Don't Ever Live With A Man

It's been awhile since I bitched on here. I'm not going to pretend like so much has happened. I'm basically here in Orange County, living the gilded prison life I set myself up to live.

I succeeded in moving back to California. I got my transfer. I decided not to get a modeling agent right away because I liked the idea of eating and laying on my ass all day at the beach, for some reason. Call it age, call it flubbing out, whatever. I was tired of being tired, so fuck it. Give me another bag of gummies and be snappy with that rum and coke.

I considered trying to get a commercial or print gig right away, and even submitted myself for a few things but I had forgotten how much harder the game is out here. In order to get gigs you have to actually try, and I wasn't in the mood. I talked to a casting agent about a Bank of America commercial and at the end of it I realized I didn't give a shit at all. I did, however, continue to vote on the SAG awards. I love feeling that I'm actually somewhat in control of which self important actor wins, lol.

All my east coast girlfriends were jealous, never visited me once. Lame douches.

I initially had my own apartment. Things were going well. Then my lease came due and my doctor boyfriend demanded I not renew my lease and move in with him, to his 1.1 million dollar home in Orange County. I'm not an idiot, I lived with a douchebag in LA some years ago....I had told myself I was never going to live with another guy, ever. I value my freedom over free rent any day. You can't put a price on freedom.

I said ok and moved in with Mr. Doctor. Things were going great until he started henpecking me about every little thing. He's cheap and bitches about the lights being on. I wanted to ask, do you do heart surgery by fucking candlelight?

Everything is shit now. Been living with him for 4 1/2 months and I'm ready for my closeup on the news for domestic violence. I can understand now why women go crazy and slice off their partner's genitals. No wonder he was single when I met him. He's bossy, anal, a control freak and cheap. Wow, what a catch! And stupid ladies everywhere think that "doctors" are such perfect partners. Think again, chumps.

What happened to me? I went from being a savvy east coast model/actress to being a west coast OC yuppie who swims at the pool in the afternoons, and takes english riding lessons at the local equestrian club. And then goes home to her tyrant boyfriend who says that "someday" we'll get married. I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me but I really need to stop wasting years of my life on men who are narcissists.

I gained 5 pounds and he bitched about that, I got drunk when we were in Mexico on vacation and he bitched about that. he bitched that my blonde hair wasn't "natural" enough looking so I darkened it to a sandy blonde. He bitched about a pair of Hudson jeans i had that he didnt' like, for some weird reason..then he bitched that I bought a new small lcd flat screen tv for my home office without consulting him first.

Ahem...why the fuck do I need to ask you before I buy something for myself? I earned this money, not you. Wow, the humanity.

I Only Meant It As A Joke

I love it when men try to pass off shitty behavior as a joke. As if the word "joke" was a get out of jail free card.

When I hear the word "joke" I just think, wow this guy is such a fucking idiot that he thinks he can convince me he wasn't trying to hit me, or wasn't trying to put me down, or wasn't trying to shit on my accomplishments.

It's so hard.

Piggy Gets Revenge

All the piggies will eventually get their revenge on the world. It's inevitable.

In the meantime, we can be fun and fashionable, and drink alot.

My drinking skyrocketed when he started making jokes about my weight.

I started buying "smaller" sizes of vodka bottles, so it would fit behind my bed frame.
I started pouring cocktails for myself from my private bedroom/office, as opposed to making drinks in the kitchen.

i keep my rum and vodka hidden.

Save Your Money

Don't ever spend a dime on a man.

Ever.

Dumbest thing you could ever do.

Why is that, you ask?

I moved back to Southern California last October with about $6,000. I now have less than $1650 to my name. It's fucking December. I gave up my San Diego apartment, agreed to move in with him. Big fucking mistake.

I spend the majority of my "saved" income on groceries, laundry detergent, and cleaning supplies. I buy food, milk, dinner materials, and pick up the occasional tab when we are out eating. Groceries are almost worth the entire cost of what my previous rent was, without any of the freedom.

I also now have a two hour commute to work, twice a week, and am separated from my friends and social life in San Diego. Now every time i want to spend time with anyone, I have to get in the car and drive for 90 minutes. That might seem harmless but it's painful after you've been out drinking for several hours.

I work from home three days a week and clean the house: I do his laundry and clean his bathroom. I vacuuum his bedroom and take out his trash. I get bitter about doing these things when he comes home and then doesn't say anything but mentions how I've gained weight.

So...about that.

I gained about 10 lbs. You wouldn't really tell ordinarily, but if you know skinny people, you can tell. I am a little pudgier.

