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The following podcast is a dear media production. Do you ever wake up day one of her menstrual cycle and think I might slap a stranger today? That's where I that. Hello, everybody, and welcome to another blissful week amidst global pandemic of the Bitch Bible podcast. Surprise.


It's just me. Go fucking figure. I don't know about any of the other ladies or gentlemen that are listening to this podcast, but day one of my menstrual cycle, just call me Jackie bin Laden.


I am a terrorist. I am deflated. I am manic. I am angry. I am Rashi. I am bloated and I am starving.




If I could eat a stick of butter like a granola bar and maybe I have oh my God, the saltine cracker with the with the butter, with the extra flaky salt. I don't I oh.


Anyhow, this is going to be a very fun show. I'm feeling spicy yet sedated, which is kind of my favorite combination.


So I'm just going to say the thing that we aren't supposed to say.


I wake up every morning and I go on to talk for forty five minutes. I've talked about this on the podcast before.


It just kind of gets my wheels working. It gets me upset in the right way. It gets me angry, gets me reflective. It makes me love myself a little bit more. I'm just going to say the thing that nobody's supposed to say, nothing dehydrates the vision like Jason Derulo on tick tock.


I just maybe it's because I menstrual. But I heard his Savage Love remix first thing this morning and I almost started crying, like actually crying. And I couldn't tell if I was crying because I thought it was so bad it was funny or it offended me or I'm upset or I hate it so much or just I, I really it I did test it and to the point of actual tears, like crying, real cry, real, real tears. These tick talkers are so fucking embarrassing all of you.


So you can fucking dance. Big whoop. I don't care at all. Go to Juilliard. Jody Sawyer. Go fuck Cooper Nielson. OK, Baryshnikov. You mortify me and the captions. Oh my God. The captions orange. You glad I didn't say banana and rot in a fuckin orange sphincter floss or fucking just horsing around like oh my god are you posing with a horse. I hope you get who kicked in your concave vagina. So anyways, by the way, the concave vagina, Heather McMahon said that on this podcast, it when you listen back, you'll understand the concave vagina theory.


So, you know, plug, I'm happy these these, you know, dancers are making money on Tock. I hope that they understand that there is a shelf life and more than anything, I hope they understand their place in the world. I had an epiphany like three days ago.


I consider myself a mediocre, talented human being. And by mediocre, I mean extremely, extremely mediocre.


I've got hutzpah four days. I I'm relatively smart. I'm smart enough. I know how to benefit from people underestimating me, etc. but I am the least talented person in my social vortex and I can appreciate that. I understand it.


I don't want to be an out of season pieni amongst carnations. OK, I would rather be that filler green foliage leaf amongst a gorgeous bouquet of orchids stems. It's inspiring, you know, it's something to live for. It's humbling. Anyways, I have this self awareness.


I can conceptualize that what I do, comparatively speaking, is yikes town USA population to me and my fucking shit to Richard. And I had this epiphany while I was talking to a hym sister.


I try not to tease guests because then people reach out to them and they slide into the Dems and then said potential guests starts really like getting into the history of the Bible podcast and me as a human being. And then they get scared and then they cancel.


But all I'm going to say is it is a possibility that we might get a little hym luvin on next week's episode. If you don't know Hyam, they are like the ultimate Jewish Valley girl fuckin band. They're like alternative pop or I don't really know. I'm not going to, like, hit him with the genre. It's so fucking good. I love their new album so much. It's incredible. I mean, I know alone. That's my favorite song currently off the album.


It's like I just want to get dark chocolate cake cats.


Some might all draw the shades and just bask in the estrogen and like, you know, slap the bass bass face.


Anyhow, they're so talented and I'm a massively charming fuck wad and it blows my mind that people on Tic-Tac doing sad makeup tutorials or like outfits or shit for brains dance routines don't realize the same. You guys are fucking stupid and it's fine because you're making money. That's what I tell myself every morning. But like, you have to understand that you are not in the same caliber of people like of fucking Daniel Day Lewis, OK? Like, you're just not.


You're just not. And that's cool. Baryshnikov, you know, beyond like you're not even you're in it. You're different.


