Eat, Bray, Love: A 2010 Assessment


Heavens to Donkey! Is it that time of year already? Yes, another year of cray has unfolded, leaving a wake of insane madness as time barrels toward Julia Allison’s expiration date, the magical day when her hips turn into an even bigger pumpkin and her cheek and chin implants fall out, leaving ol’ Flapjacks McCain in a state of confused shock and horror.

Oh, who are we kidding, he’s tots not going to last that long.

So how has Julia Allison grown as a person in 2010? How has she nourished her spiritual being, tightened and toned her fantastic body and put her career trajectory into overdrive?

I’ll tell you how! So grab a couple boxes of Franzia, warm me up some sticky buns (the pastry, you perverts!) and sit here by the crackling fire next to Poppa JP as I tell you a story, a cautionary tale about how just when you think your Kim Kardashian ass has hit rock bottom, only then do you realize that you have so much further to fall.

Now last year, we graded Julia Allison on how well she stuck to her New Year’s resolutions, but, alas, she didn’t publicly make any this time around. I’d like to think I had something to do with that.

If you haven’t left your basement in the last year — and let’s face it, you haven’t — you might recall that the year began with Julia struggling with the decision to quit blogging. She did eventually, but we’ll get to that. But 2010 began with her teasing her exit from the blogosphere, practically begging her Uzbek Facebook followers to beg her to stay.

And she did. 2011 began with Donks dancing on things she shouldn’t stand on with her sister Meghan Asha and other lovely ladies who you will never hear from again at Schlub 51, the hotspot owned by the Fat Melman’s, a magical place where you can get a veggie burger and roofied at the same address!

Yes, the sisterhood was strong in the new year, so strong, in fact, that I invite you to play a little story time game called “How Many Of These Characters Still Have An Active Role In This Psychotic Narrative?”

Anyway, Julia Allison spent the beginning of 2010 recovering for weeks from the holidays and posting pictures of her wang.

Meanwhile, the spotlight was put on another little blog. You see, Gawker’s Richard Lawson, who I like to call “Koala Dick,” because he looks like a koala and is a huge fucking dick, decided to write a glowing profile of about RBNS.

You see, Richard Lawson seemed to have a problem with our recapping our little online reality show that is Julia Allison’s life, despite the fact that none of us would even know who Julia Allison was if it wasn’t for Gawker’s relentless promotion of her, and despite the fact that Lawson gets paid to write overly wordy and pretentious recaps of shitty reality television shows. Apparently, we are not allowed to have opinions about things because we aren’t paid to blog. Gawker interviewed Donks about our blog but failed to ask us for a quote, so we felt the need to explain ourselves. Once Gawker commenters criticized Lawson for not interviewing the RBNS contributors, he posted a cover-his-ass interview with Jacy. And thus began a weird bit of hypocrisy where a website that made its name for being mean and snarky turned its nose up on a blog that is mean and snarky.

Fortunately, that little bit of time in the spotlight was quickly overshadowed by Julia’s love life, because she said “it.” You might recall one Prom King, the pussy whipped son of an ambulance chaser who took Julia Allison on wildly extravagant dates that made Donkey’s romper wiener rock hard.

Yes, she confessed her love for Prom King, not because she actually loved him, but because he was the richest and most convenient one of the three guys she was juggling at the time. (Remember Hipster Lawyer and the mysterious San Francisco fuck buddy?) Oh, Prom King was a storybook romance, indeed, full of mutual respect and admiration for each other — a whirlwind romance for the ages, that is, until it imploded weeks later.

But before Prom King ran away screaming into the night, he whisked Julia and Jordan (remember her?) and Meghan to St. Barths, because it is totally normal to make your boyfriend pay for a Caribbean vacation for you and your “sisters.”

The St. Barths trip turned into quite a controversy. First, Jordan and Meghan implied that it was Julia’s Christmas gift to her fellow NonSociety bloggers, but it was later revealed that Wallet Thing footed the bill. Then some RBNS commenters got miffed because of the girls’ gallivanting in the Caribbean and not acknowledging the devastating earthquake in Haiti. I mean, people died, and all these girls did was post pictures of their feet.

The St. Barths trip spelled the end of the love fest for Jordan for many of you. I stuck around for a bit, but trust me, it did not last.

Meanwhile, despite ignoring the Haiti disaster while vacationing with her girls, Julia Allison was enough of an expert to talk about the earthquake on MSNBC, the only cable news network this year that would allow her on air, and only on Sundays when no one was watching because they were hungover, asleep or worshiping Jesus.

It was on MSNBC that Julia Allison confessed her love for hiking skirts up her crotch. But we already knew that, didn’t we?

When not appearing on MSNBC and braying endlessly about it, Julia spent her time threatening physical violence to New York Post reporters. (She hadn’t discovered the ashram yet, so it was not hypocritical at all.)

Meanwhile, Meghan Asha PISSED ME OFF! You see, homegirl took time off from planning the 2010 Puerto Rican Day parade to redecorate her entire apartment via shills. This set off a firestorm of foot stomping from the Reblogging NonSociety contributors who believed they deserved free shit, too. (Editors Note: Yes, we deserve free shit.)

By then it had become abundantly clear that NonSociety was nothing more than a vehicle for three unemployed bitches to acquire things that they wanted for free.

Ah, yes, Birthcray 2010, an epic narcissistic display that chased off blonds and killed boners on two coasts and the Rocky Mountains. You’d think she wouldn’t top licking Randi’s cake, but, my lord, did she ever!

When she wasn’t spending her evening’s wearing GILF outfits or bitching out Vanity Fair for not having enough brown people or giving herself a valid medical reason for staying up all night checking her “Julia Allison” Google Alert or studying for her GMAT and bitching that math is HARD for girls, Julia was frantically planning her bi-coastal birthday bash and concocting ways to get Snooki and The Situation to show up.

Of course, her birthday party wasn’t all about her. (That’s a lie. It’s tots was.) It was simply a fundraiser to help all those wimmins with tumors in their tatas, that and an opportunity to publicly debut the love of her life and man she was to marry, Prom King.

It was big news! She found a man that wanted to stick his dick in a donkey.

News of Julia officially having a boyfriend and the countdown to the guaranteed birthday crazy overshadowed the debut of one Bitch, Please, who nobody cared about for several months, because it was February, Julia Allison’s BIRTHDAY MONTH!  Anyway, Katrina joined NonSociety and Julia went to Fashion Week, where she embarrassed herself completely. Multiple times.

Moving on. . .

Julia Allison, hell bent on making Prom King propose during the barfday bash, basically moved in with him and enjoyed a lovely Valentine’s date where she hung out in deserted restaurants, was shocked by the nudity in HAIR, and showed the world that fresh-faced, just-fucked-in-the-morning look.

It was a lovely romantic evening, so romantic that Julia Allison, who vowed not to blog about her relationships, blogged about how she was not in love with Prom King. (You’ll want to remember this for later.)

The fact is, I’ve never been in a “perfect” relationship.  But I have been in love, several times.  It is wonderful and confusing and thrilling and overwhelming.  But I am not in love with him.  I don’t think he is in love with me. (emphasis mine) We care about one another very much, and I hope that will happen eventually … but how can one predict the heart?

Of course, how could Prom King be in love with Julia Allison. Nobody loves munchkins.

Even though Julia didn’t love Prom King, she certainly didn’t have a problem spending his money. It was all for the birthcray extravaganza, an ultra-exclusive fête to which only the lucky few were invited. Hanging out with Julia Allison is like being in the presence of God, after all.

Finally, after over two months of build-up, the epic event was upon us. And, Christ on a cross, did it live up to its promise!

For one thing, we got our first undoctored look at Prom King.

We learned that Julia apparently works at NBC and left Jordan and Lasagna wandering aimlessly around San Francisco. She also ate an entire brick of carbohydrates and gluten, which will become important later.

