#invidious consumption

as always, hello to my 9 true real life friends, some of my 22 (instagram) “close friends”, my 40 internet besties, the handful of you i was able to lure over here with a LiNk iN BiO, the growing number of [redacted] who are unnervingly conspicuous with their surveillance, maybe some other weirdos and haters!, at least 2 of my exes, my therapist if i ask her to read this to understand me better, my daughter in 14-18 years, and anyone else who is here and can read this!!

as a preface to a list of extravagant treasures i wish to receive this holiday season, i am going to tell you a little story. if you don’t care and just want to buy me a gift or just want to use this to curate yours, scroll to the bottom. there are words and jokes down there too if you’re here for all of it!!! (if you need inspiration from years past, i’ve been making this list for 10 years.)

the only times i feel safe are when i am at home, or when i am 5000 miles away from it. anything in between causes absolute chaos within my emotional microbiome.

in america, i am a sentient eggshell and all external stimuli are hammers. outside of america, i am an invincible-cartoon-fireball capable of any and all things through the EU.

once a week i volunteer, and once a month i drive 40-90 miles in one of the four directions to buy a lotto ticket at a random authorized lotto retailer (surprisingly not sponsored), and that’s it.

when i’m home, i do the same thing every day -  i wake up, i go to cult (this is what i call meditation because i’ve been doing it consistently for a year and i have no idea why), i write down everything i’m grateful for*, and i read (a literal book) for 20 minutes before performing my morning ablutions and walking downstairs to drink poison (espresso) and sit in my office tip tapping my ipad for 6-8 hours. then i watch some of the worst television you can ever imagine until it’s time to go to sleep, at which point i do a cult bonus track - it’s called “three good things”, and it’s exactly as the name implies - eat two peppermint patties v slowly, and go to sleep with my television blasting and every light on.

~ (*ok sorry for being sincere for a moment but i need to genuinely recommend the gratitude journal practice because it changed my life. thank you for only engaging with this if it aligns positively with you and excluding it from your personal dossier of me if it doesn’t. anyway, i also love cult because it allows me 30 minutes of controlled focus on every thought i have ever had in my entire life without even a single moment of peace. my inner monologue is a thought-orgy and i am merely a captive and reluctant eavesdropper.) ~

when i’m on vacation, i am a different character from white lotus every day.

this year for my birthday, i chartered a yacht off the amalfi coast (cameron) and sat on it alone for 3 days (ethan). on the 4th day, danielle arrived and we confused the crew by being on vacation together in italy but not fucking. (daphne/harper)

on the 5th day, danielle found out i don’t like music (you’ll need this information later), and on the 6th day, God created man, and one of them asked us if we’d like a massage.

being of sound mind, my first thought was to question this person (employed as a deckhand) on his ability to massage.

he assured us both that he and his fellow deckhand could “of course” massage!

having seen every episode of every franchise of below deck i was wary but i trust men intrinsically (tanya) and i love nothing more than to be consensually touched (dominic) so i said great, we’ll take two! and we settled on “in ten minutes” for the time.

he returned moments later to lead us in a troubling talk on massage logistics - namely, where the massages would take place and on what apparatus.

you, like we, may be thinking: what about a massage table on the sun deck? and that’s a great thought. however, there were no massage tables, so our two deckhand-cum-massage therapists decided they’d conduct the massages they assured us they were equipped to conduct on twin beds in one of the downstairs bedrooms.

10 minutes later we arrived to a room large enough to accommodate two adults lying down, or a small child standing up but being v still:

danielle and i pretended this was not weird (mia/lucia), and as soon as our four adult bodies were within the same energy field we all signed a spiritual contract to never speak about this again! unfortunately danielle and i signed in watercolor and have spoken about it ad nauseam every day since.

one of the guys asked what music he should put on, but before he finished the question, danielle had interrupted him in an octave i’ve never heard her voice go to utter the words “MERCEDES DOESN’T LIKE MUSIC.” … effectively solidifying our fate to have the weirdest experience of our lives in deafening silence!

without leaving the room, they told us to lie down - which we did - and they each returned to our respective sides to *SIT ON THE BED* and massage us with this australian jerk off oil while our faces were mushed sideways into a twin bed for a staggering and completely arbitrary 101 minutes.

the only time ive ever had a massage this unmethodical is every time my boyfriend wants to have sex, and the only reason this one ended was because someone came in to chastise them for being *below deck* for so long… at which point they both got up and left without saying a word!!

anyway ~ that’s how i met your mother ~ (sorry i’ve taken this out and put it back in 8 times. it stays!)

danielle and i are two asexual freaks so this (our villain origin story) never registered to us as a potentially sexual thing, but it has to a lot of people we’ve told! … and to those people i say: interesting. please consider my trauma when selecting a gift from the below list to send to me 😈 thank you!

