Tag Archives: drunk

shoe trouble

posted by:  audra

i didn’t think it was going to happen there for awhile, but! i have finally taken my beloved shoes into my favorite cobbler.  i attempted to take my broken, beloved shoes to the cobbler.  last night i went out of my way to drop off all of my precious cargo to be repaired.  well, three pairs at least.  and it was fucking closed.  againthis is the third time in a row that this has happened to me.  their hours on the door state that they are open until 6:00pm every night.  and every time i show up shortly after 5:00pm, there is a sign on the door saying “will return at 9:00am”  fucking hell!  are you fucking kidding me with this shit?  to make it worse, i’ve called.  and called.  and called their number & just gotten the answering machine–and this is even during normal business hours.  so i’m pissed.  i have no cute shoes to wear, & am in total panic about what shoes i could possibly wear on to go out with on saturday.

i did this to myself.  had i taken them in, one by one, as the heel pads crumbled, or even as the metal started to show, this could have been prevented.  but now, all my good shoes are fucked & i’m upset.

i could have taken in ten, & probably should have, but that will have to be another time.  that’s too many at once, ten.  just the three pairs alone scares me…one of which are my babies, the red marc jacobs that i lament over constantly.  the other two pairs have been broken for ever.  forever.  a weitzman & a fairly inexpensive square-toed joey o, both stilettos.

typically i’m not wild about weitzman shoes, what with all that bling & tack all over them, but these are perfect, pointy, black stilettos that i’ve had for years, and the heel has cracked once again.  also, the lining is falling apart.  and the joey o’s?  i got them for probably less than $100 like….four or five years ago.  i got them right before a birthday, & in typical new-shoe-fashion, i proceeded to get drunk one evening whilst galloping around the house in them.  “breaking them in”, i call it.  i then remember getting the brilliant idea of making one of my favorite dishes–buttered pasta with tons of kosher salt–right after midnight, as it was now officially my birthday.  i had romantic visions of sitting my then-much-thinner-ass down on the couch & devouring my pasta while staring at my shoes…and i’m pretty sure i was watching the beautiful girls dvd on repeat.  anyway, i peeled around the corner in the kitchen, probably scrambling for some butter, & one of the heels snapped off.

just like that.

it was a clean break.

i was so pissed.  and on my birthday!  ridiculous!  they were fairly cheap though.  and the heel was plastic.  plastic!  not even coated with leather!  anyway, i was so pissed that i threw them in my closet after only one wear & they haven’t seen the light of day until now.  even though they’re several years old, they are still really cute.  very smart looking, these are.  so, we’ll see how long they last at the hands of my cobbler.

my cobbler is a funny little man.  he looks exactly the way one would imagine a cobbler:  kind of short, old, long grey hair, round glasses…except this one smokes a lot of pot.  every time i go in there it’s like hotboxing.  sort of like tommy chong & geppetto from pinocchio had a baby & the baby opened a shoe repair shop.    the narcotic indulgence is fine with me–if one is at home, or hanging out with friends or something–but not when you’re holding a hammer & nail to my $500 shoes, thank you.  maybe it steadies his hands…?  eases his arthritis to get into the fine leather-work details of my footwear?  so far, no mistakes.  he does a beautiful job refurbishing where the back of the heel has become scuffed from driving & resoling where i’ve walked many a drunken step on cobbled sidewalks & gotten the heel lodged in a crack.

there are just two instances thus far where i thought i was going to have to hurt him:  the first was when the stitching was coming undone from the zipper pull on my large coach handbag.  i took it in to him, and a couple days later, it was ready.  i had sam go pick it up for me, but he couldn’t find it right away.  in fact, i believe he said it “wasn’t here”.  sam told him that it was a “big, black, leather handbag?  you redid the zipper pull?”  finally, after digging through stacks & stacks of bulky plain brown paper bags, he found it.  crisis averted.

the second time, i had taken in some nice michael kors heels.  not terribly high-end, but i love them & have had him resole them several times.  i went in to pick them up, the night i had to wear them.  i handed him my ticket and he said they weren’t ready.  he said, “oh, no, no.  those are gonna take me a few days.  i had to unscrew the heel & order a special fitting for them.  try back on tuesday.”

i was furious.  i barked at him spitting, “um, you told me you’d have them ready!  tonight!  by 4pm!  i need them tonight, and this is bullshit about unscrewing the heels.   you’ve worked on them before, and i’ve never had a problem.  just give me the shoes & i’ll take them elsewhere.  i’m not paying for your services.”

he held up the most hideous skank-deluxe strappy prom shoes i’ve ever seen…believing them to be mine.

i said, “those are not mine.   mine are the black pumps with studs?”

