What's a Diet?

^ Terrified of his dietitian. 

^ Terrified of his dietitian. 

So apparently I'm on some excersise regime with my sisters. We've all been shot down and smacked in the face with a health kick, but instead of us all getting back up, my mind stayed on the ground weeping. I love food, feasting brings me joy that nothing else compares to. It's like the synapses in my brain literally explode from excitement when a plate of crunchy french fries slides in front of me. Ugh, but here we go, mmmm vegetables and exercise. I'll commit, but only if I can continue my weekly getaways to nummy restaurants where I become engulfed in flavors. So last night, to celebrate my Mother's visit, my roommate and I went to 44&X. I was feeling naughty and ordered: Roasted Chicken with Rosemary and Garlic on a bed of Mashed Potatoes and Asparagus, smothered in Gravy. As soon as the first forkful hit my lips I died. I felt like Anton Ego in 'Ratatouille', blown back to memory lane, enjoying the homemade roast chicken that my mother used to make back in the day. After that I made the executive decision to order dessert. Diet's are for those who constantly say 'no'. I say 'Yes, hello chicken!'. Never again will I deny my taste buds from the dishes of the divine. That I promise. 

If you want your mouth to water, click HUNGRY and your world will never be the same. 

Do it, you won't...

Comfort Is Key

There's nothing I love more than living in a 4th floor walk up. My roommates and I whisper, "momentum" under our breath during the climb for encouragement. By the time we reach the summit, our heart rates are through the roof and we pant like overheated dogs. During the winter, you'd think that it'd be a nice warm up to defrost our little toes, but entering a sauna out of breath isn't ideal. Turn down the heat you say? Well, the thermometer gives us an accommodating choice of sweltering or arctic, the best solution is to open the window every few hours to let in a gust of pollution filled air, that stings something fierce. You can't prepare yourself for the temperatures here, as if the world around us is constantly transforming, 'House Of Leaves' anyone?

"House Of Leaves" by Mark Z. Danielewski - READ IT

"House Of Leaves" by Mark Z. Danielewski - READ IT

Happy Valentines Day Infidels.


Mmmm Valentines Day, one of the happiest days of the year. Where public displays of affection are common and so are the suicides... Celebrate your relationships with a long walk in Central Park, hand in hand as you receive eskimo kisses from your significant other. You'll continue on your picturesque walk, ignoring the swarms of unfortunates pecking at your feet, searching for any love left behind. You'll stomp on the tears of the single ladies, and aid in destroying the livers of the men, because you're in love. You've won, you're the ones who planned ahead. To be single on Valentines Day is like the face of a newly announced father on Jerry Springer. Whether you like it or not, you're screwed. So kids play it safe, and wait a week or so before you break it off, because "It's not you, It's me."

Hey Lil Mama Lemme Whisper In Your Ear

Just wanted to do a quick shout out today, for all the dirty horn bags that I wish I could tie down, you're doing it right. Man, every time I walk down 7th avenue, I look forward to our secret whisper conversations. I love the way you inch towards me and quickly lean in to say I'm beautiful. Everyday you guys get closer to earning a fine woman, with you're flirtatious banter. Oh you gentlemen you, I dream of the day I get to hang off your arm on the corner, while we stand by a hotdog trolley and speak of important worldly issues, such as that white girls fat ass as she innocently makes her way through the human cluster-fuck. I want to be you're girl. I want to wear multicolored leggings, a cropped faux fur jacket and white leather knee high boots. I want to swap gum with you after you're brother insists we share a hotdog from his stand. I want to spend my endless hours of free time, gawking at the passing. If only you knew, maybe one day we'll be together... 

Worry not, they'll be back. #wgw

Unfortunately, White Girls Week has come to a close. I can only hope that my message has helped all who have stumbled across Monsoon in the past week. I felt the need to address the dire situation of the crazies and make it known to all, that they're not what meets the eye. I've laid out a guidebook that in turn will aid mankind, and in wishful thinking have ripped off the theoretical, oversized rose colored glasses off the faces of the naive. I've focused your vision into the horrid depths that this race has brought. Now we all know, that the infamous, sinical breed of the common White Girl will in fact be the villains of the ever approaching apocalypse. 

So minions, please. Go forth and spread the word. FAST. They're only catching up. We must gather our human troops and take back the joys of coffee, because originally, it was ours.  


I <3 comments

An alternate way of identifying a White Girl is by using the world wide web, where not only is stalking accepted but encouraged. White girls love to address their feelings and share them with the copious amounts of friends they don't know, but have taken on board. Status updates are used to define their personality, there are multiple categories in which the bitches fall. Some like to pick obvious targeted fights but keep it vague, to avoid direct conflict, others fish for attention with "I'm ugly" posts and surprisingly get comments. Then you've got to accommodate the ones who believe they're above the drama of middle school and complain about nit picky posters, when in fact they're one in the same. There are the avid travelers "I can't wait to escape this town and get away from all these people", the song lyric selfies 🎶, and the broken hearted "I thought you were the one :/". All posted for one reason. Comments. The reapers feed off the compliments and reassurance of others, that's all they desire. It's what gets them through their "gym day!", or "hospital :(" visits. Whoever has time to update their feed while in the hands of a doctor needs some serious help, and Facebook isn't where they'll get it. 




On wednesdays, we wear pink

I'm going to save you guys, by painting a quick, yet thorough picture of your classic white girl. Just so you can be aware. Now we have two stages of the species, these little balls of fury usually begin at the ripe age of 12. The middle schoolers are the worst breed, they're nasty little devils that project an innocent facade that will ruin you. These normally begin with the straightening of their already straight hair, clipped with a bow. You won't see them in anything but black leggings or skinny blue jeans, paired with an oversized tee, that's defiled with some sort of pink graphic, and obvi a black North Face. For footwear, the only acceptable shoe is a mid calf Ugg, preferably the classic brown, only the leaders or the brave mix it up. 

Once out of middle school they alter their get up a little, but mostly stick to the same uniform. Again, black leggings or skinny blue jeans, is a must. They now pair it with a loose singlet to show off their boobs, or an oversized tee placed off the shoulder. Their main purpose is to entice their prey with visuals of skin, the more they show, the more they get #duh. North Face's are still appropriate, unless they're trying to spice it up and can afford it, they'll pop on a Barbour courtesy of Daddy's Amex. Also, if Uggs aren't their thing anymore they'll switch to either, tall brown leather boots - most likely Frye - or L.L.Bean sheepskin moccasins. 

There's your classic basic bitch attire, but as I mentioned before: DO NOT BE FOOLED BY THEIR FACES. The amount of icing that's hiding the imperfections on a cake, does not make it taste good. 

Buttons = main bitch.

Buttons = main bitch.

I'm Not Even Drunk


As much as the bitches like to shop, come sundown it's a different story. Black, skin tight mini dresses paired with 5inch heels and an orange kissed glow, they be looking fierce. They alternate hosting parties on the weekends, well whoever has the biggest party house does, not just anything will suffice. These girls kill for the best, like ravishing beasts, they'll tear you limb from limb, especially when intoxicated. On saturday nights, you'll hear a hum of their chants, "SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS!" followed by a few tears, an "I'M NOT EVEN DRUNK!", then screams of happiness? Its a fucking roller coaster, drinking with White Girls, I'm sure you've all witnessed someone who's been White Girl Wasted, there's no coming back from that. It's like watching an image of beauty transform into a sweaty she wolf. After they cross the fine line, they don't give a fuck about what they look like. Once the screeches, and attempts to twerk commence they're done, cause the nearest douche bag is about to take them home.