(hi to my 9 real life friends, my 90 instagram friends, a handful of people who need to intend to make 2022 the year they find a hobby besides relentlessly keeping tabs on me, my ex bf who was the subject of the previous blog checking to see if i’m going to post the batshit text he sent me (i’m not; i showed it to God and he’ll take it up with you in 30-40 years), and my ghost’s therapist. this is my christmas wishlist; if you just want gift ideas, scroll to the bottom for this year’s treasures:)

i’m finally ready to break my silence following a solemn year and a half of mourning.

for those of you familiar with my monomania, i am of course referring to the disintegration of the union between my two most beloved chain smoking wisps, mary kate and olivier sarkozy, last may. for those of you just tuning in, start here.

these two have been my romantic north star since i became aware of their relationship in 2013. they are the only false idols i’ve ever worshipped, and i did so trenchantly at an altar fashioned from an ashtray.

unfortunately, 8 weeks into lockdown, these cognizant shadows succumbed to divorce, the covid of marriage.

when this news first hit TMZ i of course had no idea because i am not gossip reading trash, but when my gossip reading trash boyfriend shared the link i was heartbroken.

the news shook all of us within the automaton community.

if north america’s foremost contestants on “so you think you’re getting away with pretending to be human” - the reality game show that plays on loop in my head - could not survive a global pandemic, who among us could?!

some people were prepared for the pandemic because they’d been following the effects of the virus in europe, or they’d seen purell fly off the shelves in early march. as for me? i knew two months later when these XL and XS pillars of love threw their hands up and said “assez!” (that’s “enough” in french).

like that groundhog seeing its shadow, this was my indication that the pandemic was far from over.

with the threat of lung disease looming from outside the confines of a cigarette, and with global reach, mary kate and husband were forced to abdicate their role as spokescouple for Big Cigarette and separate, so as to focus on their individual roles creating new, more powerful variants of covid.

i guess i didn’t expect they would ever deign to lower themselves to the quarantine activities of the 99%, but divorcing in my personal greatest time of need was very rude.

(i know these people about as well as i know my own divorced parents, so this doesn’t feel weird.)

mary kate olsen and olivier sarkozy survived brexit, the death of noted recluse harper lee, almost the entire trump presidency, a banksy thirst trap, the fall of brangelina, the college admissions scandal, olivier’s hating ass ex wife, the advent of clubhouse; they stayed out of the press, they minded their own business, they were never cancelled… they had it all!

i really thought they’d stay together forever, but as a devout worshipper, i must pass on the gospel: marriage is the virus; divorce is king.

*

we may never know what happened to olivier, the live action pac man, and mary kate, his little pac-man food.*

what we do know, however, is money can’t buy you whatever the recipe is for staying married - which i suspect is love, lack of a prenup, kids, and a man with no instagram - money can only buy you cigarettes, lawyers you refer to as ‘attorneys’, the silence of your enemies, and the friendship of those who wish to remain on your holiday party guest list.

*(in lieu of condolences, please send prayers that their legacy will live on when i become little pac-man food to my huge pac-man husband.)

OK. HERE IS MY 2021 HOLIDAY GIFT WISHLIST. MONEY CAN BUY YOU SHIT FROM HERE, TOO!!

1. in my continued, everlasting spirit of altruism, please consider making a donation to the boys and girls club or (if you’re reading this before friday the 17th) ordering a gift from their holiday wishlist.

2. shoes for hiking. size 38

3. this jewelry or this jewelry

4. crypto… wallet address available upon request. serious inquiries only.

5. a private session with the hollywood medium tyler henry. i’m not putting a link bc you have to know someone, i feel… let’s hope someone of importance is reading this!!!

6. beach towel, even though i don’t go to the beach expensive - i love this. it is an insane product. inexpensive; also inexpensive another expensive one, in bright green

7. these travel containers which i was going to buy for myself but then i saw the reviews that said they were kind of heavy… so i’d rather receive them as a gift in case i hate them.

8. this tray, exclusively created for eating charcuterie in bed a slightly less expensive take

9. a lighter, though i do not smoke. consider it an homage. (i rly love this and will find a use for it. i can light some scripts i’ve written on fire.)

10. this throw blanket, also i love this website so much or this throw blanket; their website is fine, nothing to write home about another throw

11. this bag that i keep asking for and keep not getting

12. some reasonably priced furniture

13. a reading with astrofashionista — also… not an ad, but this is a great gift idea for anyone you know and love!!

14. wow. i should really sell ad space here. ugh.

15. this dress - size 34 this coat i very much need in an xs dress - size 0 another coat i am gagging for - xxs

16. this absolutely stunning, inspired piece of art this art this art this art big art wishes this year this art these arts are all sold out :( but let me put you on SO YOU KNOW

16. new candle alert extremely inexpensive dupe for a old favorite that will not be named here bc it’s impossible to find but if you buy this and smell it and also know of the other one well then good for you

17. this thing to dangle from your ears

18. why… would anyone… need… this

19. an anatomically correct and appropriately priced heart

20. a the real real or erewhon gift card for $10,000 thank you

21. this ridiculous thing

22. i’m running out of steam but i’d really love for my birthday next year for someone to rent out the studio where they film floor is lava so i can do it…

thank you!!!

this is a love letter to the purest love i’ve ever known.