THE LIST (disclaimer: all i want for my birthday is for everyone i love to be healthy, happy, rich and divinely protected (so far so good tbh!!!!), and for you to donate to the boys and girls club if you have the means. this is merely a list of things i think would be funny or nice or silly to receive:)

the intangible: to pass a law abolishing all waters i don’t like - there are too many to name, but at the very least let’s start with dasani, aquafina, and nestle purelife, for someone to defund Revolve and redirect the money to fund research to corroborate my theory that people who wear clothes that say “spiritual gangster” lack a functioning frontal lobe and should not have rights, for everyone who doesn’t like me to continue doing that because that must be very taxing, for prison reform that allows “love after lockup” to expand it’s filming schedule, for mary kate and olivier to reconcile (please click that link if you’re new here), for jeff bezos to give me a little something in his will, to be paid for all the vacations i’m going to go on in the future and that they never involve a massage on a twin bed.

the ones you can buy: * these gorgeous little poison cups to elevate morning beverages content. also gorgeous!! these are interesting! * i’m looking to redo my whole personality in the vein of someone’s really religious auntie. it starts in the dining room, here. for more in the collection, may i direct you here. *a stunning throw: in pink!!! or this cheaper (v reasonably priced, tbh!) one, the blush pink not that crazy pink in the larger size! * this thing for my desk. i would accept this but don’t really like the branding. * a 5 night stay at this hotel (a suite or above)

* a black birkin with gold hardware in 25 or 35. no links, iykyk * this coat in grey or camel. xs! * buy danielle’s book. (this story is not in it, but better ones are) * this tray to eat chips and peppatties in bed. this will likely be sold out but here. * i don’t want these but definitely want to make you aware gucci are selling incense for one hundred dollars, and perhaps we should collectively look into deplatforming them.

* a pair of solid gold 3 inch hoops. i have no links :( * i’d like to speak to the medium who has a show on bravo, please. this is him. i do not want to be “read” on the tv show. i do not want tickets to see his live show. i want to speak to a dead person through this man. one on one. (you can come if you organize it.) * these slippers. size 8. * this bracelet and bonus if you have a platinum amex, you get $50 back or something for shopping at saks! love to pay it forward!! * this jug of perfume for a room! * this jug for water at varying temperatures. matte black.

* this art, this art, this art, this art, or this art. i’m going to buy this for myself but i love this artist, so i’m sharing. * this alluring bookend that is on sale (x2)! * i don’t need this but i like the way it looks and so i’m passing it on. it’s a weight but who exercises at home… so it’s a hat for your floor. * trying this again: for someone to create a “the floor is lava” set for my birthday where i can do “the floor is lava” SEPARATELY with each of my 9 friends - none of whom know each other, which is intentional and by design. * these shoes. size 8 * these earrings. i tried to buy these on black friday but then i forgot. i may just buy them myself. who knows!

* a real two hour massage * caviar * i like her bc i think we have the same body * these french almond praline sugar things from provence that i bought at duty free and i’ll never find again. and i went on this website and tried to email them to ask them to send them to me (it appears they cannot do that) and i really don’t want to get into it but i spent hours trying to secure them bc they’re that good so i guess this is not an item it’s just a pass on should you ever be in provence or at an airport in france. * a $24,000 tribute to the mascot for Word.

some passing it forward gifts (things i don’t need (because i own them most likely) but they are nice!!) * these cute, non threatening pajamas * my favorite luxe, somewhat threatening pajamas * the only sheets i allow on my bed and body are pratesi but danielle bought me monogrammed pillowcases (super, binx) from here and !!!! * i think i always recommend diptyque candles but we are also a cade (you have to ask for this, they don’t keep them out 😗) household now and newly a boysmells household. * skincare is kind of a lame gift bc everyone’s skin is so different but i have the most reactive skin in the world so i’d like to pass along three of the only things that don’t ruin my life: this (i’ve been using for 3 weeks) is soooo nice, as is this which i’ve been using on and off for a month but the price point was set by the us national debt clock or something. (their instagram clickbait lip balm thing is a waste of money and yes i wasted my money!) also i love this and have used since it launched :)

ok ty for reading come again bye!

thank you for coming to read my diary which masquerades as a blog but is actually just a vessel for disseminating my birthday wishlists. it’s like an event you show up to where the host tries to sell you a timeshare 25 minutes after some requisite, mindless song and dance.

welcome! if you’d like purchase a timeshare, scroll to the bottom. for the song and dance, look no further:

the other day i zoned out on zoom therapy and when my therapist asked where i “went” i had to lie because i had gone to the part of my brain that holds all the things i need to think about forever for no reason (i call it the petty cache — this is an umbrella term for the space that also houses my attitude cabinet) and dusted off a memory of a comment i saw on a stranger’s facebook three weeks ago that said “message me. i lost my password and i have good news to share”.

