Day In the Life of a Rich Party Animal

THIS IS ALL FUCKING TRUE IF YOU DON'T BELIEVE IT YOU'RE JUST A JEALOUS HATER WHO DIDN'T HAVE SLAVEHOLDING ANCESTORS TO LEAVE YOU A FORTUNE YOU DON'T DESERVE! Knew today was a big day so I took it easy last night. Only did a few lines of coke while a black hooker tried to get my dick hard never did happen. Price of doing drugs like a balla! Smoked some Caribbean Cash Kush from my Amsterdam hookup and then down ¾ of a fifth of JW Blue and hit the hay for 4 hours, just another quiet night at home. Roll out of bed at 8AM to sheets covered in blood. Oh shit another dead hooker? Nope, just one of my frequent nosebleeds. Doctors are mystified to the cause. No time for a shower, but who cares if I reek of cheap pussy and weed? Little liquid vodka breakfast and spark up a J on the way to work. Pass a couple of cops but they know who the fuck I am and just keep driving. Pull into my parking spot and get a few key bumps in before I grab the elevator to my office on the top floor. Sure I'm wearing sunglasses in a building and twitching like a kid with Tourettes but these peons don't have a clue that I use anything. They know I'm a hard charger making millions. After I kept ending up balls deep in the young hot secretaries Tad down in legal said we were gonna get sued so I got stuck with some 70 year old bag who gets pissy every time she finds me jerkin it in my office chair. Pop a couple xanax and start taking calls and making more money than most of you could ever dream of. After a good 30-35 minutes of hard work I need a break and lay out a couple of lines. Boss walks in and immediately starts bitching about not calling him in to do some too (this guy is my mentor, before I met him I didn't even know you could hide heroin in your rectum for international travel. I cannot count how many Euro trash drug dealers I had to deal with in Gstadt and Cannes). Lay out a few lines for him as we discuss some high finance you guys would not understand. He leaves to go cut me another bonus check but reminds me we need to hang out soon. It's been forever since we took his kids out on my 80ft Yacht or took turns on an Asian call girl while we shared needles. I promise him we will hang soon. Figure I need to make some weekend plans so I light up another joint and call up one of my hedge fund guys who I've known since my time at Choate. We take a few minutes to reminisce about our prep school days: banging rich sluts, doing drugs, getting drunk, experimenting sexually with each other and then pretending it didn't happen, usual teenager stuff. Since I know I can get the Gulfstream from Dad I suggest we hit up Vegas for some meth and $1000 a hand baccarat. He's already committed to partying in the Hamptons with some Russian Oligarch. Vodka and stanky Eastern European pussy, I pass. Lunchtime! Hard choices: go out and have a nice lunch, pop a Viagra and do some blow with a stripper OR shoot up some H and go jerk off in my private bathroom with a belt tied around my neck. I opt for a $500 hotel room and order up some room service and an $800 escort. Do some bong hits and I give her the best 90 seconds of her life. Bitch loved it so much she begged to do it again, even offered a $50 discount. I am a sex God! Do a few more lines before I head back to work, gotta get geared up for BUSINESS! Fire some intern for asking why I dried blood on my face. Bastard looks exactly like the last three interns I fired. Few phone calls with rich people you all know but I can't name. Then my fucking dry cleaners call to tell me they can't get the stripper vomit and men's semen out of my Versace. Seriously what the fuck? Javier doesn't give me this shit when he details my Porsche every day? I call my tailor on Savile Row to schedule a time for me to come to London and get a new suit. Smoke a little pot to calm down, everybody in the office thinks it incense, fucking idiots! Phone rings. It's Dad with some good news, his buddy the DA says they're done reviewing the tapes from my buddy Chesterfield's bachelor party. Since you can't actually see me penetrate the sheep on tape and there's no way to prove there was actual crack in the pipe I was smoking they've declined to prosecute! Thanks Dad! Seriously I appreciate all my parents have done for me but they're always asking for shit in return: “You're killing yourself, will you please stop doing drugs?” and “Jesus Christ, can you quit embarrassing our family?” or “I know you sleep with black hookers but do you have to post their pictures on Instagram?”