I woke up this morning and something just didn't seem right.
There wasn't a strange man in my bed or anything, but something was just off. It was in the middle of my shower that I realized what was missing.

The fact that I am not famous.

Now don't get me wrong. I'm not completely unknown. There are a few websites (big ones even) where you can see a picture of my smiling face. But as it stands, Kathy Griffin is more famous than I am and this is a situation that needs to be rectified immediately. For fucks sake, paparazzi were lined up to see Paris Hilton getting out of jail, instead of waiting outside my apartment for me! I'll also have you know, that while Paris was getting out of jail, you all missed a great photo op of me sleeping and drooling on myself. You snooze you lose, bitches.

So, I've decided to make some lifestyle changes that will push me into the upper echelon of famous people. They are, as follows.

1. I have decided to stop wearing underpants immediately. I don't care if its -30, in the middle of winter and I still live in Chicago. No underwear. This has worked for really famous people more than once, and my doctor has assured me that it's unlikely I'll catch something riding on the metra sans underpants.

2. I will get drunk at wildly inappropriate times. I do, however, refuse to vomit on myself. However, expect to see me stumbling over myself with a blood alcohol level that rivals my IQ.

3. I will develop a drug problem that is obvious to everyone, and somehow manage to convince my mother that I'm really sober, despite the pictures of me and some unidentified female getting higher than Robert Downy Jr on a bender in a bathroom.

4. I will never actually work, but somehow people will pay me a lot of money for being beautiful.

5. I will start a bitch fight with some cute blonde for shits and giggles. This person will be less famous than me and will somehow be a threat to the awesomeness that is my image. I will then crush her under my stiletto.

6. I will wear ridiculous shoes all the time. Four inches will be the height of the smallest heel I own, and I will wear them everywhere. Grocery shopping, the gym, you name it.

7. I will stop wearing makeup outside the house during the day to make sure that you can all see that I look like I was hit in the face with a shovel when I don't wear makeup.

8. I will bring my Pomeranian, Zoe, with me wherever I go. Because she's my baby.

9. I will change my hair color more than is reasonable, or logical.

10. I will get a nose job. Despite the fact that my nose is just fine the way it is, I will have the entire thing overhauled.

11. I will never eat again. Ever. Size zero, here I come! And when I ultimately get treatment for my eating disorder, I will bulk up to a size two. No larger.

12. I will have whirlwind romances with various attractive men I've never heard of simply because they make a better accessory than a purse. I will eventually become engaged when I find one whose name I can't pronounce.

13. I will allow you to take pictures of me while I go shopping. Specifically grocery shopping, to make you all think that I've actually eaten since 1992.

14. I will go to high profile places and then try to hide under my coat, because like my dog, if I hide my face, you can't see me.

15. I will make sure that my best friend is famous as well. We will have some falling out, and to ensure that we both remain famous, I will become very good friends with Perez Hilton.

16. I will drive my car as much as possible to increase the chances of you following me home so you can stalk me there. Don't say I never worked with you.

See, loyal reader, the effort I am going to put forth to make myself famous for you? Now all I ask in return is that you start following me everywhere and taking pictures of me so I can whine about it.

Is that so much to ask?

Paris Hilton better watch out, there's a new bitch in town.

So I've gotten a few emails wondering where the hell I've been.

I wish I had some awesome answer for you. I've just been a lazy bitch, and haven't had much to say. True story.

Nothing is really new or exciting.

My car is a piece of shit, but this is not news. The last month alone I've spent in the neighborhood of $2,000 in repairs. Again. I might not know much about much, but I do know that $2,000 a month could get me a very nice new car. Nicer than a 2000 Malibu that won't fucking run ever.

I'm looking into some cute fast little cars that fit my personality (read: they look good with their top down and are relatively cheap).
If anyone has any suggestions, feel free!

Also, I'm probably going to start writing for NewsQuake.
Yep, pretty soon you won't be able to go anywhere on the Internet without me.
It's good to be queen.

My apologies.
I was going to sit here and write about my last date, but it looks like you have to go to Intelligent Humor for that.

Ive gotten a lot of great emails and IMs of people concerned about my health. Thanks so much guys. A special shout out to the devout Christians who want to lay hands and let Jesus heal me. That's definitely an offer one doesn't get every day, considering I live in an apartment building that's predominantly Hispanic, if anyone named Jesus lays a hand anywhere on me, they're getting maced.

I've gotten a few unofficial diagnoses. The good news: It's absolutely for sure not cancer. Woot. The bad news? They really don't 100% know what it is. And to be honest, I am tired. I'm really tired of feeling like shit, I'm tired of being tired. I'm tired of spending the better part of my life in doctors offices so they can tell me they just don't know.

What I do know is that by following the advice of one doctor, I bled all over my mother's bathroom. The advice of another broke me out in hives. The advice of another damn near killed me. Another put me on four times the dose of steroids I'm normally on.

I've been sliced and diced and poked and prodded and I just can't do it anymore.

Furthermore, I don't have health insurance. I can't afford to keep going to the doctor. Its been dipping into the rent money, which is hard enough to come by, and to be honest, I can't afford to pay for specialists and all that shit if they can't give me an answer.
This entire endeavor has cost me well into the thousands, and I'm not at a point in life where an expenditure like that is acceptable without some sort of result, and there's not exactly a line of wealthy old men waiting to pay my medical bills.

I know that medical science isn't perfect. However, it's not cheap either. So, I'm not dying. That's all I really know.

Thanks for all the love and concern guys.
Here's hoping that Zombie Hips are in this summer, cause it looks like its here to stay.