i don’t know either person, and that’s what i was thinking about. i spend $[redacted] a month on therapy and instead of focusing on one of my numerous unsolved mysteries, i was thinking about the nuances of this comment - like why they wouldn’t just share the news or message the person directly? or what losing their password had to do with anything? or why they would comment on facebook instead of texting or calling the person. did they not have their number? imagine not knowing someone well enough to have their phone number, but still wanting to share your good news with them!

all i want (for my birthday) is to know what the news is that this stranger has to share, and i’ll never know so i have to put that comment in my minutiae repository with all the other things that will plague me until i die from texting and driving, smoke inhalation as a result of purposely leaving a candle lit in my home overnight almost every night, consuming half a dozen hot dogs a week, or a now unnamed disease that will posthumously be attributed to my chronic inability to mind my own business.

i’m constantly concerning myself with things that are none of my concern - no matter how insignificant - because my brain is a commune of sentient pepperoni running instagram polls among themselves to discern if something is worth spending an inordinate amount of time thinking about. and guess what? it turns out absolutely everything that has ever offended, confused, bothered, intrigued, slightly inconvenienced, or merely happened to me is worth spending an inordinate amount of time thinking about.

because i devote so much energy to nonsense, i can often be found persecuting strangers for insulting me on the internet (and for other miscellaneous bad behavior). the information superhighway is my home so i have to protect myself (and my friends) here, and if that means spending 45 minutes to 48 hours trying to find every misstep you’ve made in your life until i have enough ammunition to spray a dozen simulated retaliatory bullets at your virtual head because you called me a “stupid bitch” on instagram, well… so be it!

i am relentless in my pursuit of wasting time, so if that doesn’t work, i will find the cold stone creamery you frequent, seek employment there, be hired on the spot, learn the craft, be promoted to manager, poison you on your birthday, gain access to your funeral, and tarnish your reputation by reading your shitty DM in front of the few family and friends whom i haven’t already made aware of the abhorrent way you conducted yourself online!

there are so many different ways strangers will try to hurt your feelings — an interesting genre of which come from men who (like me) have definitely never had sex before, and mistakenly think i care about the ways in which my body does not make them horny.

“no tits” one will say. and i’m like, how do you want me to respond to that? my boobs are indeed small, yes. did you come here to shoot facts back and forth all day? ok: you’re going to start balding way sooner than you’re prepared for, i bet your childhood dog is dead, your time on the internet should be supervised, your closet is full of vests, and you wait on line at nightclubs… good day?!

while i will obviously engage with anyone if they want to fight, i prefer when the unsolicited criticism is personalized, and not just thoughtless, lazily devised tripe.

a year and a half ago, a man who looked like he exhales smog DMed me to let me know - among other things in a paragraph long rant - he’d “lost brain cells” watching my story. knowing he had likely never had an adequate amount to begin with, it seemed like an emergency, so i started a group DM with his wife. because his message had come just three days after a “fuckkk [heart eye emoji]” response to a photo of my ass, i included a screenshot as evidence of his devolving mental state.

being - presumably - gainfully employed, neither of them responded.

luckily, the consolation prize for insulting me is that you gain residency in my brain and stay in my thoughts and prayers for all eternity, so i checked in on them a few days ago. they’d unfollowed and wiped their feeds clean of each other!!

because i’ve never “moved on” in my entire life, i fired up our long dormant group chat, and sent my condolences: “aw. sorry your trip to positano - where you were going to attempt to repair your ramshackle marriage - got cancelled because of covid and so you just got divorced instead :(” i wrote before being blocked by both of them. 

then i headed right over to my therapist’s facebook and commented “message me. i lost my password and i have good news to share”

i spent an entire therapy session detailing this monomania before my therapist thoughtfully suggested i “pick [my] battles”.

to which i thoughtfully responded: yeah, babe. i pick every single one.

                                                        ***

timeshare time! it’s the same list as this post, with a few additions (at top) (and edits based on availability).

places to donate food education fund pretty brown girl the okra project

some furniture stuff a side table  a pointless, laughably tiny little thing this website is calling a “drink table” a lamp one of these benches i do not want this but it’s important to me that at least 2 other people know it exists

this plant that obviously does not need to cost $165 but idk how to shop economically

air pods

gifts from the previous post - all still v much in play!

a pair of shoes (size 8 or 38) one pair, another pair, yet another, these are on sale, these are not, and a final pair

a specific clutch with three color choices they allege this color is called sand but it looks white to me, pink, green for those who do not know what malachite means (it couldn’t be me. i learned it 3 hours ago when i began compiling this cursed list)

something everyone with money to waste needs this

dresses i’ll never be able to wear until there’s a vaccine because unlike someone tacky who knows me, i won’t be having a birthday party in the middle of a global pandemic (hi, you fool) white polka dot, not white polka dot, also not polka dot, a red dress, a skirt (aka half a dress), a black dress

this sweatsuit xs in this, small in this

is sephora cancelled? i want this hair dryer which i’m sure you can buy elsewhere if sephora is cancelled, which it v well may be

this item which you may think is cheap but actually it’s not soooo a hairpin

earrings one pair, another pair, and another

this dress which i’ll never wear anywhere even when there is a vaccine because… what?! but maybe. you never know. size 34. lol when i get this far into the list i’m always blown away by how insane it is that i do this every year to no audience. so i’m just laughing alone at that. :) i am v funny to myself. another dress i’ll never wear ;)

the nicest weighted blanket you know of i’m depressed!!!!! if you can’t tell!!!!!!!

