Thank God we prevailed to find a new home on our own domain, because the rest of 2011 was an Epic Nutbar Donkey Cuckoo Weasel Scheme Juices Year.
The battle-weary Julia Allison had a lot at stake at the beginning of the year. She was hellbent on conning Jack McCain into marrying her, so it was completely understandable that she would attempt to scrub the internet of any evidence that she was a psychotic, boner-killing, face-messing weirdo.
She wanted the McCains to be sure that she was a responsible adult, capable of supporting herself. She also wanted them to know that despite being a super-successful tech founder and entrepreneur at the Magical Fantasy Corporation, she could also be an impeccable homemaker.
Indeed, Julia spent the beginning of the year desperately latching onto the McCain family. She visited the McCain home in Arizona and went skydiving. . .
Took a ride in a helicopter. . .
And she attended the ceremony in Pensacola where Jack got his wings. (Apparently somebody somewhere clapped three times.) It was during that weekend in Pensacola when our stupid, desperate donkey posted intimate videos to prove that she sat next to Cindy McCain and posted picture after picture that basically said: “I’m gonna suck on this tit until it runs out of milk.”
Oh, she was smug, so smug, and so proud of herself that she could not stop herself from blogging and Tweeting that shit to high heaven. Yes, despite dating poor Pancakes up there for mere weeks, Julia Allison was pretending that she was basically part of the family, rewriting her history to prove that she was deeply in love with him, so in love that it brought her to tears.
Indeed, the beginning of the year was a time of joy for a donkey. She had destroyed RBNS, temporarily at least, deviously injected herself into an OMG FAMOUS OMG political family, and her internationally syndicated column was about to be internationally syndicated to over 100+ newspapers around the world, and by 100+, we man about three or four. But still — employment!
Yes, Julia Allison’s social media column “Social Studies” was set to debut. Nonetheless, the Tribune Media Services column seemed dimly regarded by the Chicago Tribune itself. Just read the opening line of the article written by Melissa Harris:
Julia Allison’s star power fizzled in New York. And now Chicago, her hometown, which she has mocked on occasion, is giving her a fresh start.
Me-ow! Now that’s the type of girl-on-girl that I like to see! Julia Allison, of course, wasn’t pleased.
“Social Studies” also provide Julia Allison with a great vehicle to show off her perfectly symmetrical tits.
Because nothing says “take me seriously as a journalist” more than cutlet cleavage and posing with your severely depressed dog.
In the run-up to the Greatly Anticipated By No One debut of Julia Allison’s attempt to be a serious column lady, our now employed donkey went on a local media blitz, arranging unapproved photo shoots and appearing on all (read: one) of the local television channels.
Her PR angle was to brand herself as the local girl who came home to Chicago after taking New York by storm. Telling the truth and admitting that you’re the laughing stock of the New York media scene, namely because of your ineptitude when it comes to social media, might not have worked as well.
It appeared that she was taking this gig seriously. (Mind you, the column hadn’t actually debuted yet.) She wrote this annoying piece of drivel on her blog in anticipation of the hundreds of millions of new readers she expected to visit NonSociety. She opened up comments on her horizontal shit show and immediately got pissed off about it. LET ME BE CRYSTAL CLEAR: she wasn’t pleased that her readers weren’t fawning all over her in the comments, so she scolded them.
But even before Julia Allison published her first column, it was clear that this new venture was going to be a miserable failure. Why? Because despite only having to write a 700-word column once a week, Julia Allison felt that she needed not one, but two, illegal interns to essentially write the column for her.
She couldn’t possibly write the column herself. She was too busy pretending to cover Fashion Week, where she stole Minnie Mouse’s shoes and wore a dress that smashed her breasts into tacky cow patties.
Yes, in all of this clusterfuck that we call “January” and “February,” I forgot to mention that Julia Allison was rapidly nearing her self-proclaimed expiration date, and she chose to celebrate by taking fancy pictures of herself that prove she has busted her face beyond repair.
“Cyberbullying,” as defined by Julia Allison, means “people calling me out publicly for showing my ass publicly several times a day.” Totally OK, however, was for her to attempt to destroy an ex-boyfriend’s relationship with his fiancee.
Her column, and the platform it afforded her, was also a great vehicle for her to champion a cause that she would soon forget about just as quickly she did the plight of military spouses as soon as Pancakes dumped her ass: cyberbullying. And that’s when things got incredibly annoying, but we’ll get to that soon enough.
To be continued!