“oh…THOSE!  yes, of course!  they’re right here.  i just got done polishing them.  here you go.”

“oh!  they look purrfect.  thank  you so much.  have a great night!”

again with the pot-smoking during work hours!  jesus christ!  i almost had a shoe-aneurysm!   in a bad way!

his prices have gone up considerably since i started going to him a number of years ago, but his quality is well worth it.  currently, he’s charging $25 per pair for a new heel pad & half-sole, complete with a little metal tack in the toe to help prevent excess wear there, too…which is still ridiculously cheap compared to a new, $400 or $500 shoe.   i consider my shoes to be my children, so it’s kind of like taking them to the pediatrician; the little metal tack thing acting as a booster shot.  i’m a little hesitant, though, about the marc jacobs repair.  they’re my favorites, & they’ve never had to make a trip to the shoe doctor.  and now my shiny manolos are ruined, too.  however will he make the dull silver on the back of the heel gleam again?!  will he fuck up the suede leopard print lining?  oh jesus, i think my head may explode.  i’m shallow & materialistic like that.

so, wish me luck!  or, better yet, wish geppetto-chong-the-shoe-guy luck.   he fucks up & disfigures one of my babies, i’ll be driving one of those little shoe nails through his forehead.  if i can ever get in the fucking door.

i’ll keep you posted.

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halloween in july & public urination

posted by:  audra

inhale deeply, babycakes!  do you smell that?  yes, that!  it’s sweat!  probably inner-thigh sweat!  and gunpowder!  or whatever the fuck they put into firecrackers!  resonating off of the stupid fucks who still think it’s awesome to be igniting fireworks well after independence day has taken place.  jesus.  i was fucking dying in the heat last week & i hate the fourth of july & i can’t wait for summer to be over already. and i can’t wait for the crumb-snatchers to get back to school.   i mean, jesus christ!  and i really am looking forward to those fall days where the sun is juuust going down at like 6:00 & you need your sweater to carve pumpkin trannies on your patio before watching sorority house massacre (1 or 2…both are excellent) for the fifth time whilst drinking pumpkin beer on the couch.  you know what i mean?  sigh…

you may be surprised to learn that the fourth of july used to be my favorite holiday.  it was.  believe it!  i was young…a tender 17 at best, and lived for it.  you know why?  because it was right in the midst of summer when it starts getting really hot.  the hotter the better, i thought.  god, what a moron i was.  now, if it gets over 70 degrees, i spazz out & develop hives (really!).  but when i was younger, even 98 wasn’t hot enough.

i would lay out in the sun forever…sometimes all day, on the roof.  and sometimes i would purposely burn myself…which wasn’t hard to do anyway, what with my fair, easy-to-burn complexion.  i thought that if i got just a slight burn, that it would make my skin more likely to tan the next time around(?!).  and then i would hit the tanning bed in the evening, just to be sure.  so gross.  it ended up just giving me tons of freckles & prematurely aging skin.  tanning is bad shit, kids!

whoa…what was that all about?!  anyway, your most beloved blog has been neglected as of late.  i’m sorry.  how is it you’ve been able to carry on?!  to satiate you, i’ll give you a few highlights from the recent past…stuff that happened & valuable nuggets of knowledge that i learned:

