What, you don’t want to hire a former drug addict?

In writing this article/entry, I wanted to find a photo of Elizabeth Wurtzel not already used by the NYTimes, which showed what I imagined to be a more dignified, grown up, partner-in-a-law-firm-ready Lizzy. This was the best I could find, but then again, it’s hard to have a non-coked-out photo when your life’s work has been built around the idea of being a coked out train wreck.

I forget where I heard it first, the news that Lizzy was going to Law School, that is. I believe it was sometime after More, Now, Again came out, sometime around the time that the atrocious film version of Prozac Nation was canned (almost forever) due to her comments about Buildings Fall Down Day, that she was numb to it, that it was an art project. I knew then when that interview, which painted her as difficult and as mentally ill as always, missing her interview appointment so that she ended up being interviewed in her hotel room in her pajamas, hit the papers, the girl would never write again…at least not a best seller.

So I was right, but not for a lack of trying. She then churned out More. Now. Again, which was critically panned, and The Bitch Rules, later renamed Radical Sanity, even later renamed The Secret of Life, which most reviewers didn’t even bother with, and the advice in which gave me some ideas which later turned out to be, at worst, seriously bad advice.

So, with an LSAT score no more than two points higher than mine, she went to Yale, the lucky bitch. She went, she took time off, she went again, she graduated. And now, according to the NYTimes, being a notorious drug addict with a mugshot that is quite easy to find if you know how to google, for a shoplifting incident she herself chronicled, with a FTW (Stands for “Fuck the World) tattoo visible in most unairbrushed, post-Prozac Nation photos, the girl who posed naked for the cover of one of her books is having difficulty finding a job in the uptight New England land once settled by Puritans who haven’t moved out since? I never would have guessed.

Looks like I will have to step in and fill the void. Quick, someone get me a drug dealer, a cigarette, and a cocktail, stat. And a typewriter or something. Yale Law School, here I come.