every year i have asked for a weekend bag and every year i have not received one, so alas, we try again this is not a weekend bag actually but it will do. this is!

a peloton but just venmo me the cash (@merce212) because i have a hookup

an assortment of ridiculous things a $500 body scarf a $580 beach towel with an octopus on it for no reason besides “art” i cannot tell analog time but it’s never too late to start!! how mad would you be if someone bought you a roulette table for your wrist? be honest. (THIS WATCH IS FOUR YEARS RENT!!!!!!) they won’t say how much this costs :( i’m losing my mind and must be gifted a chanel watch or else i will perish. to put my salami on when i am eating salami in my bed “24k gold crocodile [?!!) teddy bear”. the website says there’s only one left, which begs the question “why did someone buy one of these rather than buying me a chanel watch?!!” *real ‘billionaires shouldn’t exist [unless they’re buying me a watch]’ energy* to put my new watch in this is ugly but it’s on sale :) idk wtf “secret box pendant” means but i wish this necklace was also a USB with every season and spinoff of 90 day fiancé on it hi yes i’m stupid but i draw the line at $1500 connect four…

my birthday is coming up (september 26) so i wrote 1200 words about nonsense so that i could bury a birthday wish list at the bottom of this, rather than tastelessly flaunting the fact that i’ve compiled a list of things i would let strangers buy me for my birthday… which i do every single year!

(if you came here looking for the blog about being ghosted, here.)

                                                          *******

it is my understanding that “dating” is “eating dinner with someone who wants to fuck you until they actually get to fuck you and then you just get really invested in serialized television shows and have sex until the next ‘yanny/laurel’ debate inevitably tears you apart.”

it is also my understanding that once i meet someone i like, he’s my boyfriend so, historically, “dating” has been me interviewing someone to be a handyman i’ll pay in kisses.

but i am an ever-evolving, discombobulated little bug, so i recently gave *auditioning to be someone’s girlfriend* a chance.

please strap in and come along on this journey through what it is like for me to go on one single date as a person who cannot complete any task without overthinking it to the point of absolute ruin because her brain is a defective rube goldberg machine.

(if you don’t care, please scroll to the end to find the list of things i’d like for my birthday (and then do with that information what you will). if you care a lot, please also check out what it’s like inside my brain when i have to go to a party.)

A SUITABLE DATE

i have a v specific “type” from which i never stray. the main sine qua non are: over 6’3”, 200lbs+, 45+, appears to be afflicted with a football related brain injury, will disrespect me, not currently under the influence of essential oils.

further than this, what i’m also looking for in a man is someone with at least one divorce under his belt, an angry ex wife, 1-4 kids, and a complete inability to figure out what makes me happy (but someone who is in relentless pursuit of that formula).

six men meet these requirements.

THE PLAN FOR THE DATE 

i prefer to make plans with 2 - 5 hours notice because this effectively mitigates the chance of me cancelling, but this often isn’t feasible because other people have lives that don’t only involve sitting at home waiting to take me out on a date.

also, people who make plans like this are usually trying to hook up, and as we all know… i don’t even fuck!

so a date is scheduled in 2-3 days — any farther in advance i cannot plan without first consulting a psychic and my hormones’ advisory board. 

THE LEAD UP TO THE DATE

i can do nothing but spiral. i wonder if my date is on another date, if i can compete with this hypothetical other date, if i should cancel because i’m certain no one will ever love me as much as my ex, if i should cancel just to be problematic, or to exert cancelling power, or to perpetuate cancel culture?!

no, don’t cancel. we could fall in love and be really happy for a few years, and then i could get really into learning to cook or become a pilot or something. anyway, worst case scenario: he doesn’t like me, and i obsess about him for 400x the length of our courtship… but on the plus: i get to talk about him on the internet forever!

should i go blonde? should i wear a wig? i wonder if there will be hotdogs on the menu at the restaurant.

how can i unlearn every repellent personality quirk i’ve developed from birth in the next 48 hours? 

“how do you… kiss?” i wonder, right before i consider tranqing myself.

luckily, i am promptly choked to the point of syncope by these thoughts of uncertainty and self doubt. 