And I just want you know, I mean, I have to tell myself that sometimes I get overly validated by by funds. And the truth of the matter is, I walk into a room many a time where I am the stupidest, least talented person.


And I love that for me. And I just you know, I encourage, you know, the youth of of Tock and or other social media platforms to understand the same.


Like, I'm glad I'm happy for these influencers who make millions of dollars putting outfits on that they're given for free by designers and walking in place and jumping to sad music.


But at the end of the day, you know, we're all just prostitutes and you should know that. OK, bye. Thank you for listening.


Like the fucking Kardashians, just because you end up in the same room with with people of a certain caliber, you're not there like you don't you don't have the same gifts. And that's cool.


And that's what makes the world go round. Q The motherfucking rainbow. OK, I'll tell you what I'll be doing at four fifty nine pm on this beautiful Tuesday, I will be popping a gorgeous hard zeltzer by vizi.


Now I've been talking about Vizi for a while. They sponsor the show. I drink them like they're going out of style. I see a lot of people who listen to this podcast tagging me.


They're doing the same. We are digitally choosing. I was pretty anti hard Zeltzer until I found Vizi to be totally transparent. I really felt that they tasted like chemically sparkling water and they just hated the flavors. They felt so like just just gross really. That was until I started drinking vizi. So they come in for delicious flavors.


My current favorite is the Pineapple Mango. Last week I was very into the strawberry kiwi. They taste refreshing. They're perfect for summer. We're having a heat wave in Los Angeles right now. I pour them in a wine glass over ice with some frozen fruit and maybe a sprig of mint if I'm feeling wild. Here's the best thing about the fizzy hard seltzer makes it a pretty easy choice amongst all the hard seltzer's Visy has one thing that the others don't, and that is the antioxidant vitamin C, it's derived from the Azorella cherry, which is a super fruit, a super fruit with 30 times more vitamin C per cup than a motherfucking orange.


So they've got the pineapple, mango, black, cherry, lime, strawberry, kiwi and blueberry pomegranate.


Andrew and I cannot get enough of these fucking drinks.


They're five percent alcohol content, 100 calories, less than one gram of real cane sugar per can.


It's so refreshing.


You guys are going to absolutely love it. Plus, it's got vitamin C very with the Times upgrade your hard seltzer with Vizi to find out where you can purchase vizi go to vizi hard seltzer dotcom. That's vizi hard seltzer dotcom must be 21 or over to purchase.


As I embark on this new decade of my life, you know, I've been doing a lot of reflecting, I'm looking back and looking inward, I'm looking forward.


I'm looking for a super jumbo tampons the size of a rocket ship, all of the things.


And, you know, when I started this podcast, I was a different person. You know, I was a different bitch. And I think that a lot of the founding principles of this podcast need to be.


Updated a revision, if you will, you know, especially in my relationship, I used to be someone that would want to kick it up a couple notches and you'd be like, stop making a scene. And I'd be like, oh, you don't want a scene?


And like, cue the ribbon dancing. Like, I just loved it. I thought that it was funny. I thought it was effective. I would scream. I like to throw things. I like the drama in my in my wise 30 years on this planet. I had another epiphany recently.


It is so much scarier to be silent. It's mysterious. It's the blank stare that we yearn for. It's the the glaze. It's the wheels working. It's that. Is she going to snap? Am I going to wake up and she'll be gone?


That's the new vibe. Here's a multiple choice question.


OK, let's say, hypothetically speaking, you're in a relationship, you go through your boyfriend's phone, significant other whatever you see that they've been texting an ex-girlfriend, the one before you, perhaps the one that got away. Maybe she had immigration problems. She's abroad.


You know, geography. Who knows? They broke up with no real reason, but they're texting and maybe there's a winky face. Maybe there is a heart emoji. Maybe there's nicknames.


OK, a, do you immediately bring it to his attention? You scream, you cry.


Why are you doing this? Why are you texting her? Be do you take a screenshot, send it to yourself. Delete said screenshot monitor the situation for at least six months whilst laying it on very thick. We're talking six course meals, we're talking big DJs for days. We're talking just chipper as a Christmas chicken. OK, see, no, I'm only going to give you two options. You need to go with B always and forever.