  • i peed in a cemetery.  i did.  in broad daylight & not even behind a tree.
  • i got drunk in said cemetery.  with my parents.  on courvoisier.  during a memorial service.  in 100 degree heat.  it was awesome.
  • sam & i drunkenly devoured cold fried chicken in my mom & dad’s driveway at midnight on saturday after frenzied, secretive chain-smoking.
  • we discovered we are indeed capable of 3-day benders.
  • surprisingly, the bender & being at my parents house are unrelated.
  • …in one instance, sam & i drank continuously for 25 hours straight.  vodka, beer, tequila and wine.  not one person out of the four of us was sick or fell down.  i’m impressed.
  • i ruined the heel on one of my betsey johnson booties during said bender.
  • i peed outside on a gravel road in the middle of nowhere.  again.  and managed to splatter my shoes.  again.
  • i bought a leopard print handbag with a gold chain at a yard sale for $3. i will probably never use it.
  • i learned that my great-great grandfather was an immigrant from sweden.
  • …and that my great-grandfather only had a 3rd grade education, but was very successful as the head of immigration & naturalization for oregon, washington & idaho.
  • it’s official:  i am allergic to sun.  i sat in the sun two weekends in a row & both times broke out in terrible, itchy welts & hives.  it was gross.  they’re gone now, but the freckles will take years to fade.  damn it.
  • i am on my fourth augusten burroughs book in about a month.  i’m in love with his writing…and i may even say that i like him more than sedaris(!).  i know…blasphemy.  but he’s so fucking amazing & hilarious & tragic.  i can’t believe we’ve owned several of his books for years & are just now cracking open the covers.
  • foreign horror films are a gabillion times better than american horror films, as you learned from watching them, of course.  we just watched a german thriller called antibodies (antikörper) that was over two hours long…and didn’t turn it off.  a lot of blood, a little sex, some pedophilia & plenty of nail-biting scenes.  lovely…just lovely.
  • i have purchased a new journal.  it’s black & looks like a bible, only without words & a cross & a mostly-naked hipster on the cover.  i read through one of my old journals the other night & realized that i’m not bad at writing…at least when i want to be.  i had written some “poetry” that actually kind of blew my mind a little bit!  either way, this new journal will no doubt soon possess some wicked awesome tales to help fill in my memoirs later.  get excited.
  • i’m pretty sure i’ve gained back at least the two pounds i had lost.  i’m afraid to weigh myself.  i’ve consumed nothing but booze, burgers, hot dogs, fried chicken & pizza the past week.  oh, and pigs in a blanket courtesy of the florida room.  how very american of me.

and there you have it!  i think that’s all.  i don’t know about you all, but i plan on milking this 68-degrees-in-july business for as long as i can.  perhaps i’ll pick up some pumpkin beer tonight, pull on a sweater, pretend it’s october & dig out sorority house massacre , just for fun…

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queers, five years & saturday’s mistake: the conclusion

posted by:  audra

i was so starving & pissed at this point, & had consumed enough wine that i snapped.  mid-shot, i interrupted his photo-taking & hissed, “excuse me, are you going to be doing that all night?” i did!  i totally hissed!  he then of course apologized profusely & noted that he was taking blurry shots for the website & that i would definitely not be in any other shots.  whatever!  you’re still annoying the fuck out of me!  but he did move, & i didn’t see him for the rest of the night.  good work, audra.  good work.

entrees finally arrive & my thighs start sweating:   i ordered the grilled leg of lamb with green herb yogurt, chick pea fritters & a salad of orange & fennel…sam got the grilled sirloin with shallot butter, roof greens & fries.  we weren’t very impressed about the fries part…couldn’t they come up with something a bit more swank?  at least serve them in a cute little cup like this place does?  whatever!  everything was fairly good; except that sam’s meat was a little overdone.  actually, a lot overdone.   and if sam thinks it’s overdone, it’s way overdone.  my lamb was a little on the cool side, too.  it seems to me that they were leaving entrees out to rest too long before serving them.  again with the under-staffing issue!  anyway, the wine we chose to have with dinner was perfect…and oopsies, i have no idea what it was!  i wasn’t all that impressed with the wine-list either.  this being a wine place, you’d think i would be…but 6 years working in the wine industry, i’m hard to please when it comes to wine lists.  maybe it was just the by-the-glass list i wasn’t impressed with.  hmm.  whatevs.  i’m probably just being a bitch.

we did dessert & paid our check quickly…as oddly enough a really weird guy that we sort of know was seated less than a foot away from me, with his date.  she was really pretty & i have no idea what the fuck she was doing with him.  clearly she’s an idiot!  he spent the whole time texting while she sat & stared at her drink.  we don’t know this guy well, only through a friend of ours, and have only been around him twice.  but he’s a real loser & thinks he’s some big fucking treat.   i’ve witnessed him giving pcp to a friend when said friend thought it was just a regular joint.  anyway!   i can’t stand him.  he’s bad news.  luckily, we hadn’t seen him in a few years so he didn’t recognize us before we split.  so! close!