She raised basically nothing for Komen, but received the entry free for the Chicago Komen Walk from Dirty Billows. She concluded her insane week-long birthday celebration in Aspen, where tragedy struck.

No, she didn’t fall off the mountain and die. (Mary Rambin could only wish.) Something more horrific happened.

Yes, another year, another blond killed off by the birthcray madness. And I do mean “killed.” Apparently Julia Allison, jealous of the fact that Jordan was engaged after only six weeks while Prom King had still yet to propose, bludgeoned Jordacted with a moon boot and stabbed her with a ski pole and buried her in the snow, her blue, frozen beanpole body only to be discovered until after the spring thaw began. When questioned about Jordan’s whereabouts, Julia made up some totally believable story that Jordan was off looking for new recipes in the spaghetti sauce aisle of Whole Foods, so she could continue providing riveting content to NonSociety. In actuality, Jadorable was dead, murdered by a rabid, jealous donkey who wanted nothing more than to be married, have a Harvard degree and eat cupcakes while staying thin.

The brayge turned to blind rage, and an innocent person was killed.

Actually that’s not what happened, at all, but what really went down was just as entertaining. You see, apparently some people find throwing multiple extravagant birthday parties in multiple timezones off-putting, although I don’t really know why. Also off-putting? Purchasing airplane tickets to Aspen for you and your husband without asking and then demanding that you pay Wallet Thing back if you chose not to go.

Jordan was feeling a little bit of white guilt for enjoying St. Barths  after Wyclef Jean got super sad because all those Haitians died, so she was a bit reluctant to go on another extravagant trip with Julia Allison. (It was all your fault, cat ladies.) But after expressing her hesitancy, Julia threatened to cut a bitch demanding a refund of the hundreds of dollars Prom King spent on their behalf without asking. So Jordan decided to go, dragging along Kendrick  for a ski trip that was only supposed to be about how awesome Julia Allison was.

Why didn’t they just pay Prom King the money? Well, Jordan and Kendrick were broke. Apparently, egoblogging isn’t the sort of career that pays you a living wage, especially when you join a sinking ship without a contract despite being the most productive blogger NonSociety had. So after months of showing her readers that when you throw edible things in a pot and warm them up they make meals, Jordan quit that bitch as politely as she possibly could.

Going forward, I will be blogging at ( will also work for those of you who wish to follow me on Tumblr; the transition to WordPress will happen over the next month or so).

I have loved my time at NonSociety, and have especially loved getting to know you all, but for both personal and professional reasons I feel that it is time to redirect my energies elsewhere. I continue to be close with Julia, Meghan, and Megan, and wish them all the best in their pursuits.

In the coming months I will be attending classes in design and the culinary arts, pursuing job opportunities in related fields…and sharing my journey on my site on a daily basis. I hope to see you there!

All my love,


And so the meltdown began.

Julia handled the sudden departure of her sister of all of eight months with grace and poise, and by “grace and poise” I mean spreading rumors to RBNS mods that Jordan bilked Meghan Asha out of thousands of dollars. Never mind that Jordan apparently never saw a cent from NonSociety the whole six or so months she was blogging for them.

Hilarity ensued. Both Meghan and Julia were all, like, “Look at the birdie!” before they were forced to acknowledge to giant bloated donkey in the room (the one that was not Julia Allison).

Fortunately, Julia had the loving arms of Prom King to fall into, and she wasn’t about to let go, no matter how hard he tried to escape. It’s a shame Prom King lost his boner in Aspen. It’s cold up there.

Yes, after losing a friend, and as her blogging “business” sputtered, Julia tried her damndest to make this whole Prom King thing stick to her clam dungeon, despite the fact that, just weeks before, she confessed that she wasn’t actually in love with him.

I don’t know about you, but whenever I say I’m not in love with my significant other, the first thing I do is blog relentlessly about how I just cannot wait to marry him. And while I publicly professed wanting to marry a man I wasn’t in love with, I would also simultaneously begin email harassing and subtly blogging about the other guy I was not in love with that I dumped four years ago. It got so insane, that everyone in Julia’s life including the RBNS mods had to send some subtle messages of their own.

Julia was so desperate to trick a man into standing at the altar while she clomped down the aisle that she resorted to hanging around the elementary school playground, rubbing her nipples through her too tight cardigan. Needless to say, Justin Beiber had to triple his security budget and Chris Hansen was put on alert.

Prom King was in danger, and I had to look out for my homeboy and tell him to pick his balls off the floor.

And what do you know? He did! I mean, wouldn’t you?

Up at 3am on a Sat night watching wedding videos so I can hire a videographer for my brother’s marriage. The couples all look like KIDS! about 13 hours ago via web

And yes, I’ve cried at EVERY. SINGLE. ONE. of them. Stupid “Oh-God-I’m-TWENTY-NINE-Will-I-Ever-Get-Married?!”-PMS-freak-out hormones. about 13 hours ago via web

Two of my favorite things – weddings and lip dubs – together!!! about 13 hours ago via web

Guy Friend: Most men would marry you. If not all. Me: You should be a therapist for patients who don’t wish to confront reality. about 12 hours ago via web

@alexisjulian – Just found out an ex of mine – whom I loved more than anything – got engaged last week. Sort of puts things in perspective. via web in reply to alexisjulian

It turns out that Jordan wasn’t the only person Julia pissed off in Aspen. You see, we posted these tiny, little unsubstantiated rumors. They all turned out to be true, and they told the frightening story of a madwoman unraveling.

Apparently, publicly disclosing that Prom King dumped Julia Allison hard, plus revealing that she was desperate for cash and selling swag that she was supposed to give away in a contest, hit a nerve, so much so that Julia Allison UP AND QUIT THE INTERNET!

Of course, for Julia Allison, quitting the internet means writing the longest blog post she had written in years.

Goodbye for Now

Hello there.

Although I don’t know you and you don’t – let’s face it – really know me, we’ve been through a lot.  I started blogging in 2006, and began this lifecast in 2007.  I chugged away, dutifully recording these bits of my existence, photographing and captioning and – especially in the first years – reflecting quite alot, ruminating on life, love, and happiness.  Sometimes I shared deeply personal stories with you, other times – lately – not much at all.  Sometimes I offered you advice. Sometimes I just postedawesome photos of my pet dog. I did these strange, sometimes hilarious, sometimes awful things called lipdubs.  [Editors note: This was added seemingly today. It wasn’t there last night.]I filmed over 100 episodes of a little show called TMIweekly.  I got a tattoo.  I fell in love, got heartbroken, fell in lust, got heartbroken, dated and loved, dated and liked, dated, dated, and finally fell in love again. At this point my heart is so battle weary and scarred I can’t even tell if it’s broken or intact, but I’m leaning towards broken. I talked about my faith – which I came into (relatively) late in the game, but which has changed me inexorably as I navigated my way through the byzantine maze of my late twenties.

That maze continues, but I will no longer be documenting it. At least for now. . . .

And it went on and on and on. . .


For one thing, Julia came into the comments as “jerkface” and revealed Prom King’s real name, Justin Weitz. Oh, then she released private videos of her prom date with Prom King and, because she is completely and undeniably sane, as proven by dozens of mental health professionals, she ACCUSED RBNS OF HACKING INTO HER VIMEO ACCOUNT!!!! But that was just the beginning, because  THE RBNS MODS WERE SHITHEADS AND LAWYERS WERE INEVITABLE!!!!! HEEEHAWWWWWW!!!! HEEEEEEHAWWWWWW!!!!

And then it got worse. . .

Someone let the donkey out of her pen, and she stormed the basement, thrashing about, all four legs akimbo, Cheetos tossed in the air as a confused commentariat flailed about shocked by the sheer horror of the BRAYGE!