There is something so deeply terrifying about a woman with a glazed, distant stare.


And I just realized that like four days ago, I don't know if it's because of quarantine or lockdown, but a lot of you have deemed me for advice about what to do. If you do catch your boyfriend talking to their ex-girlfriends. Now, I. I kind of go back and forth on this one, I don't think they should be chummy, chum, chum, chum, but at the same time, it's also a red flag to be with someone that has a really toxic relationship with his ex girlfriend.


I also find that to be very weird. Like, why did it end so badly? Oh, she's crazy. Well, then why the fuck did you date a psycho? Well, why did you marry one, Andrew? That's a better question.


But like, you know what I'm saying? I think that it's very convenient for men to just slap a label on their ex. Oh, she's crazy. She's insecure. She's this. But like to have such a vitriolic. I don't know if that's a real word. Word of the week. Vitriolic vitriol. Don't care.


Don't know. Just roll with it here.


Like for it to be that toxic to where you don't speak, that's a red flag. You spent how many years with a person that you identify as a, you know, Osama bin Brenda. What's that say about you and your judge of character? And then what does that say about me if me and her are both in the same romantic history together?


You know what I'm saying? So that's something to think about. I'm very lucky. But also kind of it's it's a missed opportunity for me to, like, really delve into Andrew Pre, Jackie, B.J., if you will.


But and you never had girlfriends before me, which I also think is fucking weird. Allegedly, he was a massive, massive love them and leave them asshole whore all through college.


Just a real mind fucker. And I kind of love that for him. And I appreciate and I think it gives him a bit of an edge.


But I will tell you that when we first started dating, I went on a group trip with him in his college friends.


I don't want to brag, but we got a standard room at Treasure Island. It was very romantic, very exciting. It was either that or the Excalibur. If you know Vegas, you know what I'm working with here.


We went to dinner and two of the girls at the table of a relatively small group, by the way, about ten wouldn't even look at Andrew in the I wouldn't even share broths with him, wouldn't even pass him the fucking Chabert basket. And, you know, as a woman, you can just kind of read the room and you just know something written down.


So I'm looking at him and I'm like, what the fuck did he do? And sure enough, the year before love them and fucking leave them and never speak to him again. And then bring your new girlfriend at the Treasure Island buffet.


Leo, please shut the fuck up. I love you. Please stop. The level of professionalism happening over here is wild, my little sea scallop yesterday was his birthday. You know what I did? I chewed up a carrot. I chewed up an apple. I chewed up a cucumber. I spit it over his food. And then I took a can of tuna and I drizzled the fishy liquid all over his dog food to make a some like a puree.


And he fucking wolfed it. He smells like the Fisherman's Wharf per usual.


If Andrew ever betrayed me, I think that, you know, the ultimate form of maturity and wisdom and just composure and self-love is really in the long game, not the short game. So while it would be difficult for me to stifle my emotions and my gone girl tendencies to just really snap, I would have to dial that back, find my inner peace and channel it into just really emotionless surgical psychological warfare that would only end in a color coded laminated binder from Staples.


I think first in the binder, you know, I would have to really, really catalog his betrayals.


I'm talking screenshots. I'm talking, you know, location pin drops. I'm talking, you know, time logs, I'm talking phone call recordings, anything a stool samples, anything I could get my hands on because I am a woman. I'm a I'm a visual learner. So I think it would be incredibly beneficial to have really a lot of time to compile all my evidence. So it is foolproof. Obviously, I would make digital copies and send them to his entire family, all of his work colleagues, my entire family, my work colleagues, personal friends, loved ones, our rabbi, basically anyone the guy that slices my boar's head turkey down the street are sushi guy, the contractor, the plumber, our, you know, beautiful housekeeper that we love so much.


That's like a mother to me. The woman that Lazar's my vagina are attorneys. You know, really anyone with a pulse. I honestly, I would probably just send it to anyone within a 20 mile radius. I think it would be great.


I would I would publish it. I put it on the Internet, but not before giving it to him first. I think at the beginning of the binder, it would start with really beautiful photos of me just so low.


