So yesterday I posted my thoughts on Black Friday which I referred to as African American Friday in attempt to be politically correct. This received quite the backlash and I would never want to be a traitor to my community so here is my apology video filmed last night at Hanukkah dinner with relatives and my grandma’s ladysitter (who is considered part of the family). I decided to shoot this video in B&W to further solidify that I do not see in color, it’s called symbolism people.
Bonjour. I’ll just cut to the chase here, I have been a nightmare lately. Pre-menstrual, snide and edgy as fuck. It’s true that you take things out on the person you love the most hence why I have been a super bitch to my saintly boyfriend. He has spoon fed me ice cream, jigged me my Dirty Martinis and even watched Vanderpump Rules against his will during my time of need. In order to reciprocate I decided to make a special meal inspired by a dinner we had on our anniversary trip to Paris this past spring. Not to sound like an asshole, but this chicken is to die for. You’re welcome. Also, how much do I love that headband? Very necessary when being splashed with chicken fat.
1 pound of skinless chicken thighs
1 tablespoon of butter
Olive oil (as needed)
1/2 cup of diced onion
1 bag (classy) of sliced crimini mushrooms
1/2 cup of chicken broth
Full glass of white wine (I used Chardonnay)
3 splashes of marsala wine
3 splashes of heavy cream (fat ass)
Italian parsley (for garnish darling)
I served with easy arugula salad, a crusty french baguette and some fresh macarons! A handful of you have asked for my cooking videos so here ya go doll faces. Ask, believe and you shall receive #KimZolciak. Send requests to firstname.lastname@example.org xo
When something great happens it is really hard for me not to shout it from the rooftops. After receiving my first seriously cutthroat hate e-mail from a member of a Feminist Group which shall remain anonymous (for now at least) I almost collapsed with joy. I wanted to immediately share but figured it would be best for the sake of Haute Messes everywhere to hold out until I had a plethora of testosterone fueled emails to share with you all. These bitches (they love being referred to as bitches and hoes) brought the heat big time… Please enjoy my first set back in the hopes of ever running for senate (yeah right) and hopefully not being stoned to death the next time I attend a women’s sporting event or the pantsuit department at JC Penney’s.
Haute Mess Lesson : Do not piss off #chickswithdicks.
Happy Monday everyone. I am usually one chipper chicken but this morning all I’m thinking about is how pissed I am I woke up too late to drive through McDonald’s (I’m on a serious egg mcmuffin kick) and still so irritated by Joanna Krupa’s wedding dress from the Real Housewives finale. But seriously, what the fuck was that? She’s so gorgeous, she had the potential to be possibly the prettiest bride ever and she ended up looking like fucking Charro. Better luck at your next one girl. Anyways, this morning I have found myself to be really cranky. In an attempt to lift my spirits thought I would purge some of my current frustrations with one of infamous lists. Please don’t be offended – I’m premenstrual and having hash brown withdrawals.
Ice Sculptures – I get how random this is, but they legitimately bother me. Are they supposed to be classy? It’s just fucking ice. Like what is chic about a swan made of ice? It melts and does not make sense aesthetically, financially or emotionally.
“Baby Got Back” – I just hate this song so much. No one has ever looked cool dancing to this song. As a baby who does not have “back” this is what I consider a “refill song”. The second I hear that weird ass intro, you should immediately refill whatever you can think of. Your drink, your plate, your Chlamydia meds, happy pills whatever.
Pedestrians – You will never find a group of people more self-absorbed & self-righteous. I am not talking about people walking their dog, having a romantic stroll or walking to dinner. I am referring to full time pedestrians. They just waltz into the middle of the street and expect you not to hit them? While they nonchalantly walk around avoiding traffic signals because the law says “Pedestrians have the right away.” UM that’s funny, not in my world they don’t. Talk about entitlement issues. Get a car.
Acid Wash Denim – Unless you are Bret Michaels, this just isn’t socially acceptable anymore.
Coach Bags- They just scream “I’m settling.”
And then all this…
Sometimes I annoy myself beyond the point of belief. ALSO, please share the Haute Mess love by sharing the site on your Facebook, Instagram or Twitter using the hashtag #hautemesslife and win some free shit.