Yes, I’m talking about ChatGate2010, which was a huge fiasco on all counts. Donks threw a hoof-stomping pity party and invited everyone in chat.

And it was lovely, wasn’t it? Julia played the victim card and let everyone know how sad she was and lied and lied and lied and lied and lied. People asked her about things, she gave non-committal answers. Some people were cordial, like myself and PartyPants, others weren’t having it, like most of our commenters and Jacy.

So what did we learn?

  • She really doesn’t like being called “donkey.”
  • The Jordan catastrophe was just as bad as had been inferred. They no longer speak.
  • Julia and Mary are no longer friends.
  • NonSociety is officially a non-business. It is just used as a platform for them to pursue their own projects.
  • She was currently looking for a therapist.
  • She had to start blogging the following Monday because of contractual obligations.

It was never revealed what those “contractual obligations” were, and, yes, she did go to a therapist, but that endeavor was immediately abandoned as she spent the rest of 2010 as a pack mule criss-crossing the country.

Yes, we learned things, but not without casualty. The very idea of Donks taking a huge dump in our playground infuriated most RBNS readers and reignited Gawker’s ire, which is the only blog on the entire internet that is actually allowed to blog things and have opinions, so said Julia Allison’s former intern.  You people were pissed, and I felt the need to explain myself. (Editors Note: I officially rescind anything I said in that post. Nowadays, I just think she’s a cunt.) Most of you were understanding and reaffirmed your undying love for me, the most awesome person in the world.

PartyPants, on the other hand, well, you people said mean things about her and she got PISSED and picked up her boxes of Franzia, threw a huge hissyfit and stomped out of the basement. The entire mess was known as the Great Flounce: The Bitchfit and Sudden Exit of PartyPants.

So ChatGate 2010 claimed a victim, and PartyPants was kind of mourned. (I don’t really know, because I was just confused as to why she was so god damn pissed off at me.)

ChatGate 2010 and Julia Allison’s much talked about exit from the internet turned out to be a scam, however. The psychotic breakdown was merely an excuse for the New York Post to post a lame ass article by Julia Allison on how she is the world’s biggest victim. Holocaust survivors everywhere simultaneously told her to fuck off, and Julia Allison was immediately demoted from 3/4’s to only 1/4 Jewish.

Despite the fact that Julia Allison never really left the internet to begin with, her return the following week was met with great fanfare. The next chapter in her blerging career marked the beginning with a months-long obsession (I am tots not kidding, at all) over Prom King, the ex-boyfriend with whom she was never actually in love to begin with. Her return to the internet also marked the beginning of her mutation from Carrie Bradshaw into one Elizabeth Gilbert, author of Eat, Pray, Love and another incredibly selfish twat who just needs to get over herself.

I don’t know whether we’ll get back together or not, but I do know that I have made a promise to myself that I will NEVER make these mistakes with another man again.

Here’s what I’ve done in the intervening time:

  1. Re-read every single text he ever sent me.  Cry.
  2. Re-read every single email he ever sent me.  Cry.  Forward some to him.  Realize that’s really pathetic.  Regret it.  Cry more.
  3. Call him about seven times in the first three days, crying.  Realize that’s really, REALLY pathetic. Regret it.  Cry more.
  4. Replay every single scene in our relationship where I screwed up, and reenact those scenes with a different reaction on my part – and new outcomes.  Like Sliding Doors except no Gwyneth Paltrow.  Then cry.
  5. Call my mother at least three times a day.
  6. Attempt to meditate like a Buddist monk. Fail.  Stupid monks never broke up with anyone.
  7. Lose appetite. Not eat much.  Then eat chocolate.  Then not eat much again.  Weigh myself.  Secretly think that only benefit to breaking up is break up weight loss.  Still would rather be fat and with him.
  8. Decide never to date again.
  9. Decide that “never” means at least a month.
  10. Contemplate buying one-way ticket to ashram in India, all Eat Pray Love style.
  11. Realize I don’t know of any ashrams in India.  Think maybe I should just go to Italy and eat instead.
  12. Wonder if I’ll ever find anyone who treats me as well again.
  13. Cry.
  14. Play with my dog … constantly.  Realize dog and mom are only things that cheer me up.  Talk to my dog a little. Watch dog yawn: Dog has seen many of these breakup-meltdowns.  Dog knows “this too shall pass.”
  15. Days pass.  Things get better.  Then they get worse.  Then they get better.  Then worse.  Up. Down. Up. Down. Down. Down. Up.  I’ve been here before (too many times), and I know – intellectually – it will get better.  That doesn’t always make it feel better right here, right now.
  16. Actually work out.  This is a small miracle inandof itself.
  17. Go to church.  Yes. Church.  In Manhattan.
  18. Talk – multiple times – to every close friend I have.  They all check in with me at least every other day.  This does help, you know.
  19. Force myself not to call ex.  Succeed.  Feel very victorious.  Call my mom instead.  I have a good mom.
  20. After a horrible, fitful night of non-sleep, give in and ask my doctor for an Ambien prescription – just to get me through these next two weeks or so.  Feel a little embarrassed, but the only thing worse than getting over a break-up is getting over a break-up on no sleep.

Dear, Lord did she get annoying, like a genital herpes of breakout that just wouldn’t go away.

Speaking of genital herpes. . .

NonSociety got raging case of it, with open, puss-filled sores popping up all over the place in the form of new NonSociety contributors.

First, there was the Katz Lady, who taught the uglies how to set their make-up guns to “tranny-whore.” Then there was, Melissa Kondak, was was never interesting enough to really learn what she does anyway. Then the beautiful Laura Hunter, who, despite being an out-of-work actress, has survived the year without being annoying. Then there was former NonSociety intern Emily Rose, who gave up a well-paying job with upward mobility to move across the country with a boyfriend who clearly hated her and blog for Julia Allison. With her came, Katrina’s husband Brant, who is tots not gay at all and is completely qualified to blog despite having limited watercress experience. It was refreshing to see a completely heterosexual man on NonSociety who didn’t have even the slightest semblance of gay face.

Then came Lisa Diane, the main reason why the U.S. should wall up all of its borders. The dumb, conservative hick had the peculiar perspective of being a Canadian who was obsessed with American politics. Then came Jordacted’s replacement, Crystal Engorged Vagina. Finally Artax and the one with the kid.

We attempted to cover all of these people, but they were all insanely boring. Not that it mattered anyway, considering for the most part, none of them blog on NonSociety with any regularity anymore. (And we should know about regularity, considering that, because of NonSociety, we know every time Julia Allison drinks some nut juice and takes a shit.)

No, there were no more dramatic departures from the NonSociety banner. They all kind of just slinked away, including Meghan Asha, long time sister who quietly left as a regular contributor to NonSociety — she has barely blogged since April — to paint with all the colors of the wind.

She got lost in the wilderness, listening to the wolf cry to the blue corn moon and then get really confused about why the moon wasn’t actually made of corn. Actually, no, she just got tired of Julia’s shit and went off to do her own thing. What was that thing?

She went to India for a bit to sell these leather scarves to the Hindi population in India, because to them, dead cows aren’t really that big of the deal.

Speaking of bad ideas, I neglected to tell you about the other NonSociety contributor, the fresh, stencil-faced, glittery unicorn who single-handedly proved to the U.S. Armed forces that the geighs can fight (and shower) side by side with our fellow trips: Thomas James Kelly, better known as My Gurl Teej.

TJ is a queer little one, and by “queer” I don’t mean gay, I mean perplexingly and mind-numbingly tacky — so tacky that America’s Next Top Model‘s J. Alexander sent him a strip-o-gram asking him to tone it the fuck down.

And, no, he didn’t oblige. He didn’t even try.

TJ Kelly rammed the “mo” up homosexual’s ass so deep that the entire American gay community marched up to Capitol Hill to tell our nation’s senators that, “You know what? We probably don’t really deserve equal rights.”