walking back to the car, i stumbled a few times.  i did.  what the fuck!?  i had four glasses of wine total, over the course of maybe 3 hours.  that’s nothing to me!  that’s just warming up!  whatever… i shrugged it off & got into the passenger seat.

not 3 blocks down the street & i have to ask sam to pull over.  i know i’m not going to be sick or anything gross like that, but i just could not be in the car.  super dizzy, you guys!  seriously!  do i need to remind you i only had 4 glasses of wine?!  so he drops me off in this parking lot, & i literally stumble over to the curb.  i can’t believe i didn’t fall down or scuff my shoes or something!  i was totally fucked up!  whoopsies!

i sat for a couple minutes, looking at my shoes, hoping i wouldn’t be sick on them, wondering why in the world i was so drunk & finally teetered my way back to the car.  it was so horrible!  i don’t think i’ve staggered so much, even in my drunkest drunkenness ever!  once i did make it back into the car, i was totally fine.  my drunkenness seemed to disperse as quickly as it had come on.  weird, right?!  i blame it on the one glass i had at le bar de skeeze earlier!  what else could it have possibly been?!   i just don’t know…but something fucked me up beyond recognition, as i went to bed at 11:00 that night.  eleven o’clock!  not my usual 4am antics, no!  eleven o’clock.  believe it.

i can say that there is something good that came out of my going to bed totally yet accidentally wasted at 11 on a saturday night:  i got up before noon sunday morning.  this never, ever happens & i’m kinda proud of myself!  this allowed us to watch all three of our netflix films in one day!  before dark!  this week’s was a fag themed one:  three of hearts, divine trash & the boys in the band.

three of hearts was kinda…meh.  i was real excited for it; documentary – one gay couple married to a woman, so they have this hot threesome thing going on, even though none of the three are really all that hot.  anyway, the woman gets pregnant at the beginning of the doc & they pretty much ruin it with that.  it’s mostly baby stuff from there on out, so i lost interest.

divine trash.  john waters documentary.   enough said!  get it!  i’m hoping to do some geneology maybe sometime real soon &  find out that john is my uncle.  wouldn’t that be rad?!

the boys in the band is fucking uh-mazing!  i’m super-embarrassed that we hadn’t seen it yet!  it’s super-intense & done in what feels like real time…like you’re there hanging out with them without any missing blocks of time, you know?  it’s like queer as folk & who’s afraid of virginia woolf? had a baby & it’s brilliant.  love, love, love.   in fact, as soon as it was over, i had to pop in virginia woolf because boys had put me in such a tizzy for it.  get the boys in the band right this very second, it will totally change your life!

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queers, five years & saturday’s mistake: part one

posted by:  audra

good evening, my little tartlettes!  i do hope you all had a swell weekend.  and since you’ve been biting your nails down to the quick in anticipation of what we did over our weekend, i’ll tell you — but this will have to be done in segments because gossip girl is on tonight & we all want to see what happens!

friday night was lame.  it was supposed to be part two of this, just for the lush list, & that didn’t happen.  but she hasn’t been blogging lately (shame!) so i don’t think she’ll notice anyway, right?  sigh!  no, friday night was for drinking & i can honestly say i have no recollection of what we even did for dinner that night.  it’s completely gone.  i do however, remember scanning in a whole bunch of pictures from like 9 years ago, uploading them onto facebook & then promptly deleting them out of embarrassment.  i did put that polaroid up for you, though (you’re welcome).  that night was the night of one of the best parties ever, and happened to be my marc jacobs shoe debut.  2003.  yes.  sigh…so young, so young.  and just so you know, i do have totally normal hands…even though my left one in the photograph looks like a paw.  it was just bad posing on my part.  at least i kept my legs together!  holla!

saturday was our five year wedding anniversary.  believe it.  don’t worry though — we’re not gross like that!  we did not do the traditional anniversary gift exchange like most couples do (the five-year one = wood.  smirk!), nor did we exchange stupid cards or anything lame like that.  i did not get pissed when sam came home without flowers in his hand.  no.  we’d planned on purchasing tickets to pj & john parish, which is happening very, very soon-ish & i’m asking baby jesus not to sell out of them before we get around to actually making this purchase because we’re lazy & didn’t really get around to it this weekend.