DAY OF DATE PREP

eventually, by the grace of God, i wake up on the morning of the date.

getting ready for anything i’ve ever done in my entire life, including a black tie wedding, has taken me 9 minutes, but i’m going to spend 2 hours sitting in a chair next to someone i’m not going to fuck, so i’ve chosen to block out a full 10 hours for no reason.

i fill the day applying every type of scrub and mask to my face, body, and hair. i try on every item of clothing i have accumulated over the past 5 years, including a $20,000 couture tom ford gown that a celebrity i forget once wore to a televised award show.

i’m now trying on sweatpants. i’ve put a heel on. “who is stopping me from wearing this?” i ask myself, knowing no one is stopping me from leaving my house and going on a date with a man i could easily get to fall in love with me in 2 hours if i don’t show up to dinner dressed like i just came from a fashionnova casting.

~ wow, time really does fly when you’re watching all your neuroses exit your body to perform a recital for you ~

moments before i have to cut this shit out and decide on something to wear, i lather my entire body in the richest lotion i can find, which notably takes 4-6 hours to sink in.

now it’s time to wiggle into the only outfit i ever leave my house after sunset wearing - a pair of black jeans that i’ll never fit into and a baby’s white tee shirt.

oh. we’re now not going to a restaurant. dinner is at his house.

i set myself on fire.

THE DATE

i am v rude for the first 45 minutes because i have no manners.

no. it’s because i’m nervous, and thus if i’m not cantankerous, filling the space with my shitty attitude, i will have nothing to say because my mind erased all logical ideation as soon as i stepped foot in this man’s home.

it becomes clear that this behavior will no longer be tolerated, so i pivot before i’m cancelled. i change the narrative. i’m nice now.

usually, when i find myself at a man’s house, the only thing i’m thinking is “please don’t have an acoustic guitar” and that thought repeats ad infinitum until i am free… but i know this man does not have an acoustic guitar (or i assume), so all i’m thinking is “does this man like the personality i’ve whipped up for him using a recipe i found in a cosmo from 2002??!”

he does to some degree - or he’s pretending - because he asks to see me again (yay!), and then shows me his house, and then my favorite part comes…

we kiss. 

we kiss and i’ve forgotten entirely how to kiss. literally no idea. never heard of it. i am a human shrug emoji.

“i don’t know how to do this.” - me, talking about kissing to the man i’m “kissing”.

he seems unbothered by this - more acting! - because we move locations, and he is doing his thing while i continue to be an oral cadaver.

that stops for a reason that seems natural and not because he realizes i am an embalmed corpse. and we talk, and that’s nice because my brains have returned for a brief guest appearance.

and then i leave, excited because i like him and it feels like he likes me. 

in the uber, he texts me the same thing he texted me before the last time i never heard from him again... and then i never hear from him again!*

and that, my friends, is a date!

*(i’m kidding. i heard from him one more time. he was cancelling plans we’d made to hang out!!) 

                                                       **

thanks for reading - or scrolling prodigiously - here are some things i’m interested in receiving for my birthday:

(if for some perverse reason you’d like to see my prior innocent but spectacularly misguided registries, please go here. it’s a doozy! however, please note i will only be accepting gifts from this year’s registry. so stay current!)

THE LIST

1. someone bullied me out of leasing a car i really wanted and so now i have no car which is unfortunate. would be nice if someone would throw half the cost of this vehicle at the mercedes store so i could pay a small amount every month to drive this until i’m bored of it in 9 months. it would also be nice if the inside were red because that’s a new kink i have - red leather seats.

2. i can’t tell if it’s basic to want this, but i also do not care at all. it’s perfectly sized to carry all of the 300 notebooks i scribble in. apparently it’s possible to have your name embroidered in lieu of the brand’s… that would be nice; my name is mercedes.

i also like this even though it looks like the only thing it can hold is a small stack of x-rays…

or this. (definitely indisputably basic. but again. i don’t care.)

this is cute

3. one of these dresses even though the only things i do are go on vacation or lie in bed. i’m a size 0 or 34 or whatever the smallest size is.

option one, option two, option three, option four (for the zero people considering purchasing a gift for me. this is my favorite, of course, because i am insane), option five 

4. a vacation - because (see above) i don’t like to be in los angeles for longer than 10 days at a time. here are some ideas:

a local vacation, a vacation in montana, a vacation in mexico. also in mexico. also in mexico.

5. either of these v big suitcases (vacation things!)

6. these shoes or these shoes. i’m a size 38.

7. gift card for an in home massage or one a week for the month of september? up to you!

8. any of these candles. they’re the only candles i’ll allow in my home now, so please don’t stray.

