i’m sitting in my bed, drinking a glass of delicious red wine, curled up in a furry target blanket, with the sound of my dad hollering in the background. ‘cause i live at home. i’m typing this while i watch gossip girl for the 800th time (get with it) and wondering.. wtf am i doing with my life?
you see, i’ve always been the girl with a vision. fancy car, hot husband, insanely big job title, nannies to care for my children. bangin bod, travel on the regular, and so rich it’s just disgusting. alas, i’m so broke i live at home, eating my parent’s food and using their hot water until my mom complains. listening to them spend 30 minutes debating which beach is the featured beach on apple tv’s screensaver. it’s fucking riveting.
so i’m sitting here watching gossip girl, feeling like dan is probably equivalent to the richest person i’ve ever known (please someone tell me how a poor, washed-up rockstar can afford a massive loft in DUMBO???) and even he is the scum of the earth in NYC. where does that leave me? an extra in the background? lollll.
i mean seriously the wealth in this show fucked me up for a goddamn lifetime. i will never be satisfied. nothing can please me when i’m not living blair waldorf‘s life to the fullest. the dripping gold, diamonds, flowers – the SHOES i mean just the freaking shoes i would die for. sign me up for all this drama i do not give a flying fuck, if this is what i get in exchange. sure their lives are depressing as shit but at least they’re crying on a private jet and not in the poorly lit bathroom at work.
and another note, someone wanna tell me how these girls found such insanely hot guys?! YES EVERYONE I KNOW ITS A TV SHOW please tell me why they’re trying to ruin my expectations for my own life with these gorgeous, rich guys who are obsessed with their girlfriends. i can’t even get my dog to hang out in the same room as me, let alone a human being of the opposite sex. LET ALONE a human being as gorgeous as freaking chase crawford and ed westwick (post-season 3, duh).
also, everyone is skinny. sure, scary skinny, but tell me one time you saw a character work out (other than season 1 when nate goes running with his dad and the guy from dartmouth, of course). they all go to these fancy restaurants and eat pastries for a living while i’m concerned about whether or not i’m in the window of allowed eating time and googling if butter is a carb.
i’m just trying to say that i feel like an epic failure when i look at the lives of these fake rich people (and shoutout to the hills comeback for just continuing that mood) and trying to figure out what i am doing wrong in my life that i’m not living like that. yeah, i already know money isn’t everything, that’s what poor people say, so just go away.
maybe it’s where i live. i mean really, everything interesting happens in an actual city. not in the suburbs 30 miles outside of a relatively interesting city. when’s the last time a sexy, rich tv series was set in fairfax, virginia? never cause it could not be a more boring place to exist, i’m serious. people would watch the show and start protesting the city’s general existence and lameness.
i get that my lifestyle is definitely not helping me to create this dream life since i spend about 90% of my free time in my bed, or drunk. or drunk in my bed. wow, lame. i mean seriously, it’s not like i’m out there going to galas or meeting attractive people at bars i go to alone (how does serena make this look cool and i still make it look insanely sad?). i think my general laziness plays an awfully big role in my discomfort in all aspects of life. will i change? never.
and on that note, i am going to continue the nap i took at my desk today and head to sleep, dreaming of a world where chase crawford shows up at my door, whisks me away to la and then actually i meet a super rich and hot and famous athlete that i end up marrying. you know, always shoot for newer, better goals.
hfp 