Of course, saying things like this got TJ’s puckering asshole in a bunch, so he skipped over here to tell all us bitches to get off his cock. Basically he blew glitter in all of our eyes and fluttered back off to the bathhouse. This blog really bothered him. I felt bad, so I sincerely wished him happy birthday.

The offensive minstrelsy paid off, however, because armed only with a GED and Alcoholics Anonymous meetings, TJ accomplished something that Julia Allison has been trying to accomplish for years.

He landed a reality show: The A-List: New York, God’s punishment for the gays’ love of Xanadu. There is not much to say about this horrible, horrible reality show other than that it was vapid, offensive, boring, and it featured a lot of TJ. I attempted to recap this show, but it was absolute torture.

Julia Allison was tots supportive, having never actually seen an episode of this shitshow. Of course, I don’t blame her for not watching.

So TJ got famous, while every gay man in America went out to fuck a woman, because they were so very ashamed.

Of course, this blog didn’t come out of the closet. It was still very much about punching donkeys.

After the epic meltdown that was ChatGate, Julia spent the following weeks wallowing about the fact that Prom King put his wallet away while trying to revive her dead and buried career.

She was promoted from filming segments for the back of taxicabs to filming segments for the back of airplane seats. She filmed even more pilots that were guaranteed to never be picked up and tried desperately to prove that, man or no man, she was seriously in demand. In fact, she was so in demand that the Learning Annex asked her to give dumbasses advice on how to become a completely and total sham and failure.  Yes, she is such a career woman, even though the one thing she did in years that had the most promise (and that’s really a stretch) crashed and burned.

She also went to events and wore horrible, horrible outfits that were so very super-saggers mermaid chic.

But despite her desperately trying to look busy by faking this thing some of us call a “career”, she spent most of post-ChatGate being incredibly introspective and contemplating how to nourish her spirit because she saw the cover of a best-selling book that one time.

For one thing, she apologized to all her readers for being a complete and total twat, and she promised to open up comments on her blog soon. (SPOILER ALERT! She never did. And she’s still a twat) She also planned to sublet her apartment and go live at an ashram for several weeks, a la Eat, Pray, Love, because she didn’t have one original idea whatsoever.

It got so annoying, I had to go all Madonna on her ass.

But while Julia Allison was trying to reform herself into some spiritual, sane human being who promised not to date,  she was secretly harassing an ex-boyfriend from three years ago, one who, may I remind you, like Prom King, she also was not in love with. She seriously would not stop blogging about him. He begged her to stop and called her a creepy stalker of the Glenn Close variety. And because she was fascinated with snagging a man, any man, including one that had a fiance, she became Cunty McCunterson, Mayor of Cuntington Farms, Cuntuckey, U.S.A., Planet CUNT.

You see, Julia Allison (so nice!) emailed the fiance of said ex-boyfriend and casually let her know that there was slight overlap in fuckage. It was so fantastically psychotic that it deserves to be read in full.

Julia Allison at 8:10pm
(no subject)

Since [REDACTED]‘s email doesn’t seem to be working, won’t you please forward this along to him?
This will be the last time I contact you – or him.
Good luck in the future.
Thank you.

Wow … the first time I’ve heard from you in 2.5 years and this is how you choose to address me? You sound disproportionately angry.
[REDACTED], I haven’t called or texted you in two years. I don’t even have your phone number! And I haven’t emailed you in over a YEAR! I facebooked messaged you in December – once, to ask you to give me closure, and once to wish you luck in your engagement. I haven’t physically seen you since June of 2007. Even by the most liberal definition of stalking, you would have a difficult time proving that case. :)
I also replied to your fiancee’s facebook message by telling her that I would take down any mention of you if she wanted – but she never replied.
I think I’ve been pretty reasonable. I’ve always said nice things about you and I’ve always told the truth – we loved each other, we were very serious, and I made a lot of mistakes. I don’t think anything about my behavior is horrible. These are my memories, too. Perhaps you’re embarrassed because you overlapped [REDACTED] and me? Because we were still sleeping together and you were still telling me you loved me up well through the summer of 2007, when you were dating her? I assumed that she knew that, but perhaps she didn’t.
I’m sorry you’re upset, but you could have dealt with this in a much more reasonable manner.
I’m actually exceptionally grateful that you finally responded – at least I can move on now!! I wish we could have been friends, but I have my answer. Thank you for that.
Good luck in your future marriage to [REDACTED]!
Take care of yourself,
PS. So does this mean I’m not invited to the wedding? ;)

Lest we forget, THESE WERE HER MEMORIES TOO!!!!!!

Bear in mind that this was sent right around the time Julia spent time at an ashram, a place with absolutely no internet, getting all peaceful and shit for several weeks (actually a little over two weeks), an experience so powerful and life-changing that she is still processing it. And before you say anything, no, it wasn’t a fat camp.

The experience was so powerful and transformed her so immensely that she cut her trip short to tag along with Dadsers to the Princeton reunion in hopes of landing a husband!

I don’t think I have to tell you that, no, she did not succeed in landing a husband. And no, she doesn’t look good in orange.

We really should give her credit, however. The ashram did indeed change her. She stopped asking for free shit. She stopped attending events wearing ridiculously inappropriate outfits.

She stopped pulling all-nighters. She stopped playing victim about the fact that people on the internet hate her and proclaimed that there is no privacy on the internet, even though she recently tried to lock down her Facebook. And she stopped desperately hunting for a husband and bitching people out on Twitter when she couldn’t snag one.

Remember the millionaire matchmaker yacht party, where Julia bitched and bitched and bitched? You know, that time when Julia was kind and grateful and appreciative, and it  PISSED JANIS SPINDEL OFF? It was incredibly awesome.

Of course, I could see why she wanted a husband so badly. She scheduled Prom King to propose to her in June, right before Brother Britt’s wedding, so she could steal all the attention. Despite her desperate and sad Cathy comic efforts, she would be attending this wedding without a man, she wasn’t acting all psychotic about it.

Her life was falling apart, and it didn’t help that she was officially made homeless.

Yes, she began a fruitless hunt for a new donkey pen, a desperate situation that led to a tirade against parquet floors and creepy stalking of Chuck Bass. It was then that made the OMGHUGE announcement that she was to abandon New York and move to Los Angeles. (ANOTHER SPOILER ALERT! She didn’t.)

The stress of all these life changes got to her, and she made the equally OMGHUGE announcement that she had the squirts.

Yes, she had Celiac disease, and she was going to die. Thank god she wasn’t lactose intolerant because she totally milked it. But if the ceiling cat disease didn’t kill her, the cancer would.

She didn’t nearly die. She just needed the attention because her little brother got married, forcing her to show up single to her wedding dressed as Grimace’s slutty, drunken menopausal aunt.

If men had ANY IDEA what it took to achieve this morbidly obese Janis Dickenson look they would vomit in the shower, AMIRIGHT?!?!

So Brother Britton was married to the beautiful and ineffably tiny and cute Allie. Meanwhile, Julia was without a job, without a man, without a semblance of a career or educational prospects — her quest for Stanford Business School crashed and burned because she sent her admission essay on pink scented paper — no friends, and no home.

With no place to keep her pink things, and with apparently no money, Julia Allison was forced to have a fire sale. And even with something as simple as unloading her boner-killing wardrobe, she still came off as a raging cunt, not missing an opportunity to stick it to her former BFF and sister Mary Rambin and lying about genuinely helping people with AIDS. Yes, she loved helping people with AIDS, because the gays are people, too. And she appreciates the gays in her life, so it was a good thing she was moving, because she opened up her swag closet and gave My Gurl Teej the best re-purposed birfday gift ever.