I hope most of you agree, Britney Spears is a straight up haute mess ICON. Everytime she completes a full sentence with a subject predicate and proper verb usage I get SO excited for her. This may sound selfish but all I have ever wanted from Britty is to bust out pop songs the same way she busts out shitty hair extensions and slither on a stage with her 6 pack stomach and a live cobra around her neck just like the good old days. I have stood by Britney through everything. Her head shaving fiasco, fast food binging, baseball bat incident, K-Fed and her unbelievably bad hair extensions ( I am sorry I just can’t get over them). I even supported this…What can I say? I’m a giver. Despite all of her low points Britney is the queen of comebacks. This morning as I begrudgingly got out of bed and started my 12 hour countdown for the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills premiere (recap to follow) I turned on the radio in my car and was given the gift of Miss Britney Jeans new single “Perfume”. Now listen, I am not just another Britney soldier. Despite not having any form of actual relationship with her, I still feel incredibly close with her. Firstly, we both have serious appreciation for the culinary offerings of gas stations. She likes slurpies, I like slurpies. She snacks on Cheetohs and so do I. She has no aversion to public restrooms and neither do I. I prefer the anonymity of a public restroom… makes me feel more relaxed. So clearly, we have a lot in common. Just 2 peas in fucking pod. The only thing that I hold against her is her alleged restrictions on surrounding herself with people who drink or smoke since she doesn’t want any temptation. Sobriety seems so boring. Good luck with that one in Vegas boo. The only “perfume” you will smell there is the inspiring scent of alcohol, cigarettes and broken dreams. For those living under a rock here is my girl Britney Jean’s new song… I think it is steamy, sticky and marketing genius since that bitch has more perfumes on the market than Jo Malone. What can you expect? It’s Britney Bitch.
For those of you who have yet to be ambushed by my excessive tweets,instagram and facebook posts yesterday was a true Haute Mess Miracle. Please enjoy… Does anyone else have a total Heather Dubroner? Housewives by blood, best friends by choice.
As we all know, Baby loves a good alliteration. So now I give you “Feedback Friday” a day that kicks off the weekend right and makes you feel better about yourself by hearing some of the nasty and downright aggressive reader feedback I receive. I am well accustomed to the standard offended reader email. Vegan’s, feminists, Miley Cyrus fan’s, people with morals etc. Since most of these emails come from complete strangers, I tend to brush them off pretty easily. In a sick way, I take their complaints as compliments because I am just way too lazy to ever do that sort of thing. And they are usually complaints/concerns wrapped in a compliment and for that I am forever grateful. A few nights ago I published one of the proofs from my “Haute Mess Handbook” cover shoot. I look like a sparkly homeless person 98% of the time so I get really excited when I have actual photographic evidence of me with both hair AND make up done. It’s very rare that I am able to have both looking on point so I really ham that shit up. I am not proud, it’s shameful and vain but at least I own it okay? So sue me. After posting the pic, a kid I went to high school with commented saying “Mmm yummy”. Well that’s awkward. Listen, I live and breathe for a compliment. I will take them anywhere I can get it. Sure it was creepy given the complete nonexistence of a friendship or any actual communication but dgaf. Thanks boo.
As I began analyzing the photo I realized that although the hair looked pretty lush and very gentile (how could it not? 68% of it isn’t mine) I was showcasing some armpit fat and impulsively deleted the pic. What happened next was so epic on so many levels. My self depricating photo delete had full on started a social media attack by a once admiring facebook “friend”. Blissfully unaware of my impending character and skill assassination, I jumped in the shower. As I washed my hair and face I innocently started wondering how I could remove that armpit fat and what other physical wonders I could have fixed with the magic of photoshop. Nose job? Chin implant? Lipo? #whitegirlproblems. I got out of the shower, put on my sole hydration socks and my new chenille robe. I truly felt so happy. My handbook is in full motion, I have a boyfriend that loves me even with my questionable house wear and I had a brand new pre-recorded episode of Real Housewives to watch. Does life get much better?
Then I looked at my phone. 8 missed calls. In 15 minutes. And 3 god damn voicemail. Are you fucking kidding me?
“Jackie. What the fuck? You have to say something back. Call me.”
“Holy balls is he fucking serious? Why haven’t you responded. Don’t be a pussy.”
“Jacks its me. Are you okay? Please call me if your upset and need to talk. He is just a bitter asshole, do not listen to him!”
Ummmmm… huh? I have never been so confused in my life. What the hell was going on? What could have possibly gone down in the 20 minutes I had shut my laptop and gone to take a shower? Then I opened my computer… I saw that precious little notification flag on my facebook home screen. The second I saw the length and serious anger radiating from my screen I immediately opened my iMovie so I could capture the moment raw. Here you go…
Firstly, my stomach hurt for days after reading this. I legit almost peed. And then all my friends who saw called me to make sure I was okay which made me laugh/need to pee even harder. When the hell did this kid become fuckin Michiko Kakutani (famous NY Times book critic) or Andre Leon Talley with the fashion advice? Bitter much? I fucking loved/love every word of this very public display of Haute Mess HATER and in fact am having the screenshot framed and put on my desk to further inspire me while i write my book that is being PUBLISHED regardless of your adorably irrelevant review. See you at the 10 year reunion boo. I’ll be the girl with a Haute Mess gift basket for you, big kiss. I have extended an offer for said critic to submit a guest post and he has yet to respond. I understand your latest edition of World of Warcraft is incredibly engrossing but the offer still stands if you can set aside some time. Happy Friday xoxo
Haute Mess Lesson: Being the bigger person is overrated.
