- Joined
- Aug 29, 2018
The Villa itself was supposed to be the luxury home of an enviable, gorgeous, on-the-go influencer. Peetz was the necessary compromise, but she knew she could train him to stay in his room. She envisioned herself breezing through the nicely-appointed, glamourous suite, posing behind the luxury kitchen island in front of delectable food, having beautiful people over, impressing viewers with her "patio" and automatic dishwasher. She was even excited that it had a doorbell when she moved in.
That represented a whole new start for her. Her channel was on the upswing in terms of viewers, who seemed to share her enthusiasm. They all fell for the lie she was presenting; a rented townhouse in the lower-rent bracket did not mean all her problems had been washed away and the glamor years were here. She left behind most of her roachy belongings in a roachy apartment she had to flee, severing the last tie she had to any kind of reality.
As predicted, she went on the benders of all benders. The apartment was trashed, and she was constantly stoned, eating, or asleep except for the furtive visits to Nader.
Something happened with the landlord; this seems clear enough, although we will never be sure exactly what happened. But it has planted the notion in her head that she needs to get out. Since everything has kinda crashed and burned around her, she sees no reason to remain in that dump any longer; it no longer befits a woman of her fame and stature. Even the cops should know who she is and recognize her.
She's in a drug-induced fantasy dreaming stage now. In her mind, if she makes, let's say $4300 a month to pull a number out of thin air, then obviously she can afford $4000 a month on a mansion. She'll have money left over, and she always can get more just by livestreaming more. In a mansion, she'll have attractive visitors who drive up the curving driveway in BMW convertibles. She'll be the thin hostess (already lost 60 pounds!) and sultry influencer, flitting about her mansion, posing behind a marble island with delectable food, leading an enviable lifestyle of travel, romance, and gummies.
See where we are going with this? A whole new start! A new place and new beginning! Operation Superstar Influencer Thot gets closer to completion!
However, if she dare take this fool notion any farther, reality is gonna kick her in her teeth. Any move she makes will be a step down, I promise it. A seedier place in a seedier location with seedier neighbors. Peetz will manage to find it in him to nope out of that, which may be optimistic but I can see it happening. She'll practically force him to refuse anyway.
Then she'll have a junkie flat all to herself, where she can eat and fart and shit the bed and kick the cats and rampage through the fridge and achieve what her real goal has been along: to escape the last tethers of society and let her infantile id run amok.
That may be where the last chapter of this epic saga ends, unless there is a hospice postscript someday. She is literally out of control and in her own fetid bubble.
That represented a whole new start for her. Her channel was on the upswing in terms of viewers, who seemed to share her enthusiasm. They all fell for the lie she was presenting; a rented townhouse in the lower-rent bracket did not mean all her problems had been washed away and the glamor years were here. She left behind most of her roachy belongings in a roachy apartment she had to flee, severing the last tie she had to any kind of reality.
As predicted, she went on the benders of all benders. The apartment was trashed, and she was constantly stoned, eating, or asleep except for the furtive visits to Nader.
Something happened with the landlord; this seems clear enough, although we will never be sure exactly what happened. But it has planted the notion in her head that she needs to get out. Since everything has kinda crashed and burned around her, she sees no reason to remain in that dump any longer; it no longer befits a woman of her fame and stature. Even the cops should know who she is and recognize her.
She's in a drug-induced fantasy dreaming stage now. In her mind, if she makes, let's say $4300 a month to pull a number out of thin air, then obviously she can afford $4000 a month on a mansion. She'll have money left over, and she always can get more just by livestreaming more. In a mansion, she'll have attractive visitors who drive up the curving driveway in BMW convertibles. She'll be the thin hostess (already lost 60 pounds!) and sultry influencer, flitting about her mansion, posing behind a marble island with delectable food, leading an enviable lifestyle of travel, romance, and gummies.
See where we are going with this? A whole new start! A new place and new beginning! Operation Superstar Influencer Thot gets closer to completion!
However, if she dare take this fool notion any farther, reality is gonna kick her in her teeth. Any move she makes will be a step down, I promise it. A seedier place in a seedier location with seedier neighbors. Peetz will manage to find it in him to nope out of that, which may be optimistic but I can see it happening. She'll practically force him to refuse anyway.
Then she'll have a junkie flat all to herself, where she can eat and fart and shit the bed and kick the cats and rampage through the fridge and achieve what her real goal has been along: to escape the last tethers of society and let her infantile id run amok.
That may be where the last chapter of this epic saga ends, unless there is a hospice postscript someday. She is literally out of control and in her own fetid bubble.