Pretending that she regularly gave to a charity, despite not knowing what they actual did, let the world know that she was just like Mother Theresa, that is, if Mother Theresa were a WHORE. And like, Mother Theresa, Julia Allison always followed through with her image-repairing promises, which is why she totally followed through with her oath to participate in the Komen 3-Day Walk for Breast Cancer.

No, no she couldn’t participate in the walk because she was too busy running away from New York to begin the Great Transcontinental Husband Hunt of 2010. Julia Allison, the laughing stock of New York’s media and tech communities, finally abandoned New York, and we celebrated in song.

And while all the men in New York City breathed a sigh of relief, that rest of the male American population was put on high alert, despite the empty promise that Julia Allison might go lez on everyone’s asses. The first man who visited his doctor to ask for advice on how to induce impotence was iDonk, a naive son of a bitch who had absolutely no clue as to where he could get reasonably priced asparagus. iDonk described himself as an “eternal optimist” and “hopeful romantic,” and he gave Julia Allison hope that someone would seriously want to fuck this:

Yeah, that’s not pretty. Fortunately, she met someone who could make her beautiful!

That person was Monika de Myer, the photographer who went by the name of Monika de Myer and owned a photography outfit called Monika de Myer Photography. She was from Poland, and her mother named her Monika de Myer. Trust me, you do not want to piss off Monika de Myer, because Monika de Myer will SHUT YOU DOWN!!!!!!!

Julia Allison needed the pretty pictures that were taken by Monika de Myer, because she needed new headshot because OPRAH WANTED TO PUT HER ON THE TEEVEES!!!!!!

Donks received her biggest opportunity ever: a chance to appear on Oprah’s new reality program called Your OWN Show. The prize: your own show on Oprah’s brand new cable network.

Jules was this close to becoming the next Nate Berkus, the next Rachel Ray or Doctor Phil or Gayle King or Dr. Oz, and she would have made millions and would have been admired by millions of idiotic housebound woman across the country.

And because, as is evident from everything else in this massively long blog post, Julia possesses profound intellect, she turned the opportunity down. I mean, HOW DARE Oprah for making Julia sign a fairly standard contract in order to appear on a Harpo reality show. The very thought that there were clauses meant to protect Oprah’s interests was just soooooooooooooooo draconian. It was perhaps Julia’s stupidest mistake ever, because the winner of this reality show is going to be so god damn rich and famous . And she tots could have won. All she had to do was take classes to learn how to act like a decent human being. I was just dumbfounded by Julia’s decision to say to Oprah, “Bitch, please, with your legalese!” that I had to put on my dusty publicist hat and give Julia Allison some much needed career advice by highlighting that she has absolutely no career prospects at all. (I have to pat myself on the back. It was pretty epic.)

Oh, well. She may not tap into Oprah’s billions, but at least she has her career filming Fashion Week online-only segments for a local television outlet.

It’s pretty awesome that Fashion Week happens twice a year, because we get many a horror.

And these are the sorts of things that make me want to get on my knees and thank Jesus (not like THAT, you sickos!).

By now you, if you are still reading (and if you are, you’re a basement-dwelling loser), you should be pretty impressed with my studies in donkology. Alas, I don’t have the doctorate as a sign of my wasted efforts, although you can consider this treatise my dissertation and defense. I guess, I never actually pursued a degree in narcissistic twat studies because I didn’t actually think you could get one, but guess what? YOU CAN!

Someone named Alice E. Marwick from NYU can now be called “doctor” because she read Gawker, followed Julia Allison’s career and attacked RBNS. Conclusion: We are all misogynists. The whole exercise shamed the American system of higher eduction. And yet, Julia Allison still cannot get into grad school.

My knowledge of Julia Allison is scary. But you know what is even more frightening? Julia Allison.

Seriously how is this not frightening?

Julia Allison spent much of the fall aimlessly flying between San Francisco, Chicago and New York, criticizing former employers and people who actually have real jobs that they go to everyday, and sending creepy ecards to donkey stuffers that congratulated them on the size of their enormous cocks.

You know who I’m talking about: Greasy! A man who not only fucked a donkey, but also put on a costume!

Because it’s always rinse and repeat with this one, our outing of Taylor Greason (although, we technically didn’t out him) turned on the brayge, and Julia Allison, having absolutely nothing else to do while waiting for the official announcement of her syndicated column (we’re still waiting. . . ) decided to come into the chat room. . . again.

This time, I wasn’t so nice. I pretty much just called her a “cunt” over and over and over again, while she hinted that she had done some sleuthing and discovered my identity. She discovered someone’s identity, too bad it was  a person that I had never met in my life, and too bad it was a person who had absolutely no idea who I was. So the crazy, psychotic, creepy harassing emails ended up being misdirected. Good work, donks. You totally fucked it up, and still have no idea who the fuck I am. Of course, because absolutely no one asked, Julia Allison took the time to tell the RBNS mods that Tim Ferriss, blowhard and author of the Four-Hour Work Week, gave her a four-second pussy pump that one time.

No one really cared.

Anyway, her actively annoying us on places that weren’t her blog or Twitter forced me to take a breather and I declared Donk-Free week, and try as she might, she made sure she was extra cuckoo so we would pay attention to her again. And, yet again, lawyers were inevitable.

Pretty much though she was just killing time until Slutoween, which she spent in Las Vegas alone attending personal growth workshops and being confused for a prostitute and harassing the Transportation Security Administration.

But it wasn’t until after Halloween that she got rid of that monstrosity and put on her real costume: conservative WASP-y douchebag who hates the gays (and I mean really hates them). Trust me, that particular costume paid off later.

Despite being “very liberal,” she would eventually snag a McCain, but for the time being, she wanted to have naked cuddle time with her best friend Greasy and professing her love for him by buying a coffee for herself.

But, alas, Greasy didn’t want to spend Thanksgiving with Donks, so she retreated to the ashram, scene of profound transformation, and blogged about how she comes from a very long line of war heroes.

But never mind Thanksgiving, anyone who has been around here for a while know it’s really all about Christmas, the time of the year when the angels descended from the heavens to tell the shepherds keeping watch by night that Julia Allison is a FUCKING LOON!

But just when we were sincerely getting bored with her, just when we were questioning this questionable exercise, Julia Allison pulled the ultimate coup. She was cheating on Greasy, poor Greasy, and fucking the son of Senator John McCain.

Yes, ol’ Pancakes up there will be macking out with Julia Allison in the New Year. And just when we thought her world completely crumbled — that she was homeless, friendless, manless, hopeless sad sort of adult — things are starting to look up.

Gear up for 2011, bitches. Because this thing with Maverick McCain will totally not last, and the cray will be a cray we have never seen before. Let’s hope it doesn’t happen around the time she reaches her OMGEXPIRATIONDATE, because I seriously think she will jump off a bridge.

Anyway, that’s 2010. Was it insane enough for you? I’m pretty sure 2011 will be much, much better. From Jacy and JP, and Russian Girl who has been drunk off her gourd and fisting a goat for months, thanks so much for reading and making us laugh with your hilarious insight and observations. We love you, as much as it is possible for us to love (Note: not that much).

We’ll see you in the New Year!


      • I concur. I love wasting time in this little corner of the internets. Wow, there was a lot of terrible stuff this year. I hated that post sex bathrobe photo, why would anyone post that in public? I also hate JA’s overuse of “suffice it to say”.

      • Her “I had sex” photo was pitiful. I love how Prom King’s clothes and shoes were strategically placed in full view on the furniture just to make sure everyone knew that NAKEDNESS had occurred! (And don’t all men pick up their shoes off the floor and place them on an ottoman?) I know nothing about him but I’m guessing he’s a bit of a tool, himself. Why would a guy go along with such stupid staging by a donkey?

