Get Over Yourself

Seriously Hautechick. Yes I'm putting it out there for all of the blog world to see, you my dear sister are a grade A first class jerk. I know I've told you this before, but I decided to document it for prosperity. But its not like you could evah be so bothered as to, I dont know, say read the blog that you started. So I'm not exactly worried about you seeing this, not that I care. On occasion you have your moments where you are cool as shit, like when you treated me to a massage. But in general, you my dear are a big fat jerkorella with a rancid cherry on top!

So like I said, Hautechick knew I wasn't feeling well so she took me for a massage. But I should point out, that all she did was pay while I made the reservation and research and shit. Thanks but a $60 massage does not mean that I should buy you a $200 Marc Jacobs dress. What am I stoopid?! And why the hell do you feel it necessary to always try and get me to buy stuff for you? Which I would do if you would stop asking me for ridiculous shit...

Ok I must take a minute out of this rant to say "Helllllllo!" to the delicious smelling, nice suited Italian man in my Boss' office. Whoo boy did that make me forget about all sorts of shit! And now back to my regularly scheduled rant...

So last week I may have flaked on her. She invited me to a party for some of NYC's top bachelors. First I was like oh boy man meat! but then I thought about it and figured that there would be alot of women there pretty much thinking the same thing and it probably wont be fun. And then I start thinking about how Hautechick favorite way to piss me off is to tell some embarassing ass story about me, or better yet to ignore me. She'll embarass me if she thinks I'm getting too much attention, and ignore me when she thinks that I'm trying to steal her spotlight. Not exactly ideal conditions to be meeting me. Then she tells me that shes bringing a friend of hers. Not one I know, like M, but this gay dude that I've only met once. THEN she tells me she will call me at 6:30 and I dont hear from her til 7:15. "Oh me and J are having drinks at blah blah, come on whats taking you so long?" Ohkay, how about I'm waiting for your fickle ass to call me, and since you didn't at 6:30 I started doing something at work and I can't leave now. How about I don't know J from Eve so what the fuck do I care if I make him wait? Oh or how about my favorite, now I'm tired and I'm going the fuck home.

So even though this is a move that she often does to me, I'm the flake cause I didn't want to play her entourage. But I tried to make it up to her. I asked if she wanted to go for mani/pedis my treat, she can pick the place (which in Hautechick land means that shes gonna pick a place thats more expensive than she would pay for herself) and we will go on Sunday. Except we didn't go on Sunday. I called her on Saturday afternoon to see if we could go later in the day on Sunday (I forgot that I was supposed to go to lunch with cousin T) and her phone was going straight to voicemail. So I waited about 2 hours or so then I called back, same thing, so I just left a message. Next day Sunday, I call her around 2, no answer, I don't leave a message. Then its 4 and Cousin T and I rescheduled and I still can't find Hautechick. So I call once more, but I don't leave a message. I figure she's got the one from yesterday and the cell is gonna tell her she missed my calls. No big deal.

Now its like 6:30 and I'm upstairs at Mommy's and she asks me if I heard from Hautechick this weekend. I tell her no, that she must be in one of her funks cause she's not answering the phone and we were supposed to get pedicures. So, Mommy picks up the phone to see what is going on with her other child. "Oh nothing Mommy, I was just tired. But what the hell is up with Trouble, she's been stalking me all weekend. She needs to get some friends."

Ah, no jerkorella I do not need to get some friends, cause if I wanted to smack the shit outta my sister for saying some dumb shit like that, I'd more than likely kill a bitch not related to me. And I suppose I should have friends like you? that come over eat all your shit, smoke all your weed, drink all your liquor and then break the fuck out? (Not you M! Those other sometimey hookers that Hautey calls friends) Or how about your bestest friend, that fat hateful jealous thing thats comes to Brooklyn every weekend and yet you never see her or your godchild?

Seriously, I thank gawd everyday for the Artist, just cause it means that I dont have to deal with you as much..