No need to be confused- I’m about to EXPLAIN. Above is a picture of the house I grew up in, well the latest version of it. If you’re a California native, you probably remember that little earthquake that shook us all up in 93′. The Stewart family woke up to their marble hallway blasted into what looked like a bunch of little cookie crumbs (Shouts to RICKY ROSAY/COKE BOYZ) and a sea of dead fish scattered through out the house, due to our in wall aquarium. Ya, exacty…like a early nineties R.kelly video. After this MINOR setup back, architect Herbert set out to build a house with a shower that resembled a glass blender and some great gossip for my sixth grade classmates. I mean, when everybody has shutters and Doritos and you have a glass roof and MRS GOOCHS VEGAN CHIPS (?), things become VERY complicated four your 12 year old self. Especially when everybody comes over for a sleepover and there is a MASSIVE thunder storm that left everybody panic stricken and you with a lot more questions to answer than you wanted. After that night I just left the sleepovers to Allison Dixon’s house by the airport. Where endless amounts of wonder bread and mayo were at your reach.
NOW- when I was 17, Herbert wanted to transition to the Beach, be in a not so Persian environment shall we say? Which is when newlyweds DEMI and ASHTON showed up. DEMI was hot off of that comeback and ASHTON was really tight with DIDDY for whatever reason. Low point for Diddy i’m sure? Before these two gems, a VERY VERY popular Leo D came through…and I?, I was sent off for a day of errands with my fat housekeeper MALLY who was from sweden. ONLY TO FIND A NOTE ON MY DOOR- “SORRY I MISSED YOU MORGAN, LOVE LEO”. If you think I even looked at the scum who claimed to be my parents for 13 years..you’re very wrong.
Now THE ISSUE IS- Every single piece of this home, and every single mother fucking japanese koi that needed to be specifically found for the pond, was a vision that was executed by my the person who tells me to stop talking “badly about my friends”. NOT BY DEMI AND LITTLE ASHTON, WHO MAY I ADD CAME FROM A TRACK HOME OFF BENEDICT CANYON (so we’ll just call on you when we need you to say something ash). Although Demi did minorly add on to the home, nothing that she has every done has been photographed.
AND when articles are being printed to this day and sent to my mad genius father, it’s truly disheartening. – There was no “joint effort” between herself and little Ashton from Cedar Rapids, Iowa. LET’S NOT KID OURSELVES. DEMI – I know things have been blurry for you post divorce, but don’t make me call a bitch out. We just want the credit where it’s due.
It’s 5:51 on Thursday, April 18th. (Posh spice turns 39 today) (Another Posh spice fun fact: I had a run in w with her last week, actually- false that would imply we said hello, which didn’t happen. She briefly got creeped out and made eye contact with me as I did not stop staring at her. What she did do was sit at the table next to me at Madeo. She had a green salad to start and steamed vegetables for her main, and then, then I was inspired.)
It’s been three days since returning home from the epic weekend that is known to us all as “Coachella”. First and foremost, I remember very few and far between details like the rest of you..but I was definitely a lot puffier on Sunday than on our arrival date of Thursday. And I have never been friendlier or more ready to dance with a stranger than on Saturday night, WHERE EVERYBODY WAS WELCOMED and a little scared to come any closer.
Since being home I have been a complete and utter mess. Snotting all over myself and repeatedly sneezing to where people are turning around to check what the fuck is happening behind them. I did have an overwhelming amount of mother/daughter time today as we ran all kinds of errands that included: NOT going to Barney’s and lunch. My personal highlight of the day was our pit stop at Earth bar for TWO wellness shots, in attempt to make myself feel somewhat up for my 24 hour vegas run tomorrow night- no, I have no idea why either. Not only does Susan not understand the meaning of a shot or the point of it needing to be taken all at once. This bitch casually takes a large sip of the cayenne pepper infused liquid, only to come un DOWN very shortly there after. Once consumed a very loud and foreign ANNOUNCEMENT was made in that accent of hers- that she is now “going to have hot flashes all day!” Which was when we needed to exit. The twink behind the register was very, very, confused. But she really did, like really. Like the whole way home was a menopausal mess telling me to just “wait” as if that is in any near future of mine. I now plan on spending the rest of the evening in bed drinking more water than I would like and not moving a muscle.
Hopefully I will return from vegas with all vital organs intact. Wish me Lots of luck!
Firstly, I just need to come clean about a few things. Number one: I actually was helpful to my mother and schlepped to COSTCO on her behalf. If that doesn’t qualify me to possibly skip out on a mother’s day card purchase, I don’t know what does. Not only did I make the trek to Washington Blvd- SOLO, I also felt comfortable enough to devour an entire serving of shrimp cocktail while roaming the aisles- AGAIN SOLO, by the brand KIRKLAND. Which i’m pretty sure, is only an acceptable if you’re buying cleaning solvent for your toilet…All and all it was a really relaxing experience that showed me I will be a needing a lot of help once any offspring of mine exits my vagina.
Number two point of this post- I am about to be a HOT 26 and still have the maturity level of an 11 year old, who is mad Jennifer bought the same sweater. Through out my years of progressing as a human, I have come to the realization that I am definitely certifiable and I really must come off as one judgemental bitch. I tend to attract people that mistake my neurotic tendencies of picking myself apart as me judging them for whatever they have or don’t have going on. NOTE TO ALL OF YOU “friends”- I really am that self absorbed, I am not paying attention to you! What you have or don’t have and frankly don’t give a fat shit either way. This horrible habit turns these impressionable friends of mine, into mini versions of me that all of a sudden have the same: personality, speech, jokes, likes and dislikes in food, shoes, music etc. The advice “Just be yourself” really is the most valid three little words you can follow, and to all of you who have managed to make your way to this post, it’s probably directed at you. So please, either mail me a check for the persona you’ve taken on or return back to your actual selves. We don’t all need to share the same version of something, always.