sigh!  anyway!  sam & i slept in a bit, chain-smoked on the patio & after completing an extensive menu for the evening (anthony bordain’s haricot verts & asparagus, seared filet mignon, & lobster with endive & maybe a pavlova – maybe), we decided to go out.  it was sort of warm outside & i wasn’t thrilled about searing bloody meat over high heat indoors.  i get hot.  you understand.  i also wanted to avoid frolicking off to the store as much as possible…so, we agreed upon this place, since embarrassingly enough, neither of us had ever been.  i wasn’t in the mood for stuffiness & definitely not in the mood for assholes, so this seemed perfect.

if we left the house early enough, one would think there would be no need to make reservations, right?  i mean, who eats dinner at 5:30?  but 5:30 turned into 6:30, which turned to 7:00.  i had a major makeup-meltdown in the bathroom when i was about 10 minutes away from being completely ready & almost cried.  i threw makeup brushes at the closed bathroom door.  i had wicked cramps.   blood was gushing out of my vagina & i was thoroughly convinced i was having a quintuplet miscarriage.  and i was out of advil and super-plus tampons.  fuck!  normally, this would be a complete disaster…but after my little tantrum, i pulled it together & managed to leave the house without any real drama.

we arrive at our destination, & it’s.  totally.  packed.  with a wait-list at least 7 parties deep.  jesus christ…really!  it’s after 7pm on a saturday & mama needs a drank.  my general impression of the crowd-corralling wasn’t good.  the owner checked us in & acted like a college student hostess in her first week on the job.  no one really knew what was going on & it was tough to even get a time estimate out of her for which to rest upon.  a youngish boy then checked on us & said it will be 30-40 minutes, so we settled on going someplace else for a drink whilst we wait.

i thought i had been to the worst bar ever, until this place.  i won’t name names, but just know that it’s housed in the space that was formerly the chesterfield.  perhaps it was the three skeezed-out meth heads sitting at the bar, or the really inept barmaid, but the second i stepped in the door, i wanted to leave.  typically i don’t get really creeped out by places, but this one made me feel like something terrible had happened there.  i’m guessing a tall, hairy man with a prosthetic arm ripped off his plastic limb to rape a young, stringy, blonde thing with before he bludgeoned her to death with it.   in the bathroom, probably.  again, just guessing…but i’m usually pretty good at this stuff.  anyway!  moving on…

as soon as we order our drinks, i know it’s trouble.  first i asked for a wine list, as i see the other patrons have wine in front of them.   bartender looks confused.  “uhmm…..” she picks up a menu.  scans it.  turns it over.  more reading, squinting…  “oh!  it says to check the chalkboard.” hmm.  really?  wouldn’t you know that already if you’d been employed here for…i don’t know, an hour?!  i walked to the other end of the bar where the chalk board resides — nowhere near the entrance or where you would normally order  — and i asked for a glass of pinot noir, which turned out to be opened for too long.  i should have had her open another bottle, but i didn’t have the patience for that either.  i really just should have gotten a safe beer like sam did!  sigh!  so, we settle our tab & it takes foreverrrrr

oh my god!  what happens next?!  come back tomorrow for part two, my buttery little lamb chops!  until then, kisses on your sticky bits.

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weekend update in the form of self-diagnosis

posted by:  audra

another painful monday, yet again.  i am functioning on 4 hours of sleep.  four hours! i really have no idea how i was able to get myself out of bed this morning…sam & i really tied one on yesterday/last night!  and we didn’t even go out; our sunday consisted of sleeping till 1:00, lazing about for a few hours, pounding enough water to cancel out the alcohol from the night before, & then drink commencement.  in the drunken cloud of sunday, we managed an embarrassing round of scrabble (embarrassing for me, anyway), the making of this awesome culinary invention, & watching a semi-naughty movie that kept the gusset of my non-existent knickers moist for the entire 90 minutes of the film.

more drinking ensued.  still drinking well after midnight, & in anticipation of getting up at 5:30, i started to panic.  because i know it sucks to be at work incredibly hungover, tired, nauseated…sigh.  this is not new to me.  but this going to bed at 1am, drunk, on a sunday night, is.

usually it’s more like midnight, which is entirely different.

so, sam & i like to drink.  a lot.  so what?  we have always stood firmly on the belief that we know we are not alcoholics because of these things:

*we don’t drink to escape.  we drink because drinking is fun & makes us more fun to be around.  everyone benefits!

