Wow, I can't believe it's Monday again already. Where does the time go? It's crazy how much I've been posting lately. Very unlike me. Some might think it's because I'm super duper broke and have nothing else to do besides sit home surfing the internet. Don't you believe it, friends. Ha ha, nothing could be further from the truth. My life is all about non-stop famous people and sex, drugs, and rock and roll. I'm just posting a lot in order to share my experiences with those more glamour deprived than myself. I'm all about sharing, you see?
Recently I ran into the Kardashian sisters at the Victoria's Secret fashion show. Too bad I was cut out of the photo (damn paps!) or you could have seen that I was wearing the exact same dress as they, only mine was deep purple with orange and puse stiching and cutouts over the nipples. The fashion show was a big bore so we took turns flinging spit balls at the models and putting gum in Paris's hair extensions. Afterwards we went out for $18 cocktails at The Ivy where we chatted and gossiped for hours until it was time for Kim's butthole bleaching appointment. Well, I was having so much fun that I decided to tag along and get one of my own and wowza! - it hardly stung at all and now it looks all nice and snowy white back there!
For some reason John Mayer didn't seem all that thrilled to see me the other day. That may be because I spray painted his car with the word "Douchebag" after he didn't call me when he said he would. How dare he! I mean, we spent three magical hours getting busy in the pool and another thirty minutes humping in a jacuzzi, so when he said he'd call I believed him. Let me tell you, no one makes a fool of Prunella Jones and gets away with it!
Note to self: Buy some more black spray paint and consult urbandictionary.com for more creative ways to call someone an asswipe.
This week I also aquired my very own stalker which is actually kind of cool. (In Hollywood you are nobody without one.) Jessica Alba just won't leave me alone. She's been jealous of me for years, you know. And then we got drunk and had crazy sex that one time and she just went bonkers! Told me I was the love of her life and that she couldn't live without me. Well, I was touched of course, but gently explained that I preferred to be wild and free like a butterfly, etc. and yadda yadda. Then I got her some Prozac and introduced her to that guy she married. Everything seemed fine and I assumed they were happy together with their little baby, but I guess not. Yesterday there was a note in my mailbox - written in either blood or Chanel's Vamp Red nail polish, it's hard to tell them apart - warning that she was going to kill me if I didn't come back to her. I sort of laughed it off until I saw her sitting outside of my house this morning with an ax! Damn! I had to sneak out the back and was nearly late for my tanning bed session. She must be off the meds or something!
Oh Justin Timberlake! Isn't he so cute? He's letting the world know that we slept together five - count 'em - five times. Actually, it would have been six but he got miffed when I put on that Britney wig and started singing "Hit Me Baby One More Time." Who would have thought he would still be so sensitive about that after all these years?
Kirsten Dunst and I only slept together four times. I'm a busy woman, you know. Although...hmmmmm...looks like I'm free tonight. Kirsten, call me!