And then, you know, kind of like a childhood timeline. I think psychologically that would really fuck him up to see me as an innocent child. You know, a Shirley Temple Ashkenazy knock off just innocense behind the eyes, me playing in a field in Idaho. Hanukka morning. Is there a Hanukkah morning?


I don't know, just through all the stages of my life, you know, just to let him fall in love with me all over again and really connect to me during the time in my life where he wasn't present. And then to see the slow decline of what he did to me and kind of the loss of innocence behind my eyes, then I would kick it back. You know, I wanted to be a roller coaster for both of us. So I wanted to see me as a child.


I want him to see me as as a teen. I want him to see me, you know, in my shorts in college. Then, you know, bring it back down. I want him to see us, you know, signing our ketubah, you know, what does that mean to you and you? I thought you were Jewish. Now you signed the ketubah. We should have signed it with blood then maybe trips, travel, life moments, you know, things that we've experienced together.


Then maybe a shot of us at our parents funeral really bring it down and then bring it back up again, our Italian vacation. You know, I want this to be psychological warfare. I want him to know how I have been there for him, had been there for him past tense.


Then I would give myself realistically, I want to say a year.


But knowing me, I probably would only be able to keep this going for six months. So I would be cataloguing everything and it would all be color coded and scented. And first I would have screenshots, then I would have location. You know, I would have all of his locations and a timeline of why were you here at this time and again the next day and again the next day and again the next day.


And then you came home here.


And then I would have coordinating text messages like Obstruents Studio on the way home, but then I would have a coordinating geotag of him at some horse house in the Inland Empire doing God knows what like I would everything would be.


Perfectly organized, laminated, it would be foolproof, you know, like no holes, the foundation would be fucking solid.


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True story. When I was in college, my high school slash college boyfriend, Doug, dumps me and I just I couldn't even believe it. And even now, like I saw him recently, because he did some podcast spots like years ago and we went out for drinks with him and his business partner.


And in the middle of our professional meeting of the minds, I looked over at his business partner and I was like, can you believe that he dumped me?


And I still think about it. Sometimes I'm so wildly out of his league like it is a blow mind. But anyways, after he dumped me, I found this adorable, incredibly handsome, rugged gay man to take salacious photos with me, which I then had a cousin upload to Facebook and tag us both in it because I thought that was like going to be a really cool Luke to have somebody else post the photos.


But they were like kind of blurry and they were kind of candid and we were like fake making out, but obviously not because he likes the pain.


And I have a vision. And it was stunning. It was some of my best work. I put like a thigh high socks on with a boot because I thought that was going to really, really put salt in the open wounds.


So, you know, in a in a younger day, I might think, you know what?


I want to stick it to him. I want him to see me blissfully happy. But that provides closure. And in this new wave, the last thing we want is closure. I have an ex-boyfriend that was much older than me, and I think about him sometimes because I semi emotionally abused him. And, you know, it was the way of it was how I felt like a presence in the relationship because he was so much older than me. Dark times.


And I know nothing about him. I don't know where he is. I don't know where he lives. I don't know if he's married. I don't know if he has kids. I don't know if he's dead. I don't know if he's alive. I mean, I kind of don't care.


But I think about it because I don't know and I don't have access to the information because mystery is power, because then you can take all of this creative liberty and fantasizing or not fantasizing. That's the wrong word. But like, you just don't know what's going on. Maybe he married a princess and lives in a castle and maybe he maybe he got hit by a fucking bus and died. We'll never know. But it keeps it it keeps it in your brain somehow.


Whereas if you provide closure, like, oh, she's moved on, she's happy. She's married. She has two little demon seed children that she thinks they're a lot cuter than they actually are.


Then that provides, you know, the chapter book is closed the fucking end just fully, fully, fully disappear.


I would have a third party make the divorce arrangements, gather my things, but he would never see or speak to me. Probably I'd give it I'd say two years, feel safe, maybe a year and a half, and then I would stage a run in. Brief, brief run in, I would look unbelievable, I would lick raw salmon filets until I got wild food poisoning, shitting my brains out, coming out of every fucking hole. But I would do that probably like five days in advance.