*we have concluded that if we really wanted to, we could each stop drinking at any time & not go through withdrawals.  we wouldn’t be as fun or social, but it is possible.

*we do not wake up in the morning & start hitting the bottle of ketel one.

*we drink ketel.

*we don’t take shots or drink our vodka straight from a large plastic cup like the poor pathetic addicts on intervention do.

*only champagne causes us to fight, & only once has it resembled a scene out of who’s afraid of virginia woolf?.

*we don’t drink for the sole purpose of getting drunk.  although it happens frequently, we just enjoy drinking just for the drinking part.

but then i got to thinking…does all this make us functioning alcoholics?!  i wasn’t all that familiar with the term – other than tossing it around with a smirk every now & then – so i did some investigation work.

courtesy of google, a random “medical” website & the help of  my vodka-soaked brain, i learned that a high-functioning alcoholic is such:

An HFA (high-functioning alcoholic)  is an alcoholic who is able to maintain his or her outside life, such as a job, home, family, and friendships, all while drinking alcoholically. HFAs have the same disease as the stereotypical “skid-row” alcoholic, but it manifests or progresses differently. Many HFAs are not viewed by society as being alcoholic, because they have succeeded and over-achieved throughout their lifetimes. These achievements often lead to an increase in personal denial as well as denial from colleagues and loved ones. HFAs are less apt to feel that they need treatment for their alcoholism and often slide through the cracks of the health care system, both medically and psychologically, because they are not diagnosed.

well?  there you go!  not even a high-functioning alcoholic!  if we had this dreaded disease, clearly we would be in denial.  but here i am, putting it out there & evaluating the magnitude of our drinking.  just for funsies.  or maybe that is the denial part?!  shit.  ooh, the mind quails!  discuss.

xoxo,

martha (& george)

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strike force!

posted by:  audra

what?  okay.  i got really drunk last saturday night whilst staying up till 3am working on my stupid desert island collection.  and you know what?  there’s not a whole lot of quality television on at that hour.  i was done writing for the evening & then it came to my attention how extremely intoxicated & starving i was.  i heated up something so embarrassing i can’t even mention it here, & settled down in my super-comf chaise.

after flipping around to various late-night infomercials & such, i just sort of landed on boxing.  but not like cool boxing, like douche-deluxe boxing!  and martial arts had a baby.  actually, it was mostly just shirtless guys hugging it out in a boxing ring.  the show was called strikeforce; maybe you’ve heard of it…?  i hadn’t.  and i’m a little confused about whether it should be ‘strike force’ or ‘strikeforce’.  i really don’t care.  anyway, at first i was so appalled at how ridiculous it was, i couldn’t wait to get back to my personal favorite infomercial — the gt xpress 101 cathy mitchell grill — then i couldn’t stop watching it.  man, i was that drunk!  i think it was this guy’s hair that pulled me in.  it looked so retarded, i couldn’t stop staring!

that gentleman there is josh thomson, aka ‘the punk’.  really?  i’m not sure about how ‘punk’ he is…i mean, he looks like the latin version of ken or something.  is he latin?  probably not, but whatever.  and he’s wearing calvins!  his face isn’t that bad, so i guess he’s an attractive fellow; if you like that sort of thing.  but oh god, those abs!!!  soooo grossss!  in this case, i actually think the biceps are worse than the abs.  shudder!

that’s all i have for you!  i just thought it would be nice to share this very intimate look into my homelife.  there.  don’t you feel comforted by this?

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oh, anna!

posted by:  audra

today marks the two year anniversary of anna nicole smith’s death.  sam & i absolutely adored anna, & were avid watchers of the anna nicole show…mostly because she was a total trainwreck.  but also for bobby trendy (say yes for pink!).  and for the way anna belittled her assistant: the unfortunate looking kimmie.  so entertaining.

anna was really breathtakingly beautiful before she became crazy & fat, & then  crazy & skinny.  but anyway.  let’s all just pause for a second or two to remember anna, through her good times & her not-so-good times…

…smirk!

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