9. a book. i love to read, and i thought it would be nice to remind you i’m a thoughtful and educated thot.

have never read this. one of my favorites but have only read on my iPad... sad! first edition of the aforementioned

10. a necklace. a custom one (18 inch) or this long thing

misc:

when i lived in new york, i was dating someone for 3 months and i literally didn’t know if i could refer to him as someone i knew. we’d be returning a vehicle we rented for a weekend trip and i’d still be like “him? oh. we’ve hung out two dozen times but i don’t really know him know him.”

in la, you wait on line at a grocery store with someone for two to seven minutes and they’re name checking you in therapy three hours later.

i have never had to question the descriptor “my friend” more times than i have since i moved here. 

i know now that “friend” is a spectrum that includes “person you’d invite to your wedding” and “person you exchanged “wow that party sucked” banter with in an elevator once because you happened to leave a party at the same time.”

a really corny thing people with no personalities like to promulgate - and always as if they’re the first person to have ever thought of it - is the idea that you can tell a lot about a person by the way they treat servers at a restaurant. 

while i do think that is true - because like, ok sure - on the flip, i treat servers like deities, but i also once described a 12 year old as a “no job having ass bitch”, so…

(^ a photo of me immediately post yelling at a stranger)

yes. that is important. but, in my opinion, seeing how a person speaks about and interacts with someone they’ve met (who is of any tenable social standing) 1-5 times in the city of los angeles is a far better indicator of whether this person is objectively “good”, or if they are someone who pronounces ibiza in the way you know i’m talking about (you know. like they’re a character in don quixote. you fucking know the way), who will likely try to entangle you in a ponzi scheme in the near future.

these are your friends in NY:

the person you’ve known since you were born, who bailed you out of jail that time you got popped for jumping over a turnstile (this is called “fare evasion”, fyi) in high school

that exact person. no one else.

in new york, a guy who was v close friends with my ex boyfriend pinned me against the door of my ex boyfriend’s dressing room and tried to fuck me... two weeks after we’d broken up… while my ex boyfriend was in the en suite bathroom.

that’s what friendship is in new york! it means nothing! 

these are your “friends” in LA:

every dog

the ex of the person you’re currently dating

the kids and other patients of any of your doctors

someone you let go in front of you on line at any establishment that serves matcha or anything CBD infused

someone you have the same in n out order as

anyone you’ve ever seen before 9am in a context other than working out

someone you DMed 10 times, who responded once with the heart that’s already there for you to click

a person you’ve fucked once or dozens or times over the course of 6 months, whom you refuse to call your significant other because you’re scum

and lastly,

a person who wanted to be your friend, whose trust you broke by trying to fuck them in a v creepy and unwelcome way

let me elaborate on the last:

last year, i was actively soliciting friendship on r*ya (a dating app) by setting up a profile and indicating i was “only here for friends”*.

*(this is a setting for 1. men who want to discreetly cheat on their girlfriends and 2. girls who want to trick men into being friends with them by pretending there’s a possibility they might fuck because they matched on a dating site.)

i matched with a “famous” “musician” (i put both words in quotations because i don’t quite consider a sleepy, middle aged white man whose music’s main accreditation is being the melody playing over a man slipping from coma to death on grey’s anatomy “famous”, but ok…) and we talked for a few weeks (mainly about how i had no friends and was desirous of a handful of them).

eventually we met up. he took me to a restaurant, i ate some food, i had one drink, we had a v boring conversation, and 50 minutes later i went home and remembered that i don’t need friends.

we didn’t talk again until three weeks later on a monday afternoon. he invited me over to his place to watch the new “curb” and eat chinese food. i said yes because i wanted free chinese food (and because i still have not learned that accepting an invitation to a man’s house apparently indicates that you’d like to suck his dick).

i arrived in sweatpants at 4pm. we ate chinese food, played backgammon, and he mansplained the “me too” movement to me for approximately 20 minutes. that is not a joke.

he also told me that louis ck would be the next man to be outed (weird flex but ok), and shared a story about him “lining girls up and masturbating on their shins”! also not a joke.

impossibly boring story short… at some point i thought, “i do not even want to be friends with this white devil. it’s time for me to leave”. so i got up, ordered an uber, and walked to the front door.

as i was putting my jacket on, he walked over to me in a way that i cannot even compare to anything to emphasize how crazy it was because it was so specifically over the top in it’s own way. this man sauntered over to me with both his arms outstretched, grabbed either side of my face and tilted his head to kiss me.

after touting his beliefs on the importance of women not being seen as sexual beings for three hours while i sat in his sterile home in sweatpants, eating lo mein, this soft, balding man tried to #metoo lite me.

that’s what friendship means to a man in los angeles. 

there’s no doubt in my mind this corny bozo refers to me as a “friend”... but my only friends are on the internet + the guy who pumps my gas on coldwater.

that being said. if you made it all the way here (wow. you must want to fuck me. hello!!) we are now friends and you are therefore obligated to buy me a christmas gift from the below list of carefully curated, v expensive christmas gifts i’ve assembled:

1. what i really want is a vintage sean john velour sweatsuit that i can have altered and wear every single day of my life until i die from texting and driving, but i don’t know if that’s reasonable… so maybe this tracksuit which is for children but i am sure will fit me. or this set. or this one, which matches my sneakers:

2. i want to go to a lakers game, please. front row. i don’t want this unless it’s front row. please respect this.

