I’M GONNA DRINK THIS GREEN STUFF AS ONE MIGHT GAG DOWN A _____ (OR: Why I Love $10 Designer Juices And One-Upping My Show-Off Boss, Jane)

One of the dumbest things about Jane is the big bottle of kombucha tea she lugs around with her always to fit in with her celebrity friends. Well -- THERE'S A NEW POSEUR IN TOWN.
Publish date:
September 20, 2011
shoppables, cleanses, juice, competition, fasting, let's pick on Jane

WELL. In an effort to be healthier, my dears, I’ve decided to copy this friend I have who works at a fashion magazine and basically just starves herself all of the time by drinking $10 juice and also pretending that “iced coffee makes me full.” She wears a lot of high heeled booties and has tremendously skinny legs, so I like her.

She also takes private Pilates lessons as most rich bitches do (ahem) and even though I get to go for free I usually find that on Wednesday nights at seven o’clock I have MUCH more intriguing things to do, like stare at the baggies of angel dust someone left in my freezer a few weeks ago and will myself not to smoke them:

Because angel dust is bad for me! I thought all summer that it was enlightening, but really all it did is make me get obsessed with creepy things like Bambi and sit on my roof with Irish people thinking they were leprechauns or whatever. But I’ll save that PCP article for another time. I still need a little space from the chaos.

Anyway, what was I talking about? Oh, drinking WILDLY expensive juice! Oh, don’t worry; I’m not going to get all Gwyneth and not eat enough and have fainting fits and things. I’m just not! My mother was severely anorexic for most of her adult life and if I was going to go there, trust me – I have those naughty little blueprints on file for whenever it is I want them, and I prefer sandwiches, jiggas!

NO. I don’t care to starve myself. If eating is gonna get unhealthy and pathological for me – and believe me, it has – I am much more on a bulimic track myself. Or, I mean, I was for all that time. But good God, I know you’re sick of hearing all about my problems! This story was meant to be about how great I am, mainly because I have started to drink this pungent juice.

Now let me backtrack a little and get gossip-y about Jane. Yes, JANE. Bitch swills down kombucha tea not unlike all of her rockstar friends guzzled methadone back in the nineties:

...and it is my personal contention that she just does it to show off how rich she is and also to be trendy. I am almost COMPLETELY certain that one of Jane’s celebrity friends, in fact, STARTED her on said kombucha tea after receiving it in their Emmy, Academy Award, and/or Grammys presenter gift basket, and that she just went along with it because she’s codependent.

(Yes, codependent! Pathetic, I know. Trust, I only tolerate such a weakness in my boss because so often it benefits ME, Cat Marnell.)

Anyway, Jane’s compulsive kombucha drinking infuriates me, mainly because I’m not part of her dumb fancy clique. I mean, I AM – Jane and I have our OWN clique, you see, and our third member is named Liz and she works in SAY Media Human Resources – but in that clique I always have to get in trouble first to get any attention, and this is not good for anyone -- namely one Emily McCombs, who I do not believe drinks kombucha but would probably be more than happy these days to fling any given bottle of the vile stuff as a particularly vicious intermural lesbian might hurl a softball, and aim it directly at my head.

But enough with the talking shop!

Anyway, I am starting to drink this juice with my friend so I can have my own drinking club, and then I get to slink into Jane’s office and have her ask me what I’m drinking and then I’ll get to be all snooty to her and she’ll pay attention to me. YUP, all in all just another day at the office: I’m Cat Marnell, the worst and most needy and attention-seeking employee in the world, and now I’m jacked up on pressed nutrients so as to amplify all of my vaguely manipulative behavior with a certain organically fruity and vegetable-y je ne sais quoi. AMEN.

…I really just wanted to end the post there but really it’s not responsible journalism, and we all know I’m determined to win my Pulitzer this year. This juice is by a company called THE JUICE PRESS. Just because my Jewish friend bought it for me doesn’t mean you can be pun-ny about it, so don’t try. It tastes like you are drinking a foot dipped in apple sauce and then laid carefully across a salad, then put into a blender and poured into a vinegar-dirty funnel and then into this bottle, which is made from recycled glass clippings and mango gazpacho:

NO, it tastes delicious. This juice is actually awesome. I was lying. And look at all the MANIC energy it’s given me! To those people who talked about how much they hate my writing style in yesterday’s comments, well – I can only suggest that you get a job at THE JUICE PRESS and slowly poison me until my stomach implodes and I combust internally and die. This juice is making me feel crazy! Good crazy. More updates to come.

Oh, and if you're not entirely convinced, check out this hotness from THE JUICE PRESS's website. HOLLA!:

Awesome, right? I think I'm going to do a full cleanse. Have never done anything like that before -- have you? COMMENTS.

P.S. Wanna hear about all of the other delicious snacks and dicks I’m gagging down throughout the day? Follow me on Twitter at @cat_marnell. I used to be @rocketqueen89 after that song where Axl boned a girl live in the recording studio and she moans on the track and everything, but then I decided to get it together and be professional for the sake of my career. HAHAHA. XO