Papa don't preach

Dear Diary,

Lately, my life has been a continuous acid trip. And not the good kind where you feel inspired and find yourself writing incredible songs à la John Lennon. No. It has been unsettling, nauseating even. 

Just today, Laura sat me down after a long session at the gym and told me she had some important news. The last time she told me she had important news was a week ago when she declared she was pregnant so I was bracing myself for the worst. In fact, even before we went to the gym, I could sense she had some grave stuff in store because she was wearing a headband. Laura only ever wore headbands when she wanted to look serious because the pressure from the pinch made her face scrunch up and look quite pensive. I guess it's easier than actually growing some brain cells. 

Anyhow, Laura has decided she is keeping the baby. Cut to me with my Taylor Swift surprised facial expression. Seriously? Who did Laura think she was? Bristol Palin? I didn't want to sound unsupportive or anything but any comforting words would be specious crap. She had to hear the truth. Cut to Laura telling me I am a superficial bitch who deserves a Louboutin up her ass. After a couple weak fashion-related insults, Laura left the room ripping off her headband and slamming the door behind her. I had an inkling at that moment that we weren't going to be friends anymore. And I was right. The snide little hussy had made it official and deleted me from her friends list on facebook.

When I got home, William had made dinner and even cleaned the house a little. Sweet of him. Lately, William and I have been getting along superbly. William is a wonderful cook and I am a wonderful eater. He is also a great listener too. Well, that or he just doesn't have much going on in his own life, which is really what a good listener is, right? 

Halfway through dinner, Alistair came barging through the door with his chest heaving. Apparently, miss baby bump had gone and told my boyfriend I had been 'mean' to her. As you know, every couple is somewhat defined by their first fight and this here was ours. Aside from the obvious fact that our first fight was sullied by its revolving around someone else, it was a pretty good argument. Hands flew up, shoulders were given chilled, and doors were slammed. William tried to play mediator but eventually gave up. Alistair finally yielded when I played the 'support me, jackass, I'm your girlfriend' card.

Fyi, if you're wondering how my 'budget' is panning out, I have been living on a meager two thousand per week. I mean, I've found myself forced into a this OR that mentality. As any sassy black character on a racially exploitative sitcom would say, that ain't right! Ladies of the Upper East Side are trained to think in a this AND that psyche. Take that away and the only point of difference between us and common folk are that we're good looking, well educated, well spoken and never have bad breath. Oh woe is me! Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go and spread some truth-based fabrications about my former friend, Laura.



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