So things would be concave, but I'd still get a little color back in the cheeks, you know what I mean? I mean, obviously, we could achieve that with make bronzer a blush. But, you know, when you're married to someone, they know what you look like naturally. So I would want to look fresh faced and glowing, but natural. So I'd have to get let the food poisoning subside for at least 48 to 72 hours.


I would have a blow dry that would give Clay Aiken a half chub. Is Clay Aiken dead? Why do I feel like Clay Aiken died, did his career? Is he alive? I'm going to feel really bad if he's dead, but even from the grave would give Clay Aiken, you know, maybe not six to midnight, but maybe six to nine forty seven, I don't know, a blow dry that says I'm fresh, I'm clean, and I might have been up all night, you know, downward dog.


What is risky cowgirl?


What's it called? Battleship. What's what's a six reverse cowgirl? I'm a fucking moron. Listen, when you're hot, you're hot, so I'd have, like, you know, a fresh but not too fresh blow dry. I'd probably be wearing, like, workout clothes. So it was unassuming. You want to throw them off your scent. And then here's the ticker. I would be wearing a gold band on my ring finger. Not a flashy diamond, not like a promise ring type, just a simple gold band, because that's kind of out of character for me.


It's kind of demure. It's kind of mature. It's kind of chic. It's kind of glam. And it would be so out of character. So not only would he be like, oh, is she with someone, but also, wow, she's changed. Thus, instilling deep, deep psychological torment and regression and despair and unrest, then I thought, like, should I be walking the dog?


But that would provide closure. He'd get to see our child. Instead, I'd be like, Oh, it's so great to see you.


Keep it brief, brief, brief, brief, brief. Oh, my God. It's so great to see you. How are you doing? Great. I'm doing well. Thank you so much. Mystery. Mystery. I'd be like, oh, it's such a shame. I, I just dropped Leo off.


Where did I drop him off. Where where is he. In the arms of Antonio Banderas, a Latin lover who fucking knows he'll never sleep again. Where's the dog then?


I'd ever so subtly clutch his tricep and look at him in the eyes, warmth, warmth behind the eyes. And I'd say, I hope you're doing well. And then I would sashay Shante off and tell me that that doesn't burn and give you tingles in your goddamn vagina.


I got to say, it's been such a waste of my resources that I've never been cheated on. I'm not saying I would like to be cheated on because I could end up, you know, next sell me to a fucking Betty Broderick.


But I do think that sink or swim, I would really I'd be swimming like fucking Michael Phelps, Olympic sized pool laps on laps, on laps, like I was born for this shit.


Because when I need to, I can dial it the fuck in.


Now, I opened up the Gone Girl floodgates earlier this morning so I could answer some listener questions, because I think it's important to have a dialogue. And I really do want this to be a informative podcast of an elevated educational wavelength.


Someone asked me what my disguise and new alter ego would be. Here's the thing. I imagine myself as a villanelle adjacent.


Now, if one more motherfucking person, I need you to, you know, turn the volume up when I say this, because talk about gone girl. Talk about somebody snapping. If one more person slides into midterms and asks me if I've seen killing Eve and that I remind them of Villanelle, a.k.a. Jodi Commer or whatever she was.


And Dr. Foster, it's the same person. I will drive to your house and I'm going to punch you so hard in the throat that your trachea will combust. We have covered this so many times. I appreciate it.


I think she's beautiful, lovely lass, all of the things. But we've already covered this.


Now, back to my alter ego.


I would probably go with my drag name, Kiki Chagrin, because it is who I am at the core of my being, and I think that it has a nice ring to it.


I would definitely relocate somewhere abroad, maybe Europe, maybe London, maybe a countryside, I'm not sure, whereas Gone Girl went very under the radar with like the mousy brown hair and the foop and, you know, just letting it all go.


I would do the opposite. I envision myself I would start smoking immediately because low key, I mean, smoking kills don't try at kids, but I think it's effortlessly glamorous.


And if it didn't kill you, I would smoke long cigarettes with a blast, a brass cigarette holder just all day, every day. I think it's the sexiest thing. Not lovely to say, but it is my truth. So I would definitely take up smoking and or maybe some other recreational drugs that I've never tried before.


And that is not a joke.


I want to say this on this podcast, and I'm not proud of it because I wish I was more experimental.