  1. Astoundingly, beatifically, charmingly, delightfully, effulgently, fabulously, grandiosely, humectantly, ineffably, je-ne-sais-qoisly, kaleidoscopically, lovably, magnificently, nebulously, opalescently, perfectly, quiescently, resplendently, superbly, tinily, unusually, veritably, wonderfully, x-uberantly, youthfully, zanily amazing.

  2. This was just amazing. JP I hope you are getting dead drunk right now, because I can only imagine the nightmares you will have tonight, having relived this past year of Julia’s life.

  3. Finished one tub of popcorn and started another. So much funnier than that Judd Apatow shit! Are you feeling the love, JP?

  4. Aww, JP, I have so much crazy love for you right now. You are seriously the funniest writer on the Internet these days.

  5. …huff…puff… i finished reading! HALLELUJAH!
    JP, you had me at “Grimace’s slutty, drunken menopausal aunt.” love you all, and happy new year, with hopefully more donkey hijinks to come!

  6. Damn! I completely forgot I-Donk!

    Happy New Year to all my fellow obese cat fur covered alcoholics!

  7. YESSSSSSSSS, I had forgotten about so much of this. I hope that Pancakes McCain reads this and Jabba flips shit.

    Thanks to JP and Jacy for all the genuine HAHAHAs. Happy New Year and here’s to the most cray cray 2011, catladies and men! Open up the Fancy Feast and Franzia!

  8. What a year. Good times. And by “good times” I mean good times reading JP and Jacy’s posts and all the great comments from my fellow catladies and lads although I guess I should thank Donks for acting like such a loon and inspiring all this awesome. Here’s to another year of crazy!

  9. tl:dr…..

    Kidding!! lapped-up every word….

    You are a great writer, and I can’t wait for
    more crazie in 2011. This is epic, and I’m so
    glad it’s gone-on for so many lifetimes already…..

  10. jp this was amazing. i missed so much epic crazy during the spring and summer, and this was a wonderful recap. you and jacy have done an absolutely fantastic job this year, and i really look forward to the epic meltdown of the donks in the coming months!!

  11. goddammit, i have to meet my catsband for dinner at 7, and i have to choose between showering and reading this??? i have to save it for dessert.

  12. The cunt-wattage of that letter she sent her ex’s fiancée is beyond the cunty pale. (His email doesn’t seem to be working? OMFG-ballz, donkey, really? That is sad squared times psychotic plus evil.)
    The pic of the donkey with suitcases on its back is perfection.
    What I don’t get is why she still refuses to open up comments on her blog. Yes, there would be a shit storm of criticism — her half truths, coy non sequiturs, outright cuntiness, and blatant fishing expeditions deserve to be called out — but she could own it.
    RBNS probably outpaces her readership now, and was established specifically to provide an outlet for the voices she silenced on her own blog. Probably the stupidest thing she has done in terms of her “brand” — an affectation that was pretty weak to begin with and really played itself out some time ago. It’s like watching a basket of laundry tumble on perpetual spin-dry. In Crazytown.
    She needs RBNS; it’s really the only focussed attention she gets, and you can be damn sure she leverages that as often as she can. “See?! I even have a haterz! A whole blog dedicated to ME! These people are obsessed with ME!!” (If she had to actually provide the URL to back up the claim, well, that might not be too comfortable.)
    But it could have all been hers.
    Dumb donkey.

    • I think there was a time when JA was real-ish and almost relatable, then, something happened. Maybe she believed her own hype or something and became insufferable (but interesting to watch), ridiculous and not even in a creative or clever way, false, low class (but w/ money), tacky and hackneyed (can a person be hackneyed?).

      If you guys weren’t so funny, I would have turned away long ago (I think we continue to feed the beast, but can’t stop).

  13. Wow. Seeing the cray-cray condensed like this* leaves me gob-smacked.

    Gurl needs help.

    *JP, you are amazing for being able to collate all this without ending up sobbing in a fetal position. How? Do you do it?

      • Amazing job, this “dissertation and defense” needs to be preserved at the Smithsonian. Future Donkstorians will pore over it like a Kabbalistic text, to find the meaning of the cray.

        Heroic work here, yet I can’t fucking believe this was all just this year. If there’s any doubt left that “Get help” is damn good advice, look at this Chronicle of Cray, a single year of it. Boggling.

  14. Jesus. This was incredible. Seeing just one year of her life written out like this proves her to be even more crazy than I thought. The post-Pancakes (much love and Franzia to the genius who coined this) meltdown will be insane.

    Reading about her life disgusted me. JP, you deserve an exxxtra fun NYE for sifting through Donkey’s mess of a year.

  15. While I feel bad about myself (for reading all that) and worse about JP (here’s a toast to you from my box of wine), I thoroughly enjoyed it.

    Also, can we start a pool on when the Maverick/Donkey relationship will dissolve? Perhaps we could collect a small amount of money and unlike Jackles, actually give it to charity?

    After all, even cat ladies and basement dwellers can feel generous during this festive season.

    • Can we all get together and do one of those “Buy a Donkey for a needy farm family” type deal? I would gladly contribute.

    • That’s an excellent idea. We could take bets, and then give the money to Heifer International so that some needy family in Laos can have a donkey of their very own.

      Hopefully, their donkey won’t leave them for the better looking wealthier family next door all the while pretending that she was tots in love with them but had to leave because the celiac disease made the hay they were feeding her sick.

      Though, the Heifer Donkey and this one will probably produce the same amount of manure, of course, the real donkey won’t need kale juice to make it happen.

  16. Had a glass of Bandol while cruising through the first 4 months of madness…so looking forward to the rest when I get home from dinner. Yep, I’m leaving the basement tonight, cat peeps.

  17. #whilst reading this, i had a bowl of ice cream, half a box of cheez-its (reduced fat! trying to not be obese anymore!), three tangerines, and two glasses of wine (FROM A BOTTLE BECAUSE I AM CLASSY). boy, it was great.

    also, it was during the year-end recap last year that i first Delurked myself (see what i did there) and commented here for the very first time. wheeee! what a year. big ups, JP and jacy.

    • I love reduced fat cheez-its. Better than the full fat counterpart and I am an obese poor so you know I don’t care about calories.

  18. And just when I thought it was impossible to love you any more, you go and do this.

    Happy New Year to JP and Jacy and all you obese haterz.

    I have a feeling that 2011’s cray is going to be epic and I can’t wait to sit back and watch it with all my favorite catladies.

  19. Also, that New Years picture up top is horrifying. Donks looks like she put her face on (as grandmother would have said) with crayons. Waxy, melty donkey.

  20. This was truly breathtaking. I loved reading it all.

    PS – I can’t help but still laugh loudly about the pancakes photo. Everytime I look at it, the two plates of pancakes and their grins. It just brings tears from laughing so hard.

  21. Safe to say she’ll be looking pelt-a-riffic in time for the OMGExpirationDate Barfbray Crash:

    JuliaAllison: @PlatinumSeamles – definitely wearing them in my profile pic! But haven’t had them in since Nov now. Looking forward to a new set in Feb!
    4 minutes ago via Echofon in reply to PlatinumSeamles

    Magical times ahead, cat ladies!

  22. Well done, indeed, JP! I took the entire afternoon off from sitting in a chair doing errands just to absorb (?) process (?) — you know, whatever it is Donk can’t do with the glutens — it all. I will need to write off the time as a partial vacation day, which is appropriate, since it had the same effect as revisiting a favorite destination. I am, per my trusty Thesaurus, refreshed, revivified, relaxed, resuscitated, reawakened, restored, renewed! And ready! (to do errands from my chair again in the coming year, offset with visits to RBNS to enjoy your takes, and Jacy’s, and the commenters’, on the neverending story of a Donkey’s ridiculousness.) Happy New Year one and all!

  23. I saved this entry until I was drank enough to fully appreciate it. I’m glad I did. This was a beautiful thing. Mazeltov, JP and Jacy!