. I mean really, can't he just die already so I can waste more of the family trust? Oh well. Got an end of the day staff meeting so I pop some Adderall to get myself keyed up. Not that it matters, none of these idiots could possibly tell that I come to work messed up out of my mind. Boring meeting except for the part where I tell everyone how much money I made today. They just stare back at me in shock, jealous losers. As we're leaving one of the mangers pulled me aside and asked me if I've ever considered Rehab (awesome pool party in Vegas at the Hard Rock) and I tell him I go at least once a year. He tells me I need to visit again, soon. What a weirdo, probably wants to fuck me. Since it's almost 4 I figure I've put in a full days work and can head home to change before I head out for the real party. When I call down to make sure my car is ready they tell me traffic is bad. Well that's why rich party animals like me have helipads! I toss back a couple xanax and roll a joint to smoke during the flight. Then this asshole pilot tells me the FAA says I can't smoke in-flight. Who does this asshole think he is telling me I can't get high smoking herb in a tiny flying metal box??? Obviously my house is massive and he can easily land in the yard which makes it easy for me to stumble in the back door. I wake up a few hours later passed out on the steps to the screams of my Guatemalan housekeeper. Apparently the massive amount of drugs I took really knocked me out as was walking up to my room and I got a good nap in. But for some reason this dumbass though I had overdosed again and instead of doing what she was supposed to she just stood there and screamed. I mean really this is the 3rd OD scare we've had, you think she would learn by now? Oh well, time to throw on some flashy clothes and a fake Rolex (people kept stealing the real ones when I would randomly pass out from all the drugs I do) and go find tonight's victim, I mean deeply desperate woman… I mean date. I call a car service, because despite all the other insane things I do involving drugs I'm really concerned about the cost associated with a DUI. Unfortunately the car service reminds me that one time I shot up with a strippers in a Town Car and we proceeded to shit ourselves all over the backseat, so they have the balls to decline me service! I point out that I'm a big shot and will eventually destroy their company, unfortunately they'd already hung up. I'm forced to call a plain cab company but then made the mistake of doing several lines of coke and popping a 50mg Viagra. Apparently the cab driver wasn't keen on stopping for a guy twitching like crazy with an obvious hard-on, so I had to call and wait for another. Had the cabbie take me to one of my usual strip clubs. It's a decent place, reasonably priced, strippers are okay but not spectacular and OTC is usually available for big shots like me. The big plus is the owner here knows me and also knows that if I'm FUCKED with I will make several dozen phones calls and he will end up being mildly annoyed by someone from the health department and/or get some possibly fake letters from the state treasurer's office. Have to do a few key bumps and drop some E before I walk in the door since a few of the asshole bouncers are uptight about hardcore drug use done inside the club. Like normal most of the strippers retreat as I walk in the club, they're intimidated by me. Sadly the night turned out to be a bust here. Didn't see any strippers I'd never met before (somehow I always do better with the ones who have never been near me??). Then one of the piece of shit bouncers who probably never even finished junior college and is just doing this shit job to support his family of four, has the gall to come up to me and say “Excuse me Sir? I'd really appreciate it if you stopped throwing the ash trays”. WHAT THE FUCK, DOES HE KNOW WHO I AM. Then, believe it or not, after I try to him in the back with my chair he actually asks me to leave and gets one of his co-workers to help when I refuse? The low level thugs don't know who they messed with. They're lives are going to be ruined as soon as my friend at the DMV returns my messages. I end up just heading to a dive club where I know I can score some crack and smoke it in the bathroom. Fortunately I meet this really tall muscular stripper with a really husky voice and pronounced camel toe. She doesn't seem real interested in OTC but since I'm such a smooth talker I negotiate her into it, only costs me $1000 and all the weed she can smoke. We grab a cab and head to my “crash pad” (basically one of those shitty hotel rooms pimps rent by the week) near one of my drug dealers. Outside the dark club that camel toe seems even more pronounced as does her adam's apple? But hey I really like that deep voice! Inside my room she smokes some weed and I mainline my last bit of heroin. As I drift off in to a blur I consider how hard it's getting to find the veins between my toes. I wake up the next morning face down on the bed with my pants around my ankles. I'm missing several thousand dollars in cash and at least an ounce of pot. Also for some reason my asshole hurts really bad and there‘s a strange brand of condoms in the bathroom? I must have really fucked her good last night! I glance at the clock and realize I have to be at work in 90 minutes. I'll have to swing by my drug dealer and buy some more blow if I'm going to make it through the day! Damn it is awesome to be a rich party animal.