“i should like to go with you -- nowhere. it would be rather wandering just to nowhere. thats the place to get to—nowhere. one wants to wander away from the world somewheres, into our own nowhere.”* (women in love)

*wander to this blog about nowhere. also, here is a link to my canon of work on these iconic darling dreamboats.

whenever i think i’ve run out of ways to count the ways in which i love mary kate olsen and olivier sarkosy, i am reminded that the universe is abundant and i will never be at a loss to describe the most sacred union to have ever been deemed sacred by the act of consecration at an undisclosed private residence on east 49th street where they were married, among their cigarettes and expensive friends.

we are not worthy to lay our eyes upon this fusion of wealth, nicotine and languid passion… but let us sin for a moment, shall we?

there’s a phrase “money talks, wealth whispers”, and in addition to introducing it as a way to softly let you know the kinds of disgusting, elitist platitudes i have in my lexicon, i’m mentioning it because i want to use its grammatical structure to riff off of:

(although, to be fair, this old chestnut does also apply to these opulent oligarchs (ish; adjacent) without modification. money talks (see: someone who buys bottles at a club), wealth whispers (see: mary kate and olivier who skip the club altogether in favor of eating *whatever the fuck* while wearing rags.))

love talks, TRUE love (this love here) silences itself with cigarettes and making out so it can focus on cultivating the deepest love known to human kind, aliens, poets and cardiologists.

like, look how quiet their love is. this image came up when i searched for them and it took me almost a minute to even process that they are IN this photo.

back left. (not the attention desperate two front right. SEE YA LATER.)

look at these little moles!!! these sneaky ass, little groundhogs.

love projects itself over the internet in a garish display of falsified emotion. TRUE love removes itself from the public gaze, somehow, despite its immediate presence in the gaze of said public.

REMOVES. entirely. seriously. you erase yourself from public documentation. that’s how you exercise your force as a couple. that’s how you shove your wealth of adoration for each other down the throats of everyone in your nuclear and extended life. you disappear.

i bet these live action adults don’t even deign to partake in the census.

my google alerts for them lay so dormant i often find myself checking to make sure they’re still set up... the way i’d check my blackberry’s vitals in 2009 to see if this guy ken who was a bartender (lol i did a typo here and it changed “bartender” to “partner” and i laughed when i deleted it to write “bartender” because it made me feel like i was getting one over on this guy. this guy from 10 years ago, from when i was an underage club bop — let me stop) at the famed #thebox had texted me.

(he NEVER had!!!!!! also. that is his real name. please hit me up if you’re reading this, i would love to catch up and hear about all those weekend trips you’d mysteriously take every single weekend when i’d be like “let’s hang this weekend?”)

mary kate and olivier are floating caspers, devious beetlejuices… *google search “famous ghosts”, find one you relate to + add adjective to round this out for me*

when i dare ask google, “google, are there more images of these human crack bags?” google responds, “no.” and even though google - like the instagram of the *cool, fun, 10k followers away from a fitness tea or teeth whitening system #spon deal* girl you stumbled upon after vigilantly checking your (ex) boyfriend’s liking activity - is never misleading, i check anyway.

and i confirm this for myself as i reach the end of the archives. as i exhaust the results. I REACH THE END. of a google image search. of a wildly famous child actor cum designer of multiple fashion brands and a tall, rich banking man who is the relative of a former french president. mangnifique. they’re walking nostalgia.

once, a man i should not have let love me and vice versa… - well...

they all were (…men i shouldn’t have let love me).

anyway, this one in particular told me he was breaking up with me because he “wanted to be anonymous”. lol! i scoffed at that of course and not just because i wanted to be like, “you’re anonymous as fuck, my dude” (which i said; because he was; he remains.) but also because i was like… what? what a crazy gross thing to want to be. to aspire to be the whites of my eyes after rolling them at that comment.

but wow. was i wrong.

love exposes itself for others to gawk at, TRUE love consumes itself. true love says, “i want you to contain me in physicality and not in the vulgar sexual way”.

TRUE love swallows itself, disappearing, completely unconcerned with you in any way. TRUE love, real, lasting love, slinks around the world in a hearse, hidden from the prying eyes of fans and enemies alike because true love doesn’t need your approval... or marked indifference. these fucking lilting daffodils read each other like motherfucking braille.

LOVE IS LOVE… per macklemore and LGBTQ ads everywhere. but true love is right here. hiding somewhere behind someone of higher value domestically (at a box office, for example) but where it matters (in love or the billion dollar net worth arena) stratospherically inferior. see, look. here they are behind the man jack nicholson, star of things and etc…

love is love, true love is a phenomenon.

these are injunctions not opinions. this is the truth. this is how love works. i’m sorry if i had to break it to you.

i read somewhere that olivier’s ex wife said his relationship with mary kate was “disgusting”. oh. really? what’s disgusting? finding the man of your dreams in an AARP magazine? having a girlfriend so adorable and young, the person who took this photo might not have known that only one female present is biologically related to you?

i’m sorry that that’s disgusting to you, charlotte. broaden your scope of reasoning. widen your understanding of love. of dreams. further try to understand the vocabulary that you are carelessly throwing around the way olivier throws mk around when they’re watching a live stream of … “the markets” and the nasdaq is down and he desperately needs to change the channel for his blood pressure but cannot find the remote and because of his inherent french rage he ends up throwing mk across the room because he mistakes her for a doll.

what’s disgusting, lottie?

the pure joy on the faces of these two sacks of heroin? they’re literally effervescent, merely acknowledging that they are both "alive” and able to smoke another hundred thousand cigarettes together.

DEFINE DISGUSTING!!!!!!!!!!!!

ok. thank you.

in closing. i just want to take a minute to elucidate the extent to which olivier sarkosy - a man i do not know - has no idea what “social media” is. like, i feel like mary kate once might have tried to explain it to him and he waved it off like you’d wave off someone offering you a sample of some food related item when you’re in a supermarket shopping with a v specific list of food items and not a moment to spare (and also maybe you have some pesky food allergies).

“how silly,” he probably said. and then puffed an accordion of marlboro reds, looked around at the circle of people in his captive audience (only his wife, mary kate olsen), and said, “the night is young… and so is mary kate” before devouring her pre dinner.