I have not tried any drug ever.


I've smoked weed twice and that's it. Maybe three times. Hated it. Got the spins like felt like an air bubble was coming from my vagina all the way up to my throat at three second intervals miserable.


So I would probably take up, you know, the, the cocaine, cocaine just because it's like why not. I would drain all of Andrew's bank accounts and reposition all of his royalties to go into my bank account. So I would be like, you know, I'd really be living it up on his dime.


I would just be draining those funds like a motherfucker.


And I imagine myself in, you know, kind of like the ADCO season, ready to wear twenty, twenty. Lots of feathers, lots of crystals, a big puffy shoulder, bright colors, embellishment.


Like leather suits and pastels, I imagine myself in a lavender leather shorts tuxedo, I imagine myself like in menswear inspired, but in pastel colors, if you know the brand area, I see like a lot of that, a lot of like, just embellished, like harnesses, maybe like a latex hot pant with, you know, a floor length feather blush pink coat. I see lots of statement, jewelry, head pieces, thigh high boots, just like lots of latex, lots of latex, lots of fur faux, of course, wink, wink, marabout, ostrich fringe.


Oh my gosh. During the summers I would obviously only wear LeMay kaftans with like bejeweled sandals and then just tons of diamonds and maybe like a Missoni turban because why the fuck not Kiki chagrin? She is taking a new lease on life and I would really want to lean into that with the ensemble. I'd go Platinum Blonde because like even if my hair fell out, who would care? That would be only add to the disguise. Oh, I'd be doing all kinds of things like very Charlize Theron after she shaved her head for Monster.


What did she shaved her head for? I don't know. It's not important, but that would be my vibe.


I might just get if I might pull a tooth out recreationally and just pop a gold one in with Pavi, diamonds, maybe pink sapphires, more fiscally responsible. So I just have, like, a bejeweled tooth because why the fuck not? I'd probably also purchased two Rottweilers and get them Cubin Link diamond chains to wear around their neck and then get like pink leather, bedazzled harnesses and leashes. And I would just go everywhere with them, just everywhere. Two of them, one in each hand, I'd probably name them like Mary Kate and Ashley, despite their gender, or Julianne and Derek, depending on my mood.


But they would be trained attack dogs and nobody would fuck with me. And I would just be like sitting in a bistro outwell. Could I do outdoors? Because the pigeons, I don't know. Maybe I'll take the money in like a hypnosis therapist to just go everywhere with me. And I just be like sitting outside in Paris in a marabout coat with my two Rottweilers, their attack dogs, they just be snarling at people, especially children and birds.


They would scare the birds away.


I wouldn't even have to get the hypnosis therapist drinking like a buttery, buttery, like French Bordeaux wine. Doesn't matter what time of day it is. Smoking my cigarettes, giving zero fucks, I'd get acrylic nails for the first time and I would just be the best version of myself. So there is always a light at the end of the Gone Girl Tunnel and it includes a bejeweled tooth. You know how I'm going to keep that bejeweled tooth shining like the Eiffel Tower?


I mean, you just can't find these transitions on any other podcast. If somebody doesn't give me a fuckin People's Choice Award or some type of podcast's award, I'm going to go mental. Here's the deal. I love the quip toothbrush. If you don't have one, you need to get on board. Here's why I love it. It's twenty twenty, OK? We don't need bulky charging stands. I used so many electric toothbrushes pre equipped. First they have little shrinky dink brush heads.


They're so small they're not even like covering your teeth. Quip is sturdy, it's sleek, it's foolproof. You get a brush head and a refill kit every three months on a dentist recommended schedule so you don't even have to think about it. Mine is super cute. It's like a muted gold. It goes with my whole gone girl aesthetic. There's a new feature with the crypt toothbrush that we must talk about. Obviously you've heard me talk about the clip toothbrush a million times.


I love it dearly, but there is something brand new that rewards you and your mouth. So the quip, smart, brash. It's for kids and adults. It connects you to the quip app with Bluetooth so you can track when and how well you brush. You get tips coaching to improve your habits. You earn points for daily brushing. This is so great for kids and bonus points completing for challenges like streaks. You redeem all of the points for rewards like free products, gift cards and discounts from quip and partners.