3. a trip here  (+ 1 for my sister)

4. this hand soap, because i love to keep my hands clean, and i also love people to know i’m rich when they use my bathroom, which they’ll know when they exit my bathroom, and i charge them for the squirts of hand soap they’ve just used

5. a personalized tray. i do all my business, sleeping, and eating in bed, so this would be helpful, so i can organize all my things.  or a clutch. same people

6. these sneakers. or these. or these. or these. size 7

7. one of these two books. or another book. i love to read, and i can afford to buy them, i just thought it nice to include here... so you remember i’m a thoughtful and educated thot.

8. this dress. or this one. or this dress which i don’t think will look good on me

9. this candle

10. this fanny pack, but only because i want to recreate that man’s exact look, so probably not the best idea to purchase this. 

11. these shoes. or these. 7.5

12. this chair. or these

13. a series of 1 on 1 training sessions at lagree. if you’ve ever watched me simulate sex work out, you will come through with this gift before christmas  

14. this bag which is overflow from my birthday gift list. or this one

thank you so much. here is another picture of me and one of my closest friends in la - a dog i spent 90 harrowing minutes with. i hate dogs.

i was crippled with anxiety in the weeks leading up to my 21st birthday (just last year! wow, time sure does fly!) terrified that one of my earnest girlfriends, in an innocent but spectacularly misguided attempt to celebrate me, would surprise me by hiring a limo** - with a sunroof that i would be expected to stick my upper body out of - to drive us around times square because she had misinterpreted my denouncement of a limo full of rabble (one of whom - having witnessed my disdainful facial expression - had rolled down her window to look at me pityingly and emit with no irony the query, “jealous?”) as repressed curiosity… when in actuality it had been a manifestation of my vehement distaste for unfettered, garish exhibitions of joy.

(limo sidebar: my alter ego, reina, is *obsessed* with limos:

you can see more of her work here. HIRE ME TO RUN YOUR DATING APP ACCOUNT THAT YOU USE TO AMUSE YOURSELF AT THE EXPENSE OF DESPERATE MIDDLE AGED MEN IN YOUR AREA!)

while the last time i was flailing my body through a limo’s sunroof was never, i can say with the utmost confidence, i could go to my grave never having had 50-100% of my body in a limo and my life will have been full.

ditto drunkenly slurring “genie in a bottle” in a neon lighted basement in chinatown with strangers who smell like a chain hibachi restaurant. (i’m describing a karaoke bar. did it work?)

double ditto having a man in a thong swathe me in a sash and other bridal accoutrements and proceed to rub his muscles on me in the name of tradition at a bachelorette party (which is why i don’t allow anyone near me who owns a michael kors purse, whose favorite movie stars reese witherspoon, anyone who has seen magic mike in a theatre, or anyone who thinks instagramming a glass of wine with a caption about “relaxing” is an appropriate thing to instagram… also anyone who has ever posted a collage or that “year in review” on instagram. also anyone who wishes family members who don’t have instagram a happy birthday/father’s day/mother’s day etc. on instagram. #instagram #spon)

fear of having to refuse to partake in the activities someone has planned for me because they assault my sensibilities - and therefore having no celebration at all - has not stopped me from expecting to be surprised in some way on my birthday (september 26th. that is my birthday) every year since i turned 14 my first year at boarding school.

my parents are not “fun” people. they don’t “do” surprises. my mom is not “warm” and my dad is not “sneaky”.

despite this, i was absolutely convinced that my parents - who lived in new york and had acrimoniously divorced the summer before - would surprise me for my birthday and, i don’t know… take me to dinner and look at me, my mother contemplating why she’d crossed the atlantic ocean to do this when she could have just not and instead she could be in new york at like, the chobani store (this is a private joke for myself about my mom and her v specific, repellent personality). but no, instead, she’s in london with her ex husband… watching their daughter eat her weight in prosciutto and not even have the decency to have adopted a british accent yet.

honestly, the best possible outcome was no less grim than this… and yet!

when i woke up, assuming they’d taken a red eye, i calculated time for collecting their bags, getting lost and added two hours in case my recalcitrant mother had gotten detained for saying “bomb” on an airplane in a post 9/11 world - something she has literally done for sport; i have borne witness to it.

so, at lunch until the end of the school day, i stared out the window, waiting for them to arrive. when school ended and they hadn’t arrived, i expected them to surprise me in the dining hall at dinner. they didn’t. when my dad called me after study hall to wish me a happy birthday i thought, “oh maybe just my mom is coming…”

neither of them showed… nor did they the next three birthdays i had there, even though every year i woke up with the same eagerness of anticipation.