  24. Guys, I was reading this on the exercise bike at the gym, and I LITERALLY dropped my phone. Then there was stunned silence as I tried to process this all.

    They are our memories, too, y’all.

  25. JP, this post was ineffably refreshing, astoundingly articulate, and indubitably brilliant. Happy New Year, haters!

  26. I wish I could write half as well as you – fucking hysterical the entire way through. Please don’t ever stop doing this.

    I cannot wait to watch the McCain thing crumble. As much as I detest all things McCain, it will be a joy watching this implode.

    My biggest regret is I will be in Africa during her 30th birthday retardation.

  27. Jesus H. Christ… I just wasted the last 3 hours of my life reading through this and getting side-tracked off into previous posts. WTF is wrong with me?

    Julia Allison Baugher owes me 3 hours of my life back, dammit. 🙁

  28. This was one epic year for The Cray. Holy Crap. When it’s all summarized like this in one place it really does hit you.

    Also, her last-minute need to fly home to vote while dressing up like a patriotic polical wife and name drop Mark Kirk all over the place makes sense in light of her obvious stalking of Pancakes McCain. They met a few weeks before election day. Well, all of that plus her scrubbing of “very liberal” from her FB profile.

    I am of the mind that she will get pregnant before letting Pancakes get away.

    • i thought this too but now am on the fence, since Darling Julesie is incapable of learning from her mistakes–and failing to get knocked up by Prom King was a mistake.

      At this rate, stay-at-home mom is the only career that she can have that would generate revenue.

    • Honestly, the idea of a woman getting pregnant to land a man disgusts me. I hope to God Julia isn’t that horrible of a person, although I wouldn’t be surprised if she was. My friend’s brother’s girlfriend faked a pregnancy and I saw firsthand the mess it wreaked upon their family. I hope Julia isn’t that big of a bitch, although I can honestly see her doing it.

      • I should introduce you my about to turn age 40 friends, I am surrounded by a pandemic of “accidental” pregnancies, it’s really quite disturbing. Particularly for everybody’s cats.

    • On the one hand, she is totally that cray cray, but on the other hand…she still thinks she’s hot enough to rock some of the ridiculous costumes she whips out, so I doubt she’s keen on wrecking that fab-u-lous body of hers (and those PERFECTLY SYMMETRICAL BREASTS!!) with a baby who will just steal more attention from the Donkey show, a la Allie and Britt getting married.

      • Yes, I hear you. But I base much of this on her apparent conversations with that chick who commented about julia wanting a baby on Julia’s “in a relationship” status change on fb.

    • Hmmm. A baby out of wedlock doesn’t seem to fit in with her delusions of WASPy perfection. But I guess desperate times = donkular measures.

      • Oh babies out of wedlock are super trendy now. Also, rushed marriages followed six months later by babies are a WASPy tradition right?

      • And just because someone gets pregnant and insists on keeping the baby does NOT mean the dude will marry the mother! Some guys will just cut the check every month and move on. Julia Allison Baugher = the white Precious

  29. I think a year in Donkey time is a decade in non-psycho time. All of these escapades would take at least a decade for an average catlady with errands to run…

    • She *should* read every word.

      This is proof that in 2011 Julia Baugher McCain needs to go all George Costanza and do the opposite of what she would normally do. She’ll have a much more successful life if she does!

      JP has done the Donkey a MASSIVE favour by collating all her crazy.

  30. Fantastic, JP! The long and arduous process of chronicling “a year in the life of Julia Allison” must have included lots of mini-breaks for vomming in the shower. I’m looking forward to more narcissistic insanity in 2011, hoping for a merger of the McCain and Baugher families. Just think of THOSE Christmas pictures! Thanks for the fun, JP and Jacy…and catladies/catmen, too.

  31. A+++ !!! LAWSY MERCY, you know that little wet fart julia is reading this and wondering what she did wrong still. Keep Bathtub farter + laugher she is, I just know it. dumbass dunkey.

  32. Talk about the shits & grins ~ here I am, settling in w/ a box of snickerdoodle cookie dough to re-visit every one of those links that JP so lovingly compiled.

  33. I almost forgot! This is OT & maybe has already been mentioned here, but guess who was on the TODAY show this morn? The Fingerbanger!

    NO, damn dumb Donkey, he did NOT mention you.

  34. So much to laugh at this year, but I see the trend of that moron getting a PhD (from MIT, no less! ughhhhhh) for writing in defense of a fameball as truly alarming. NOT FUNNY. People might actually take her seriously based on her credentials and not realize that she got a doctorate in Donkology. I remember reading part of that ridiculous thesis and groaning. It was soooo poorly done. **vomits in shower**

  35. Huzzah! I read this tonight while listening to my favorite record of the year by Best Coast.

    I always get a chuckle and think of us all when she sings, “I lost my job / I miss my Mom / I wish my cat could talk.”

    Happy New Year to you all – this site really takes the sting ou of running errands all day.

  36. Reading this makes me hope she gets pancakes to pop the question. Can you imagine the wedding planning cray cray? JP and Jacy would get book deals off of that alone. This was brilliant and the best year end re cap I have read.

  37. Daaayum, just too much donkeyjuicinamazeblahz goodness. JP really needs to get an hononary PhD(onk) for this. I’d almost forgotten about the fire sale and MONIKA DE MEYER. We’ve been through so much together people.

    Now, can we talk about how my username is about to become relevant again. I AM NOT RANDOM!

    • holy crap, i forgot about the “1st annual NonSociety garage sale” or whatever the fuck she called that sadfest.

    • Wait. So Grandma knit that sweater for Dadsers and is now wearing it? So many questions. First, why is it so big as we all know Dadsers is not now and it was supposed to be when he was a child. Second, did he give it back? Why does she have it?

      • I’m certain the grandmom$er is referring to the granddad$er, not the donkey dad$er.

      • Are you sure? I read it three times and grandma said “I knit it for your father” to Julia, which would mean Julia’s father? And Julia said the tag had her father’s name on it?

  38. This took me like 2 hours and 3 margaritas to read. Limited Watercress Experience has to be the funniest thing of all time, seriously. I imagine even trying to explain that to someone who doesn’t read here. Anyways, happy new years you fat losers!! I hope you all snag a repulsive racist of your own this year (even if it’s just a stray cat with a Hitler stash).

  39. Also I have never seen a pic of Richard Lawson and that’s not AT ALL what I thought he’d look like.

  40. Bravo for doing this. Just… bravo.

    *My* fave moments? The fire sale (and the selling of the old, worn heels to a single mom in Tennessee somewhere) and the selling of the gift cards for a 5% markdown.


    • I still can’t get over Giftcardgate. Did she really think someone would give her over $500 in CASH, just for a card that saved them $50???? What a fucking cunt.

  41. Reading about her relationships, have you noticed they end the same ways every time? First of all, they never last more than 6 months. Second, they end one of two ways:

    1 – She gets her ass dumped.
    2 – She leaves the guy for someone with more money/status.

    Every. Single. One.

    Can’t wait to see the McCain thing fizzle out. Not hard to figure out which way it will end this time… 🙂

    • 6 months? more like 6 weeks, these days. and that’s despite the fact she only sees them every few weeks. even prom king–it seemed like they never got to a point where they hung out constantly. it was just OMGBIGDATES, all of it highly staged.

      this bitch is so gross, but i just can’t turn away. even though, you’re right, we all know this relationship is ending by option #1 on your list.

      • And then she cries about these 6 week relationships like they were 6 months. The post above listing how she cries looking back and PK’s texts and emails. Wow. You barely knew him. Some women are bat shit crazy when it comes to men.

      • Braying about a non V20 firm? I have always found it strange that you hate JA so much- you have tons in common.

