One small, minuscule thing about LA I like is ‘Agent Provocateur’. What’s even better; spending someone else’s money there. I’ve been on my own this week as my big poppa/sugar daddy/millionaire match/cliché money maker male partner has been busy.


Although he did hire a car for me to hit all the hotspots these last few days in style, Westwood (boring), Malibu (never felt so pale and overfed and I’m a size 2), Rodeo Drive (WASPY dreadful style), Melrose Ave. (Kitchen is so…kitch) and countless night clubs that don’t need to be mentioned. I see now why New Yorkers make fun of this fantastic plastic land.


No one was particularly nice or friendly, except when they saw me exit my limo. Perhaps my shit attitude reflected in my clothes; black leather pants, black blazer over a blood red corset, motorcycle boots, no purse. I hate purses, women get upset when they don’t see other women carrying a purse because they can’t size you up, see how much your worth, if you have a designer or knock off. Pitty. I just let them guess.


The most interesting thing happened when I lunched by myself (which is unheard of I suppose by all the pity glances I got) and was reading when a drunkard at the bar interrupted by peace and quiet by acting like a belligerent fool. As he made his scene, no doubt for our benefit since he was slightly famous (think shit MTV show), I stuck my foot out ever so slightly to catch his shoe as he stormed out of the restaurant. He caught it and slammed down face first into the floor. I turned the page. Alas, my peace and quiet was back.


Hopefully we leave soon.

I hate L.A.

There are few things I loath more then LA. I hate, hate and hate that town. No matter what part your in, everyone excludes the air of, ‘look at me, look at me.’ Though I come from a place of money, I date for money, I’m not such a fan of the whole production of spending it openly and so…flashy.

I like to spend money on experience; travel, exotic food, vacation, etc. Rather then the current population of LA who seem to spend every dime on things. Big flashy cars, jewelry, houses, for fuck sakes even dogs. When did creatures become a flashy source of income? The worst is that Middle American see’s these things on The Hills, Real Housewives, MTV Cribs, VH1 Heiress shows, Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous, so then they too spend all of their money pretending to show off how rich they are when really they can’t afford to pay their credit card bills.

I’m just bitching because I’ve been brought to this shady town as my newest conquest has work to do here. Sadly enough he’s involved in the movies/tv/over all shit industry.
At parties here all anyone ever talks about is themselves, their ‘craft’ and how they seethe at the money dripping tits of studio execs. No one here seems to have any source of culture, let alone a college education. I tried to bring up a few philosophers I love and studies in University, (Apuleius and Wonhyo) and their eyes just glaze over. Yet they can talk one’s fucking ear’s off about any reality show on TV. Twice of which I've been offered a spot on a 'Hills spin off' for my sharp wit, good looks and ability to form sentences. I’ve never been so insulted!

I weep for the future. This is why i have not updated, been trying so hard to be positive but now i say fuck it.

Staying in love; it’s impossible and in the very least, highly unlikely. Not only does it seem to get duller and duller, the spark fades. Marriage is so archaic, what really truly is the point of marriage? Combined assets? Perhaps it’s giving up and giving in to the system.

Those who don’t want marriage (like myself) are looked down upon and judged. There is nothing worse then a housewife who looks down on me when SHE doesn’t work and just fucks the man who does pay the bills.
I realize what I do and who I am.

I am a girl who graduated University with two degrees and no job. I search(ed) and no luck. I know what my assets are (and I don’t mean my mind). So yes, I found a way to exploit myself before the world did it to me. Though men make sure to put me in my place or take advantage of me, like the obvious stares and looks down my shirt, my ass my tits, the comments and catcalls. Why not take advantage of the idiots that are men and get yours while they are getting theirs?
Women sell sex waking up every morning, choosing the clothes they put on their backs, the make up and hair, always looking sexually available. They know the power.
The power to have your car and housing taken care of, of all your needs fulfilled, of giving pleasure and feeling desired.

I’ll take that over a dull house and kids and husband any day.

It may seem silly. It does to me even in my own head. Though I am not even past 22, I am curious and anticipating getting older.

I think aging (in all its glory) is the great equalizer. No matter how rich/poor/talented/happy/successful/smart/stupid/funny one is, we will all get old with wrinkles and slowly fall apart. I’m talking, 70 + in the age department, here people, a whole other (new?) world.

Maybe it’s slightly, perhaps, because I know I won’t get harassed by men on a daily basses, cat called or eye fucked when I’m walking about in a public place. It will be a strange feeling to be passed over for another woman, something I have yet to experience. Some how I feel I won’t miss the attention too much.

