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Elizabeth Wurtzel refuses to grow up

I love this crazy, talented bitch. Any personal stories? Was she really fired from a Dallas newspaper for plagiarism?

I went to a party in Williamsburg, where I definitely do not live, and was 50 percent older than anyone else. When I told a gentleman that I am 45, he was shocked. He wondered what I know that Ponce de Leon did not. Mainly it is a refusal to be a grown-up. Or just having missed the leading milestones. I have never been married, which has spared me the unhappiness of that, and the misery of a divorce. Or two. Or three. I don't have kids, so I don't invest energy in telling people how gifted my children are, or in figuring out how deep into the spectrum of autism they fall—nor do I turn over my hard-earned cash to SAT tutors and Mandarin coaches. Of course, I have been deprived of the pleasure of breastfeeding my baby on a barstool in a Park Slope tavern while nursing a Campari and soda, but I will survive the privation. (And it may yet happen.) Evasion and avoidance are hallmarks of youth.

I have been very promiscuous, sometimes with men I get to know better and sometimes with men I never see again, but the pleasure is mine. I did too many drugs until enough was enough, but I would not have missed it for all the drugs I haven't done since. I am preternaturally truthful. I scream and yell about what bothers me. I promptly apologize when I am wrong, and sometimes when I am not, sometimes just to make things better: Love means having to say you are sorry quite a lot, actually. I spend money like it is going out of style, which it is. I wear very short skirts and very high heels whenever it is appropriate, and sometimes when it is not. I have far too many pairs of jeans and platform boots. Oh well. I don't eat meat, and I eat lots of salad: boring. I drink red wine—never white, which does not count—but not for breakfast anymore: boring. I love a great cocktail—I especially love the kinds with blueberries or pomegranates in them that no serious drinker would countenance. What is so great about being serious? I used to do cocaine and go running; now I just go running. I am fiercely loyal. I am vicious when necessary, sometimes just for fun. I put Vitamin E on my lips. I solve most problems with duct tape, and most problems can be solved with duct tape. I tell people what I need. I insist. I say what I want, which is the same as what I need. I choose my principles over my desires. But I will lose an argument over a matter of principle sooner than I will give in over a matter of honor: My honor is my deepest principle, and I will be damned if anyone is going to be disrespectful, even or especially for dumb reasons.

Sometimes, maybe even a lot, I say things that are ridiculous. Sometimes I am ridiculous. There are worse things.

I live with a wolf and a panther—actually, a dog and a cat, both black, both very wild, it's better that way. I am interested. I am interested in everything, except the things that aren't interesting, which is too much lately. When I meet someone new, I don't ask about his job, and I try to avoid finding out for as long as is possible, because what you do for a living is not who you are: I have dated enough bartenders and, worse, lawyers to know that. I wear sunscreen during the day and Retin-A at night. I do what I want. I don't do what other people want me to do. Sometimes I don't do things I want to do because someone else wants me to do them too badly. I am just that way: I cannot be bossed around. I listen carefully when someone is talking to me. I ask for help. I offer to help.

by Anonymousreply 2507/31/2013

I have never been a member of Congress, or any other elected body. I have never spent days arguing over one or two percentage points that don't matter while lives really do hang in the balance—I mean: by nooses, from rafters, in barely lit basements, for real, out of actual despair, because of the failure of what is not a system at all. I have never voted Republican, but I have never voted Democratic either—I always vote for the Liberal candidate, because I am liberal, very liberal, very very very liberal. (I even voted for Giuliani that way.) I have never been a pundit, so I don't say the same things everyone else is saying, and then keep saying them repeatedly, redundantly, over and over again, on and on, on TV. I don't make predictions about trivial matters or even about important matters, because what is the point? We will know soon enough. I do not worry about what is going to happen; I enjoy what is happening. We will know which way the wind blows the weathervane when it starts spinning. Sure enough: Susan Rice is not Secretary of State. Only an idiot would have predicted that such a thing could possibly come to pass. Only an idiot would prognosticate at all. Such activities only give you gray hair. I am going to die a dirty blonde. A very dirty blonde.

This seems a good time to mention something about my voting record: My ex-boyfriend, who works for the government, tells me that the Liberal Party in New York was just a money-making scheme for some crooked politician, and really it would have been better if I had not cast so many ballots as I did. Apparently, this is the way of third parties. It is, of course, the way of political parties in general. Don't you get the feeling that they are all money-making schemes for some crook? I kind of do. But more to the point, I would love my ex-boyfriend to take a stroll through my home, and tell me what of all that I own—including the rented apartment I don't own—is not essentially a money-making scheme for some crooked person somewhere. My iPad, my iPhone, my iBook, my iJail: I am Steve Jobs' bitch in so many ways, and my world is cluttered with stuff that I need or don't, but excepting my very wonderful fake chinchilla comforter which is warm and wonderful—part Arctic Circle, part Nevada Whorehouse—I can think of few things that have made me quite so happy as I am when voting on the Liberal ticket. Because I like doing what I want. And I will let the train in vain of corrupt politicians run down someone else's track. I have learned that most things are not my problem.

