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A little lover’s letter held tight in a tiny, golden envelop, its “I Love You” hugging near your heart, this Urban Outfitters Jewelry “I Love You” necklace is so saccharine.

I’m def gifting myself this love letter necklace.

It beats the porn I usually forward to myself.

And paired with a little Al Green on my iTunes–

I’m totally sexing myself tonight.

» Urban Outfitters Jewelry “I Love You” necklace $24, Urban Outfitters.com

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I skimmed this Oprah.com article about how to live twice as large, and I had an epiphany:

Oprah is twice the motherfucker I thought.

And I love her twice as much.

Thank you, Oprah. Not only do I know about charities I’ll never contribute to, and how to get Vicky Beckham’s $2,000 shoes that look like they cost $20 for $200, but now I realize life is double as short as you think, so your skirt ought to be twice as short.

And your heels twice as high as you think you can handle.

And your “Fuck you”s to catty kitties who hate on your attitude twice as hard.

Like your next dude’s dick.

» Steve Shein “Fuck” necklace $68, Testimo Boutique.com

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I splash my gaze on The Boy over the champagne fizz of his jacuzzi, watching him walk ’round his patio, backgrounded by a moving postcard view of Los Angeles’ coast. Spotlighted by the sunshine is his house with empty servants’ quarters 25% bigger than my shoe box home, is his groomed grass, is almost everything he’s earned–

Including the pool he’s cleaning.

I pull my topless top half out of the hot bubbly, so he can hear me when I ask, “What if we play out a pool boy porno?”

The Boy laughs, not looking up from the baby blue water he’s skimming. “So that’s what you’re thinking about, little fucker, while I work? That’s–”

“Pool boy,” I interrupt. “Pool boy, when are you coming into the jacuzzi?”

Under his surface seriousness I see a smile. “Soon, miss.”

“I’d prefer immediately, Pool Boy.” I slap wet the Italian tiles of his hot tub, with authoritative impatience. “Please strip, right now.”

“You know I prefer to pretend that I do you voluntarily, miss.”

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Just like those Pretty Women on Sunset Blvd., these goodies from ASOS are S-E-X on the cheap.

Only a little safer.

And likely less exciting for your boy.

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Most people don’t guess so right away, but I’m one square motherfucker, a real L7. Despite saying things that make people look at me like I speak French, I’ve never been drunk. I kept my D.A.R.E. promise excepting some social cigars and ____tinis at press parties when I was underage. I don’t understand fussing about first date S-E-X, though the thought of sexing someone I don’t respect makes me gag. And I’ll quicker blow a grand on stock than stock up on designer duds.

So I love this David McCaul ring. Its squared to the third power, but boss in bold gold, its intelligent design is true to itself, this David McCaul ring–

Would look perfect with nothing but some trashy lingerie.

» David McCaul ring, price upon request, DavidMcCaul.com 

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You could be a little star, cookie-cut into an indistinct blink that fast fades from the forefront, or you could be a diamond in the rough, fingerprint unique, unpolished and evolving, and unapologetically confident in your raw beauty.

You could also invest two grand in your career so that you can afford these 20-grand Diamond in the Rough earrings on your own, or you could buy breast implants and get a guy to gift you these Diamond in the Rough earrings now.

Fuck, tough call.

I mean, back to building my career…

Leave a comment if you know of a good plastic surgeon in L.A.

» Diamond in the Rough earrings $20,000, Vivre.com

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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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I dial The Boy and I get his voice mail: he must be jetting to his brief biz trip.

I sigh, fingering the studs in my ear, sliding the posts in and out, and say, low: “Good afternoon, The Boy, of The Boy, LLC. This is Satan calling, from Hell, Inc. I just want to confirm your appointment for eternity. If you have any questions, call me back at 1, 666, 666, 666, 0. We look forward to seeing you.”

It’s the little things we do for each other.

» Me&Ro earrings of skull studs with diamonds, $645 via Barney’s

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Most people are surprised when I tell them I’ve never snorted coke off a model’s stomach in Brazil, that I haven’t puffed pot, that I barely, rarely drink ____tinis. They don’t understand how I’ve kept my D.A.R.E. promise but say things in public that make people look at me like I speak French.

So when I considered generic Prozac — the essence of doctor-prescribed Fancy Pink Pills for Chicks™ — to kill my PMDD (short for “Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder,” short for motherfucking bad PMS that turns my Porsche ‘07 911 brain into an ‘89 Honda Civic), I questioned how the drug would do me.

But after months of capping six soy lattes with twenty Red Bulls without denting my mental fatigue, I cash in my prescription. I scan the tiny print Rite Aid provided: “Pills may lessen sexual desire,” — I laugh, I doubt it — “may cause anxiety, may cause suicidal thoughts, may cause depression. If you hear ringing in your ears and want to stab someone with your five-inch stiletto, call your physician.”

Fascinating.

I swallow a baby blue pill for breakfast. And I still feel tired after 2 p.m., after three trips to Starbucks, after a designer energy drink, I still–

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Most chicks dream about their wedding ring: its size, its shape, its clarity.

(Let’s hope it’s not smaller than you think, lovely.)

I’m scheming about the ring I’ll buy when I’ve made a certain amount of money, when I can finally marry myself. My right-hand ring will be 18K gold at least, it’ll be fingerprint-unique, it’ll be a bold bauble, perhaps shaped like the ruby-eyed cougar of David Webb’s ring.

Because the fucking lord knows what I’ll be called when I’m frolicking into my 50’s, Botoxed beautiful and boss and busting balls.

» David Webb ring $4,900 via Vivre.com

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