Last night I finally got around to go through the cluster fuck that is my Haute Mess inbox. I dread going through it because it usually is filled with annoying notifications, paypal statements and plenty of offended reader emails. First the vegans were on my balls, now it’s the feminists. Lucky for you I have flagged all of those and am going to have a super special 2 part apology post to these passionate female activists. You are welcome ahead of time.
I must say I can’t tell you how refreshing it is to read nice emails asking advice or giving positive feedback. Here are some of questions/comments and concerns covering everything from Hellen Keller, budget shopping, new boyfriends and my feminist group rebuttal.
Last night after a very cathartic and irritatingly calm Real Housewives of New Jersey reunion show and a celebratory dirty martini, I started reminiscing on some of my other favorite tv shows past and present. I remembered how obsessed I was with Degrassi, lost my shit for The Amanda Show and was completely transfixed by The OC. Seth Cohen was the ultimate Jewish boy next door and Marissa Cooper was the Chanel bag toting, pill popping, haute mess we all knew and loved. Confession: I was OBSESSED with Mischa Barton for the majority of high school. I envied her wardrobe, her endorsement deals, her alleged anorexia and impeccable cheekbones. Which brings me to my next thought… WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO MY MISCH?
Listen, I am all for hollywood weight gain. It both intrigues me and makes me feel thinner which are 2 things I NEVER complain about. I just feel that Misch left me (and the rest of her faithful fans) high and dry. Did I ever snark at her mediocre acting skills? No. Did I ever judge her for dating all those grunger he-she’s? No. Was this photo showcased under my “About Me” section on my myspace profile for about 5 years? Uhhh, you’re damn right it was. So you can imagine my extreme disappointment when I saw this on the internet…
Girl let’s get through this together. Lose the “Clarissa Explains It All” choker, invest in some figure flattering wardrobe staples and get back on track. I for one, think an OC reunion special is way overdue. Even as young girl Sandy Cohen’s eye brows really excited me. After a few tears and listening to Phantom Planet’s “California” 5 times I have learned to cope. Mischa, if you’re out polishing off a pizookie somewhere, just know you have a friend and a fan in me. Forever and always, RIP. My thoughts exactly girl.
If you are yet to be informed of my childhood Caucasian identity crisis please reference Haute Mess Halfrican. After my brief Kindergarten fling with one hunky chocolate man (MLK), my deep love for the African American manifested in all aspects of my life. Most little girls wanted to be Barbie or various Disney princesses. I wanted to be RuPaul… to clarify I was blissfully unaware of “her” male genitalia. To me she was such a majestic woman. I was in awe of her glamorous gowns, sky high (tranny) heels, abundant accessories, chocolate skin and platinum blonde hair. Lez be honest, it’s not everyday you see that kind of aesthetic. Especially in first grade. You may wonder how a 6 year old would even know who RuPaul was? I have often asked myself the same thing. My deep admiration from RuPaul stems from a little movie called “To Wong Foo, Thanks For Everything! Julie Newmar” Longest. Fucking. Title. Ever. My perfect Grandma Gloria made the excellent judgement call of taking me to see this movie at the fresh age of 6.
In “To Wong Foo” 3 New York City drag queens travel cross country to Los Angeles for some life changing drag pageant. Mid trip their car breaks down in a middle America/red state/hickville and the “ladies” must tuck in their penises and spread fabulousness to the tragic town. How did this movie not get a best picture nom? Hollywood Foreign Press, you really missed the boat on this one. Anyways, RuPaul plays the ultimate reigning Drag Queen and that is how I became obsessed with her. Normal. Many people have questioned this weird infatuation I have/had with Ru so last night I called my mother to get her parental and psychological opinion on the matter.
If you have yet to see this movie, please go watch it. You’re welcome ahead of time. Here are some of my favorite quotes from this masterpiece of a movie…
“I’m the Latina Marilyn Monroe. I’ve got more legs than a bucket of chicken!”
“If you want to let them know that there is steak for dinner, you got to let them hear it sizzle!”
“I want you to believe in yourself, imagine good things, and moisturize.”
“I think tomorrow is a ‘Say Something’ hat day.”