The watermelon flavored toothpaste is a game changer. Plus, they also now have a solar charger. So you just, you know, pop it in the sunshine and charge up your brush.


Baby, start getting rewards for brushing your teeth today. Go to get quip dotcom slash Bible right now to get your first refill free.


That's your first refill free Atget quip dotcom slash Bible spelled Ghetty QIP Dotcom slash bible. Better oral health made simple and rewarding how to get a guy to fall for you using gone girl techniques. First of all, I have always said this. I don't like that people are trying to strip women of the term crazy. I think crazy is a beautiful thing. I think we need to embrace it. Balls deep. There is all these bullshit articles like on a Daily and BuzzFeed and Women's Health.


I mean, allegedly, I don't even know if that was the appropriate platforms, but saying why we shouldn't call women crazy and how detrimental it is and sexist. I would like to go on the record and say I strongly disagree and I am not a supporter of the anti crazy movement.


I am a long time believer that I want everyone around me to think I'm crazier than I actually am, just for fluff.


You know, it's called gaslighting. Get on board, bitches. So I think that men love crazy girls. I think they're fun. I think they're wild. I think they don't feel safe with you, which is like triggering and and it kind of makes them want to catch you more. There's something about the bitch that's just too accommodating, that never really wins. They say nice girls finish last and that's. Do they say that? Is that a saying?


I don't really know. That's what I say. Nice is a behavior. It's not a characteristic. It's if someone says within the first three adjectives, she's really nice. You need to get a personality and spice it up a little bit. You need to find out who the fuck you are because nice. There are people who say Adolf Hitler was nice. You can I could be nice. I could pretend to be nice, but but that doesn't mean anything.


So I think step one, be yourself from the fucking jump. It's called Big Dick Energy.


If you are direct, if you are ferocious, if you are brazen, if you are all caps, whoever the fuck you are, it's incredibly attractive.


It's called operating on a higher motherfucking vibration. So if you don't like Mexican food and you're fucking new date says, hey, how does Taco sound? I don't fucking like tacos. What else? You know what I mean. I'm not saying you need to be mean or emasculating, but you should always be direct. It really throws people off in every quadrant of your life professionally, romantically, in your friendships. Being direct is so fucking hot. It's it's new age.


That doe eyed Bambi fawn in the woods, bullshit, nobody likes that. That's fun for like a fucking week.


So buck up, be direct, be transparent and have a sense of humor and also be interesting, like don't make your significant other the epicenter of your universe. I mean, look what happened to Betty Broderick. Shit fucking happens. You better be your own entity. It's very attractive. It's the most attractive thing in the world.


And if you've been needy and co-dependent in your relationships in the past, figure out what the fuck that is, because that will drive people away in every sense of the word friends, romantically, professionally, get your shit together, handle your business.


OK, if you found out Andrew had been having an affair and got the other girl pregnant. Oh, my God. Other than going for gone girl on his ass, would you go after her, too, assuming that she knew he was married? Honestly, I don't like it when women blame the other women. I would only blame and punish the person that stood across from me and made vows to me because that's the person that I committed to, that I was in a relationship with some rando who wants to, like, bang my husband.


I mean, I can't blame them. I understand this firsthand.


Everybody has a crush on my husband. I hear it all the fucking time.


He is a babe, babe, babe. And I like that. That attracts me more to him. I feel like I'm winning a prize not to objectify him, but that's the truth. Now, if something went down, would I go to the girl and then forgive my husband? Absolutely not. This is an example of like a Jim Alexis Bellino and then Peggy Peggy Tannous.


Was it Tejanos? I think so.


Remember when Peggy had dated Jim and then befriended Alexis and Jim never told Alexis that he had been with her friend. And Peggy was like, I don't know that it's my place to tell my friend that I dated her husband. That's between them. They're the married couple.


She told her husband it was public knowledge in their home. Now, they're all subsequently divorced. At this point in time. However, I stand with Peggy in the narrative that Alexis and Jim, that's on them, it had nothing to do with Peggy. So for Alexis to cut Peggy out and then forgive her husband, I don't think that the punishment meets the crime. I think that your husband is the one that was betraying you. So he should be the recipient of your gone girl.