My tits (which are all mine thank you ever much) will be swinging to the floor, my hourglass body will most likely lose the shape and my hair will be white. It’s so strange to think of, you never think the day will come.

I have all sorts of questions for future me;
Will I have a family?
Do I enjoy sex as much?
Will I be a dried up spinster?
Will I age gracefully (I hope)?
Who, of my friends, will die first?
Will I have all original body parts?

This culture obsesses on youth, will everything and everyone be continue to grow meaningless?

Been preoccupied because for some god awful reason, I got a ‘real job’ that was entry level and even though it had a fancy title, ‘director of new business PR’ it was a royal shit job. A big, huge, anonymous company where one could work there for 20 years and get fired out of the blue and no one would miss you.

Woke up at 6am everyday only to be accosted by middle aged men that assumed grabbing my ass was perfectly okay every time I walked by. After the 1st week I had a black and blue ass.

Fetching someone’s coffee and doing busy work is not a life well lived. An honest living! It’s totally, utterly dishonest to lie to yourself every day that this sort of life is okay. Even the slightest bit okay.

So I did what I thought I would. I caught the eye of the chairman of the board and now have a new man. It was his choice to have me quit, in case it ‘raised any eyebrows.’

I was so over the job I readily agreed. Perhaps I could explore a career in a different light, like hooking? Maybe S&M? I kid, I kid, maybe. Nothing has the thrill that sex does but when you make it a career…..well it’s not really looked well upon. So what’s a girl to do when her one passion of lust and sex is looked down on by the rest of the world and her young interests lack everywhere else?

Sex Shops

I’m always surprised how uncomfortable men are in lingerie and sex stores. If men think about sex every 3 minutes, surely there is no shame in being at the stores that supply these fantasies.
Sex is shoved down our throats in nearly every multi media outlet possible; tits, dildos, porn, nipple clamps, tassels, lube, anal beads, costumes, whips/chains and such are in the porn men watch and sex appeal is in every beer commercial I’ve ever seen, so why the discomfort? If anyone should be uncomfortable is should be the ladies and the pressure of sexual image they must uphold, constantly, (because, as we all know, once no one wants to fuck us, we’re moot, tossed aside).
Sex in this culture is shameful when it comes right down to it. Otherwise wouldn’t we all be fucking in the open, sex shops wouldn’t be so creepy and lingerie shopping wouldn’t be giggled about.
Thank fuck for online shopping, saves the hassle and discrete boxes. Sometimes it puts you on odd mailing lists, I really wonder what the mail lad thinks of my animal sized dildo and bondage catalogues.

What makes a man want a woman? Every makeup, lingerie and beauty potion ad would have us believe what they’re selling makes a man want you. The more important question to be asked is, how do you keep him interested in you once you get him?
A friend (of sorts) raved and raved about a new man she met, perfect, sweet, a bit nerdy, slightly buff and over all a ‘nice guy.’ I was introduced to him over sushi and no sooner did she get up to use the bathroom/loo/restroom did he promptly stare down my blouse and ask if I was single. My friend really, is a pretty girl, not pretty in a sexual way, pretty in a cute way. It leads me to find that men want sexy pretty as well as cute pretty and not necessarily in the same women.
This is the Madonna/whore complex broken down to a man’s level, the one you marry and the one you fuck. I happen to believe you can be both, though rarely is it true.
I realize I’m the one ‘you fuck’ and I’m happy with that. I prefer fucking to marriage much more. Unfortunately for married women it’s with their husbands. I’m no prostitute but I am a mistress with a craving for some fun on the side from time to time in-between my men. SO guard you’re husbands ladies, I’m a single gal.
Yes, as of now, I am a free mistress. A mistress with no master. I was bored, he was preoccupied and I wanted a good fuck. So after breaking things off (on good terms) I decided to go for what I wanted all along, a man I’d been eyeing at his job. A man I met at dinner parties and weekends away with the company. He knew what I was and I knew the girlfriends he kept along with his wife. All honest, all open.
I called his secretary and made an appointment at his office (on a higher floor, same building). He rang back and moved it earlier in the day, gave the secretary the day off after he had her clear all his appointments. I was excited riding the elevator up to his floor, I hadn’t been this excited in a long time by a man.
He greeted me at his secretary’s desk, walked me into his office, locked the doors and turned and put his mouth on mine. He lifted me to his desk, hiked up my skirt and discovered I wasn’t wearing anything underneath. He had me over and over at his desk, I sucked him off as he took a phone call from a business partner till he just screamed “I have to go!” and hung up. He lifted me against the wall till his arms trembled.
I left getting what I wanted.