You know what, assholes? I'm happy with that. Nothing wrong with it, I think I am better looking without my bones jutting out. It just amazes me that after being with a man for two years, traveling across the country with him, for him, giving up my apartment to live with him, all he can say is "Piggy".

I don't want to be "piggy"

Just fucking kill me.

California Move Completed

So I moved back to California last year, in October right before the weather turned to shit in New England. I love it. Life is good again, and the weather is awesome.

Moving is really annoying and costly. Basically my boyfriend and I were like cats in a bag, from all the stress. He had an old girl buddy from medical school who tried to exploit the "supportive friend" act while I was stuck in Boston and was spending way too much time with him, you girls know how it is. I squashed that douche like a bug the second I hit the tarmac.

Remember me, bitch?

My boyfriend loves me and has always been loyal, I don't have to worry. But I will kick ass when it needs to be kicked, so back off losers.

I don't have a relationship with my mother anymore. I'm happy with it, you don't get to choose your parents and you don't have to like them. So I don't. It's a free country. My boyfriend doesn't talk to his mother either so we have that in common. She's a cultural elitist douchebag from another country, and she can stay on her side of the ocean and knit socks to eternity for all I care. He and I are united on that front, and that's all that matters.

I haven't done a single thing to get myself an agent or new modeling portfolio since I've been out here. I just don't feel like it, so what. Sometimes you just don't feel like working. I've had that feeling for the last 6 months. I don't even want to go to work, I just don't have any motivation at all for anything. I think it's called Burnout.

My boyfriend wants me to move in, that's the latest drama....

The Boyfriend Situation - Continued

I haven't spoken to my mother in months.

I'm sending her flowers via online and a card so that people in my family will stop sticking pins into voodoo dolls with my name on it. I'm not close with my mother anymore, big effing deal. It happens. Sometimes too much shit happens to people and they just don't like each other anymore. Sharing the same DNA shouldn't mean that you are bound to one another. I believe that the definition of family and friends are the people in your life, every day, who give a shit and contribute positively to your well being. Ok all of that was really boring so I'm going to stop now.


Sometimes I don't shower for days at a time. Sometimes I just don't feel like it. I see my boyfriend every other day and on those days, I have to because he's a doctor and he would notice. This morning I did, and now I'm at work, with wet hair because I'm too lazy to blow dry it in the morning. It's a good thing because it reinforces my 'non-model' look at work and keeps the married assholes from leering at me.

My boyfriend is selling his beemer this weekend, in preparation for moving. Every time he talks about it it's like a railway spike slicing right through my chest. I applied for a west coast transfer at my firm a month ago, and haven't heard anything back yet. Fits right in with my horrible luck streak. It's driving me crazy. I feel like I'm going to be 100, and stuck here forever. It depresses the shit out of me.

I bought two lottery tickets today, hopefully I'll win 17 million dollars so I can just quit and pack up my things tomorrow and head back to LA. That is, if reality doesn't set in first.

My boyfriend is extremely perceptive, he notices everything. He can tell the slightest nuance that I am depressed and sad and when that happens he makes comments about it. All night. Until I tell him what is bothering me and quite frankly what am I supposed to say? Oh honey it's nothing, I'm just depressed that when you move to LA in July I won't be able to go with you right away and I am going to be stuck here miserable for all eternity? Not very attractive. Men say, "you can tell me anything" but don't do it. Never reveal your weaknesses to a guy, it lowers your value, I've learned, in the long run.

It's May Now Which Means I Only Have 3 months now

Countdown to July: 3 months

I was supposed to be increasing the balance in preparation for my LA move but it seems to be going in the opposite direction. Lovely. I have a high overhead: hair, nails, tanning, cable, internet, clothes, sushi, booze, gym membership, gas, and airfare suck my income dry every month. It's tough being me, if I skimp on any of these things my whole look goes to shit.

I have this insatiable desire to be somebody, something. It's like a knawing hunger that haunts me. I just can't be satisfied with floating along. I have to be really, really successful. I want prestige and popularity. I want it so badly I am terrified of being lost in mediocrity. It's a curse to never be satisfied.

Also...Boyfriends make you fat.

My boyfriend, the hot doctor, picks me up in his beemer every other day and we have dinners out. He likes big, 'man' style dishes like steaks, bbq, etc. He also likes sushi but he likes the designer rolls that are usually drizzled in spicy mayo or bread crumbs. This kind of eating doesn't agree with my thighs and the result is I have to starve on the days I don't see him. If I attempt to cancel plans he gets paranoid and thinks I'm up to something and comes over anyway, lol.

I love his persistence.