DE VILLE, VEGAS OLIVIA

[vegas]

vegas olivia de ville

VISITOR, 22, MANIPULATIVE, SASSY, DANCER, KRYSTEN RITTER, NEW HAVEN

So, here’s my story. I was born and raised in New York, the greatest city on earth, if you ask me. Why did my parents name me Vegas? Obviously because that’s where my dad knocked my mom up. I know, gross story; but it resulted in a pretty bad ass name. So, my parents are Crystal and Steven, Crystal paid her way through college by being a stripper, and my dad was a trust fund baby. But he’s not a stuffy rich type. He’s actually pretty awesome. He’s like, covered in tattoos and owns a motorcycle (which he bought during his midlife crisis.) My mom only has one tattoo, a butterfly tramp stamp (who saw that one coming?) So, my parents are pretty cool, pretty laid back, I didn’t grow up with a whole lot of structure. That’s probably why I turned out the way I did, but whatever.

I have a little sister, Sienna. I’m probably a bad influence on her, but I don’t really care, and she doesn’t either. The girl like, basically worships the ground I walk on. Can you really blame her, I am pretty great. In high school, everyone knew me, all the girls wanted to be me, and all the guys wanted to sleep with me. Ok, all of the girls hated me; but that obviously just means that they were jealous. I have great fashion sense, cool as fuck parents, and really hot boyfriends. Anyway, my sister. She just turned eighteen, and is going to college in the fall. She was a cheerleader in high school, the little slut. God, I love her.

I started dancing when I was four (yes, really.) And can I just say how great I am at it? So great, in fact, that I got signed with the NEW YORK FREAKING CITY BALLET when I was eighteen. EIGHTEEN. I know, I know, ballet doesn’t really seem to be my thing. I’m loud, sometimes I say things that are social inappropriate (and by sometimes I mean nearly all the time.) But I loved ballet. Loved. Loved. As in it’s a thing of the past. So you’re probably wondering why this bad ass ballerina from Manhattan is living in New Haven, right? Yeah, I’m wondering the same thing.

I was in a car accident. Well, sort of. I got hit by a car while I was on a run. Like, seriously, this drunk ass guy in a car drove up on the god damn sidewalk and ran me down. Sucks, right? I broke a leg, arm, my nose, and punctured a lung. I was in the hospital for like three weeks getting surgeries and shit like that. They had to put pins in my leg, and I had to go through months of rehab so that I could move it normally. Even after that, though, I couldn’t dance on it. How much does that fucking suck? So because some drunk moron decided he could drive himself home, I can’t dance anymore. I had to quit the ballet, and then decided that I didn’t really want to live in Manhattan anymore. It’s a pretty depressing place to be once you’ve had your dreams brutally ripped away from you.

So, I moved to New Haven, don’t ask me why. I basically just chose a city at random. And now guess what I’m doing. I’m teaching fucking five year olds ballet. How lame is that? I mean, it’s fine for all those “dancers” who couldn’t make it as professional dancers. Those who can’t, teach, and all that. But I was great. More than great. I was one of the best. So, yeah, I have no idea how long I’ll stay here. It’s nothing compared to Manhattan. Maybe I can move out to LA or Miami or something like that. Who knows.

[li] coffee

[/li][li] getting high
[/li][li] getting drunk
[/li][li] animals
[/li][li] hot guys
[/li][li] parties
[/li][li] messing with people
[/li][li] dancing
[/li][li] the color yellow
[/li][li] chinese food[/li][/ul]

[li] teaching little kids ballet
[/li][li] overly happy people
[/li][li] overly optimistic people
[/li][li] most girls
[/li][li] the color orange
[/li][li] greek food
[/li][li] waking up early
[/li][li] going to bed early
[/li][li] ignorant people[/li][/ul]

[li] manipulative
[/li][li] witty
[/li][li] adventurous
[/li][li] skeptical
[/li][li] realist
[/li][li] blunt
[/li][li] harsh
[/li][li] fun to be around[/li][/ul]

BOO!

[/justify]

HI, I’M LIZZY. YOU FOOLS KNOW ME.

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