(that christmas, aged 14, i learned there was no santa.)

the perpetuation of this surprise fantasy allows me to excitedly anticipate a thoughtfully placid fete… and then inevitably gently fails to come to fruition, effectively allowing me to enjoy a day pleasantly marked by sangfroid, as i consider the calamity that “could have been” while at a dinner i have guilted one to three of my five friends into attending at the last minute!

and THAT is the cycle of my birthday and the 364 leading up to my birthday. (my birthday is a lifestyle, just like drake said.)

(an alternative explanation is that i continue to delude myself into thinking someone will plan a surprise party for me *in order* to be disappointed so that i may blame any potential melancholy on someone (everyone!) else instead of my hatin ass for being a human being who is impossible to please and whose inability to literally be “fun loving” and embrace gauche celebratory activities has barred her from ever experiencing the type of youthful excitement katy perry songs are about. this is a shitty but also v honest assessment. thank you for reading.)

ALL THAT BEING SAID … if you’ve been here before, you know my hatred of vulgar displays of birth nostalgia does not prevent me from loving being celebrated privately and has never stopped me from treating my birthday like it’s a wedding and creating a tacky but v self aware registry for the occasion.

so without further ado …

my birthday list! (which - because i refuse to leave my home unless it's to go to a lawyer's office to sign a contract and pick up a check for a series order for my pilot - is the only acceptable way in which you may celebrate me privately. so if you choose not to celebrate me financially, please consider yourself removed from the following list.)

thanks!

(if for some perverse reason you’d like to see my prior innocent but spectacularly misguided registries, please go here. it’s a doozy! however, please note i will only be accepting gifts from this year’s registry. so stay current!)

also, i’m not going to say whether or not anyone has ever purchased something for me off one of my lists, but i will quote william blake “If the fool would persist in his folly he would become wise” as opposed to albert einstein and you may draw your own conclusions.

the list.

givenchy pandora purse

here are 1, 2, 3, 4 options

a casual throw for my bed

i just love something easy you know? i beg you to click that link and know that the description includes this: “perfect for cuddling in the cold”. literally lmao. correct. and unfortunately there’s zero other way for me to cuddle in the cold.

seriously though a casual throw

this one is on sale in the white, which is the only color i allow on my bed. isn’t that nice!

ditto this one

here’s one that isn’t

a pillow

i need a firm pillow. i didn’t know that. i thought i liked soft. but then i realized i like firm and my pillows are soft. you can see my dilemma. here or here or here

this bathrobe

it’s a bathrobe. you know how they go.

a juicero

i don’t know how many times i have to ask. i’m not even putting a link because i’m so furious. ditto: a range rover. smh. 

a personalized clutch

do what you will. small or big

a vacation

you know... so i can chill from all the stress of waking up and realizing i have to figure out how to spend the next 10 hours… every. single. mother. fucking. day. here are some places i’d like to go. you’re more than welcome to book a trip for yourself, but i will not engage with you in any way. (i kept it domestic…ish to be polite)

arizona

this is a whole spa thing…

tulum

utah. also utah

montana

this is an all inclusive ranch experience… can you imagine the discreet fun i would have! and the joy you would get from witnessing that, second hand.

wyoming

erewhon gift card

somewhere in the range of $1000-5000 should take care of me for the fall. if you need to understand why, please read this

macarons

not shitty ones. please use bottega louie as a standard but you can find better i’m sure. go to france! i want like 45 of them. pistachio is my favorite; i also like rose, salted caramel, strawberry.

i want to go to a lakers game, but i must be courtside.

no link.

sunglasses chain thing

i am v embarrassed to put this here because i was directed to it from some bop’s instagram i never should have been on… but we all make mistakes and now you can literally pay for mine. (when i typed “sunglass chain”, it autocorrected sunglass to dumbass.) feel free to have a regular glasses chain custom made if you’d rather not support the local business of an instagram celebrity. i wear glasses now to look smarter but uglier.

a candle 

this candle smells like the gramercy hotel in new york. i once stepped on john mcenroe’s foot “accidentally” at the bar inside this hotel in 2013. that is enough of an interesting story to make you buy me 5 of these candles, right? consider it preemptive retribution for the serena williams comment.

a yoga mat

it’s a long story… i saw a spider in my home and my neighbor called the police on me because i was yelling and crying so loudly she thought i was being murdered. but in actuality, i was heaving a yoga mat across the room to cover the intruder... and then i stomped it to smithereens, effectively rendering the yoga mat - which had previously never been in use - useless. i need another one. and this one is one of the most expensive ones i could find. it’s luxuriously dense, like my cerebrum.

really good headphones

i think this pair are really good but then again i am an idiot. i will accept any that someone deems “really good”.

megaphone

i’d like a megaphone for reasons i don’t feel comfortable getting into here. i have not googled but any top of the line megaphone should do.

in conclusion, i will settle for a job a dinner at olive garden or nobu malibu on my birthday - with uber suv roundtrip fee included - where no one sings happy birthday to me and no one asks “how my career is going”! my birthday is september 26th.