Sometimes and mostly this year, especially when you get stalked by paparazzi while Christmas shopping with your kid on a Saturday, this is how I feel about this town I live in...
1. Take a big fat shit.
2. Wrap it up in some nice shiney gold tin foil.
3. Put a Louis Vuitton bow around it.
4. Inject it with botox
5. Tell everyone its 30 instead of 45 days old.
5. And finally, have your drug dealer and therapist drive it over in their Bentley to hand out at your Country/Beach/Whatever Club, while you sit at home drinking a Vodka and Vicodin cocktail and fucking the pool boy....
LA is so stereotypical it's like living in a fucking really BAD 80's movie...
1 comment:
Upper Class 45 is Middle Class 30. Which according to that rule, makes you and I both well over Upper Class 50's......
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