      • @Partner – sorry, no v20s in my city, and wanted to live in the same city as my OMGfiance after several yrs of living apart earlier in our relationship. btw, i have not much in common with jules–grew up basically neglected in a non-McCain-style military family. not close with my parents, who put a roof over our heads and provided, but i have little in common with them and they didnt pay for anything after i left home. and speaking of home, i go back maybe once a yr, because we’re not that close. perhaps we’d be closer if i was a right wing pro-military christian like them, but unfortunately i read and had an open mind throughout life. i really can’t think of how i’d have much in common with julia. maybe you can help me see all the similarities? damn, i can’t believe i’m responding to this. -AFF

      • @jfa – don’t really care, overshare? i shared hardly anything, other than pointing out that i have little in common with Our Lady of the Braying. this post isn’t at the top of the list so most won’t see it anyway. also not going to change my RBNS commenting. these are my Donkey Memories too!

      • I actually don’t know what is going on either to be honest. I’m just wondering why Afghani is sharing his life story.

      • Yikes. It’s weird to behold commenter overlap in the only two sites I frequent regularly. I guess I really do waste too much time at work. Partner Emeritus is a very mean (and pretty damn funny, unless he’s serious — in which case, pretty damn sick) personage who comments on Above the Law. Haven’t seen him there lately; I assumed he succumbed to apoplexy on the golf course. But apparently He Lives and is slumming here.

  42. Um….Er….

    Wow. Just wow. JP, Donkerpiece Theatre has never been as entertaining as it is when consolidated in this masterful post.
    LOLs are inevitable.

    PS: Donkey

  43. The sad thing is despite all the crazy BS in her mind it’s all justified because she’s within striking distance of bagging a McCain. Every screw over, every backstab, every delusional tweet? It means nothing now that Flapjacks McCain is touching her in her bathing suit area.

    • Well she will make the perfect Senator’s Wife. She and the kids will be happily at home in Scottsdale,AZ. Ruling AZ right along with the other braying cray cray masters of the state. She will be rubbing elbows with the Palins and writing his speeches for his Presidential bid. *now I must go vomit in the shower and move my parents to a sane state for their retirement.*

    • Now that this “relationship” is in motion, she’s trying to play it very cool. No overt mentions on the blog, only the coyest of hints in the tweets. When this one, too, goes south, she’s going to blame blame blame RBNS for stirring up shit.

      Pancakes: for the love of a 1/4 or 3/4 Jewish G-d, look at all this wedding obsession, read this post, and think hard. Then make like Tom and Cruise.

  44. I’m a long time lurker, first time commenter who needed to delurk to say bravo on this masterpiece, JP! I’ve been reading RBNS for awhile, but it’s easy to forget some of the insane crap JA pulls until it’s all compiled like this.

    Thanks to everyone on this site for bringing endless LOLz. I would go crazy running errands at my desk without being able to read all of the hilarious writing and commentary here.

  45. This whole post gives me urges in my areas.
    One tractor trailer load of Franzia is on its way to RBNS topsecret world headquarters from the great white north.
    Thanks JP, Jacy and RG!

  46. Can someone explain the fall-out with PP? I wasn’t around for that. But props, that was an awesome recap and it’s amazing that someone could fuck up so many times in just one year. Holy shit.

  47. It’s possible this post brought me the greatest happiness of my internet career. Thank you, JP, wherever you doth roam.

  48. This was epic! Kept from doing anything remotely productive for a good two hours, but well worth it!

    OT: Oh hey, Pancakes, Julia was chatting with her BEST FRIEND last night. Just in time for your NYE dinner.

    One conversation. Eleven dropped calls. Screw you AT&T!!!!!

    @ttrujillo – I’m in Chicago, he was in SF. I think the dropped calls were his fault. The lack of network coverage there is INSANE.
    7 minutes ago via Echofon in reply to ttrujillo

  49. Koala Dick made me LOL. Unsurprisingly, Lawson is just as charming in person as you’d expect, which is to say, not at all.

    • I’ve never seen a picture of him before. He really does look like a koala. His writing is awful and I can’t believe the praise he gets in the comments.

    • I was really taken aback, re-reading that piece a year later. Quite an uncalled-for hit job. Worse than i remembered. Glad they followed up with Jacy’s reply, but truncating it was sort of dick. On the good side.. I’m sure it meant more readers for here. Myself included. Let’s face it, the whole Gawker crew are a bag of snotty jerks. Not as clever as they think they are.

  50. Long time lurker here, this post is fantastic; I too would not be able to make it through my errand filled day without the lulz that this site produces. JP & Jacy I applaud you. Happy New Year!

  51. I thought I had a doctorate in psychology. Turns out I flunked out after fall semester of sophomore year. I missed so much.

    Holy. Shit. Leaking it to you guys that Jordan grifted THOUSANDS of dollars? Leaking it that Kendrick lost his job? Braying about how much she didn’t love Prom King and then having a public nervous breakdown when he dumped her ass?

    That email to her ex’s current fiancee is the cuntiest thing I’ve ever seen. How can she live with herself? And how could she write “I guess I’m not invited to the wedding? :)” at the end of an email where she claims she was boning the groom while he was dating the bride IN A FUCKING email to the bride?!?

    JULIA. I know you are reading this. What you did there was a disgusting, vile, and unbelievably cruel and unnecessary thing to a woman who has done nothing to you. When FlapJack McCain leaves you and you blame this site for ruining your life perhaps you should look at how your shitty actions have set into motion a shitstorm of horrible professional and interpersonal karma, and that the pain you’ve caused the people mentioned in this brilliant recap will come back to bite you in the ass for years to come.

    Normally I just laugh at the Donk but I’m feeling especially rage-y because, as I’ve told you guys, one of my best friends is now dating one of her exes and I will lose my shit if Julia so much as even visits her facebook page. I know it’s going to happen and it makes me sick.

    Ugh. Long day traveling from Asia back to the states. I’ve lost my Zen. Sorry. Carry on.

    • I agree. That email may be the cuntiest thing she has ever done and that’s really saying something. The inappropriate use of emoticons really gives me the brayge.

    • Totally agree with you. It’s one thing to type that kind of an email to get your anger out, but it’s another thing to actually send it!!!!

      God Bless your friend that is dating her ex because he is probably scarred from the donkey. Hopefully you’ll get some comical stories to relay that won’t get traced back to either your friend or her man because you know then the donk will harass them and you don’t want that.

  52. I like how in the first picture her pancake makeup is about 12 shades lighter than the rest of her skin. That must really turn Flapjack on, all her tonics and potions and fake hair and nails and horse teeth and dead soul. I can see what he sees in her. It’s quite clear. Except what? He fucks that?

  53. I just saw oprah as she was promoting the show Donks was supposed to be a part of. Carson Kressley and Nancy o’dell would have eaten her for lunch. It is disappointing because it would have been hilarious. she probably knew she could not hack it and used the contract as an excuse.

  54. This is an awesome recap. I have only one issue; why included pp? I thought this was a Julia recap? It’s unnecessarily hurtful. Why not communicate with PP directly instead of on the blog? I don’t know. Just odd. I understand chatgate needed to be discussed, and perhaps a bit about PP’s involvement but the personal stuff along with picture is a low blow to someone who entertained many of us here for a long time.

  55. Wonderful work. Disappointed at no mention of the phrase “Listening tour for my new job.” Even thinking about it now it still annoys me.

    But I do like Granny and that sweater.

  56. This was incredible, JP. Thanks so much for taking the time to put all the cray together in one place.

    What really makes me aghast is the number of horrendous pictures of herself she posts. Can she not see how unattractive she looks in some of those? She truly is in love with herself. It’s amazing how much her face changes throughout a year and how she lacks the ability to see that, proudly posting the lumps and clay and overbotoxed nastiness.

    I guess that’s a metaphor for her entire life, though.

Comments are closed.