Nothing is more bracing than not being concerned about what other people think. I have no idea why anyone cares. Trust me: No one is looking. I know: I am looking. People are self-involved. They are all waiting for you to ask about how gifted their kids are. I wish people were judging each other a great deal more, and more carefully, but they are not. Knowing this, I have no trouble being myself. It works well. I will die screaming.

by Anonymousreply 107/30/2013

I...I...I...I...I... WHO CARES?!

by Anonymousreply 207/30/2013

Well, it's shorter than the "You misunderstand borderline personality" thread. Does she really think she might still have a kid? Oh please no.

by Anonymousreply 307/30/2013

Me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me me.

by Anonymousreply 407/30/2013

LOL at R4 and R1

by Anonymousreply 507/30/2013

Who bumped up a thread from 1999?

by Anonymousreply 607/30/2013

What's her diagnosis?

by Anonymousreply 707/30/2013

She has a very strong textbook case of borderline personality disorder.

by Anonymousreply 807/30/2013

That should be "crazy, talent-free bitch".

by Anonymousreply 907/30/2013

I don't think any other Harvard alumna/us ever milked the Harvard name more assiduously and lengthily as Elizabeth Wurtzel has.

by Anonymousreply 1007/30/2013

She really doesn't want to breed, does she? She's has a bad case of the crazies.

by Anonymousreply 1107/31/2013

I had completely forgotten about this woman. It occurs to me that she must be Cat Marnell's idol.

by Anonymousreply 1207/31/2013

What an insufferable bore. I couldn't even get through half of this diatribe.

by Anonymousreply 1307/31/2013

"When I told a gentleman that I am 45, he was shocked. He wondered what I know that Ponce de Leon did not."

She clearly doesn't have a basic understanding of basic social convention. While it is Williamsburg, the capital, home base, and mothership of douchebaggery, what did she expect the guy to say, "listen granny, we don't allow your kind at our parties?"

Notice that she doesn't mention HOW the subject of her age arose and why she "told a gentleman" her age - which I'm betting was some heavy duty compliment fishing. I'm sure she made some humblebrag which induced the guy to ask her age, creating the obligation to comment on how young she looks.

by Anonymousreply 1407/31/2013

Holy fuck, her twitter page reads like a parody. Lizzie, I know you have google alerts so please, don't, don't have children. And please don't take this admonishment that you'd be unfit as a challenge that you can deliciously rebel against because at night when your eyeballs are twitching and you can't sleep and you think about how comforting it would be to have an admirer gaze at you almost as adoringly as you gaze at yourself (and your navel) for at least 18 years.

I put that in your language. I hope you understand.

by Anonymousreply 1507/31/2013

Sorry, here is her twitter page.

by Anonymousreply 1607/31/2013

In two years, she'll have a kid and start a mommy blog. You know she will.

by Anonymousreply 1707/31/2013

Isn't she the girl who was sad once and tried to make it a career?

by Anonymousreply 1807/31/2013

[quote]because at night when your eyeballs are twitching and you can't sleep and you think about how comforting it would be to have an admirer gaze at you almost as adoringly as you gaze at yourself (and your navel) for at least 18 years.

...then what?

If you're gonna be as pretentious as her to teach her a lesson, you need to at least finish your thoughts.

by Anonymousreply 1907/31/2013

Slow clap, R6.

by Anonymousreply 2007/31/2013

She's looked 45 or thereabouts for some time.

by Anonymousreply 2107/31/2013

She looks like a used crack hag. A hard 45.

by Anonymousreply 2207/31/2013

Didn't she go to Yale law and then repeatedly fail the bar exam?

by Anonymousreply 2307/31/2013

In the early 2000s, she applied to Yale Law School and was accepted despite the fact that "… Her combined LSAT score of 160 was, as she put it, 'adequately bad' … 'Suffice it to say I was admitted for other reasons,' Ms. Wurtzel said. 'My books, my accomplishments.'…"[8] She received her J.D. in 2008, but failed the New York bar exam the first time she took it. Wurtzel sparked controversy in the legal community by holding herself out as a lawyer in interviews, even though she was not licensed to practice law in any jurisdiction at the time.[9] However, Wurtzel passed the February 2010 New York State bar exam,[10] and was employed at Boies, Schiller & Flexner in New York City for some time. As of June 2012, she is no longer listed as an attorney with that firm.[11] In July 2010, she wrote a proposal in the Brennan Law Center blog for abolishing bar exams.[12]

by Anonymousreply 2407/31/2013

Very hard 45. Naomi Wolfe has fared better.

by Anonymousreply 2507/31/2013
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