To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything! Jackie Schimmel
This past weekend I was invited to a wedding for a family friend of my boyfriend’s aka a totally anonymous wedding aka THE BEST kind of wedding. I love the anonymity of a strangers special occasion. You can shove food down your throat, drink all the top shelf liquor, dance your ass off and not have to spend one minute small talking with one of your distant yet creepy uncles. The wedding was at a beautiful winery in Malibu which was perfect since I was house and dog sitting my parent’s house while they were away on vacation. As I went about my day on Saturday, I realized that the only 2 dresses I had packed were white and fucking ivory. That’s appropriate, showing up to a strangers wedding in a white dress. What the hell is wrong with me? Panic set in and I knew I needed to find a new ensemble in a jiffer. This social faux pas all unfolded around 2:00pm, conveniently an hour and a half before the shindig. I decided to go to the place that always lifts my spirits… TJ Maxx aka Disneyland. People always think I am joking when I say I love it there, shame on you. I documented my desperate outfit hunt filled with all the highs and lows that come with bargain shopping.
I may or may not have gone back for the Pucci dress as my “thinspiration” investment piece – whatever, I #workbitch. Also, I have spent the past 3 hours trying to learn how to bleep out my rape line in this video. I meant to say ravage and oops. I apologize and am too technologically challenged to learn how to fix it since its already been posted. #sorrymomanddad
It may seem like I am living vicariously through my best friend (@ruthannemusic) who co-wrote the new Britney Spears song “Work Bitch”. That assumption would be entirely correct. This song may be the only thing that has ever made me want to go for a run, but seriously. Can we also take a second to appreciate how she is putting the Brit in faux BRITish accents? I am kind of obsessed with celebrities developing British accents, it’s so trendy right now. Madonna, Gwyneth and now Britty boo. I may start using one too, except anytime I try different dialects it always slowly turns into an Vietnamese/Spanish blend and that could just be weird. Anyways for anyone living under a rock, take a listen to the song that will be playing on repeat at every gay bar and group fitness class worldwide.
Now get to work bitch.
Recently someone expressed their concerns about me exploiting my family for entertainment purposes. Not that I am above that sort of thing, but this is definitely not the case. I actually feel many of my kin are exploiting me, and in our world exploitation has a very positive connotation. All of my family members feel they deserve a special ode and rightfully so, which brings me to my cousin Jennifer. Jennifer reigns as the oldest (sorry) and most camera shy (not) cousin. She is known for her fail proof fertility, world famous macaroni salad and erotic dance moves. One of her contributing traditions to ingratiate outsiders to our family is to induct them with her gift of lap dance. She has been doing this for quite a while now and it really never gets old. There truly is no wrong time for one of her special performances and no matter how uncomfortable it makes the victim feel Jenny always gives it her all. It doesn’t matter if you are handicapped, offended or non consensual. When Jennifer feels you are almost apart of the family, you just get a lap dance. Sometimes it goes well, sometimes it goes weird. Regardless, it’s here to stay. She will straddle, slither, grind and spank you (I am not joking) until she feels her job is complete. Here is Jennifer very demurely explaining the reasons behind this interesting right of passage.
She was able to provide so much material this will be a trilogy. Also, Jennifer you’re welcome.
For those of you who have not be introduced to the legend that is my Grandma Gloria aka “Glo-ho” please reference Haute Mess Grandma. This past weekend I celebrated Rosh Hashanah with my family and my kin is next level haute mess. Everyone is very loud, very close, very opinionated and very filter free. Most people would think we are bat shit crazy but I think it’s the best. With all that chutzpah in the air we are destined to have some very interesting conversations. We also have a bitch ranking system amongst my family and my cousin Jo reigns as head Bitch #1, I come in at a very close second as Bitch #2. Jo and I decided to get my Grandma loosey goosey with half a glass of Cabernet and have some girl talk. Marijuana, labias, drug addiction, bikini waxing. You’re welcome.
Send questions/advice/concerns to ask Grandma Gloria to email@example.com, tweet to @hautemesslife, or leave in a comment below!
Happy friday everyone, my week has been dragging on longer than Rita Ora’s train at the VMA’s. Luckily I was gifted a small parcel of joy last night as I received another offended reader message. Note to self: do not fuck with Miley Cyrus. It was stuck in my spam folder and call it haute mess intuition, I decided to read through and found the following GEM. Thank you Jesus, because I was getting low on material.
Sorry I’m not sorry girl. I will spend my long weekend listening to “We Can’t Stop” on repeat and looking into private twerking lessons. PLEASE feel free to send comments/complaints/concerns/virtual gifts to firstname.lastname@example.org
See previous HML Apology here : Haute Mess Apology – Vegans