Listen, I know this is terrible to say, but this is a safe place and he'll never listen to this. Can you imagine how great it would be for downloads if Andrew cheated on me? Unfortunately, and I mean this from the bottom of my heart, unfortunately, I never say never, but I would be borderline proud of him.


He's so fucking scared of me. Rightfully so. And honestly, I think across the board, anyone who knows this, if anyone was to pull some sketchy shit, it would 100 percent be me. I've got two passes. I'm saving my butt for Harry Styles and or Chris Martin, preferably at the same time. So we could just it was one and done and we can call it a wash and keep it moving.


I don't think I've told this story on the podcast because it's a little cringe and namedropping.


And I, I really do try not to do that because I hear other people doing it and it's fucking tragic.


But Andrew works with One Direction back in the day, him and his crew that the writers and producers that he works with, our closest friends were like really balls deep into the windy days.


So we went to their I went to their first stadium concert and we were all going backstage.


And I had never met Harry before. I had met the others, but not Harry, obviously. I mean, hello at my tits were out, I was contoured. I was like, let's fucking do this shit, bitch.


This is probably, I don't know, maybe like seven years ago, maybe six years ago. I don't remember.


I looked at Andrew as a lady does, and I said, when we get backstage, don't look at me, don't touch me, don't introduce me as your girlfriend. Let me just get in the room, have a Kiki and see how Harry responds to my sexual prowess.


Like, let's just see if maybe I walk into that room untethered to any of you fuckers. He looks into my eyes, gets erect, falls in love with me, and then we run off to the sunset. At this point in our life, it was no ring, no thing.


So we get backstage, I'm death clearing and I'm like, don't don't even look at me. Don't blink in my direction for all.


Harry Styles could. No, I just sauntered backstage.


I could be a P.A. I could be an agent, I could be a publicist. Just let me live in solitude and see if we have some sexual chemistry.


And it's like, OK, bitch, fine. He runs off, is doing his thing recording's. I don't know what the fuck they were doing. So there I am by my lonesome. I was with my girlfriend and he comes up and he says hello. And I was like, oh my God, I was so fucking cool, calm and collected.


Like you don't even understand my chest rash. I kept it at bay. There was no rosacea flare up. I was like, we are going to fuck in his dressing room right now.


He goes, Hey. And I'm like, Hi, I'm Jack. He's like, Oh, we've met before. I'm like, oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, babe, we haven't fucking met before. And I played it so cool.


I'm like, have we? And he's like, yeah, we met at Jewelz House. I'm like, oh, maybe that never happened.


But like love that journey, love that. I don't know what the game plan was. They're like, oh my God, he's totally trying to have sex with me.


He's so lovely and goes, can I get you a drink? And I was like, I would love one. Goes to the craft room, gets me a corona light, opens it for me, hands me the icy beer and I'm like, holy shit, this is happening my shit for brains boyfriend at the time.


No husband walks out and says, Hey Jackie, come in and say hi so-and-so blah blah blah. And then says, Oh, did you meet my girlfriend Jackie? I swear to fucking God, I almost started crying. I looked at Andrew with such rage and detest and I was angry at him the entire night. He ruined what could have been no. Do I think that he was even point, oh, four percent interested in me? Absolutely not.


But to this day, to this day, I bring it up any chance I can because we don't know.


You never fucking know. I was in my goddamn peak that night.


I had an upper lip curl and a death glare. And I just looked at Andrew and I thought, you fucking smug bastard, you are a murderer of love.


Wow. That was hard to relive.


And I am sorry and embarrassed that I even put that on this podcast, but it needed to be said.


And now you know what I'm dealing with here and why I wake up at three a.m. tossing and turning and why when I hear watermelon sugar, it triggers.


Me, anyways, thank you so much for listening to this podcast next week. Hopefully we'll get a little hym luvin, so that will be very exciting.


I'm trying to expand my repertoire.


Also, I cannot continue to do episodes by myself because this this will be played in a therapy session with my future children. Love you all. Give us five stars and iTunes. Follow me at Jagi Schimel and I will talk to you slut's next week.