Tuesday, January 20, 2009

My Heart Is In Chicago... But I Left It On A Respirator And Moved Out West To Live With The Stars

My name is Dave Brandice and I am fucking rich. Not rich like your friend whose Father took over his Father's business who took over his Father's business and so on and so forth. I am fucking rich. Unstoppable rich. I am good looking. I have nice cars. I have many fantastic houses and a summer home in Montana (yeah, that's right, Montana, we'll get to that this summer). I'm single. I'm young. I'm in good shape. I can fuck for hours. I. Can. Fuck. For. Hours. Literally. Actually, wait. I can fuck for MANY hours. I'd say many of my peers (by many, I mean a carefully select group of peers; Darwin's theory fully applied and practiced in said select group) can fuck for an hour.... but I got hours baby! I travel. I've been literally everywhere. You reading this, I've been to your home town, I've had lunch at your favorite restaurant, and I've gone bowling with your best friends at the local I don't give a fuck. I am a nice fucking guy. I can charm the pants off your boss, priest, therapist, and parole officer if need be. I love to gamble. Love. To. Gamble. Love steak. Rare, not that medium rare bullshit. Love a nice whiskey. Fuck an Old Fashion, I just want a whiskey water. No orange slices, no anything. Whiskey. Water. I feel like I may be coming off as a prick, but ask my friends or anyone that has met me, I couldn't be a nicer guy. Literally, I couldn't. But seriously, I'm a laugh riot. Ask my best friend and golf partner, movie star actor Don Cheadle. We'll get to that later too.

I came into this world in 1986. My Mother, Jean Lee Brandice, went into labor at a Bon Jovi concert on the cold of evening of January 14th. Her water broke during the hit song "Livin' On A Prayer" off their hit record Slippery When Wet. My Father, Dick Dean Brandice, was not paying attention as he was rocking out to the sweet guitar licks of Richie Sambora and the heavenly vocals of Jon Bon and ironically enough, my Father, slipped on the water that had just been released from my Mother.... slippery when wet Father. He died that night. My Mother rode in the hospital truck, on her back on stretcher delivering her first born, as her husband lied next to her, and slowly left this world... as I was slowly coming out of her and into this world.

I grew up in the North West Surburbs of Chicago and my Mom was poor. She was a piano teacher.

I've always been extremely exceptional in everything I do. In 1996, I'll never forget going over to my buddies house and seeing in his Dad's bathroom the Christmas edition of Playboy with Jenny McCarthy/Victoria Silvstedt. From that point on, I knew I wanted to be in the business of making woman that don't look like Jenny McCarthy and Victoria Silvstedt look like Jenny McCarthy and Victoria Silvstedt. Shortly after that Playboy graced my eyes, I started experimenting with altering the less desirable to make them appealing to me. I would gather pictures of undesirable people (mostly from school year books and pictures I would take of people in public) and lay them out on my floor. I would then collect as many Playboys, GQs, and COSMOs as possible, cutting out all the limbs and parts of the beautiful people inside. I would separate the body parts into categories, eyes, legs, lips, tits, ears, etc etc. Then, I would go back to undesirable people, and I would make them desirable. I would make them perfect.

Fast forward to 2009, I am the youngest, most successful, and most handsome plastic surgeon in America. Today, is my first day living in my new home. As stated before, I grew up in the North West Suburbs of Chicago. After high school, I high tailed the fuck out of there and moved downtown and attended school at UIC. I got my degree. While getting my degree, I was involved in several endeavors (pyramid scams) that helped me raise the money to open up my own plastic surgery boutique. Then, it happened. Don Cheadle was in Chicago studying for a role. His wife, now my dear friend Lisa, was looking for an
augmentation mammoplasty, aka a Tit Job. She was sick of the way all the stars tit's looked. She thought they weren't classy, weren't sexy, and weren't desirable. Then, as she was waving a cab, she saw an ad for my practice on the side of a bus, the ad read TRUE BEAUTY COMES FROM A SCALPEL. A few hundred thousand dollars and some blood later, I am on the cover of every magazine with a smile on face right next to Lisa's tits! And the rest is history. Today is the day I have left Chicago and moved to LA. I am currently sitting next to my infinity pool looking out on my new city. My. New. Fucking. City. I have decided to start this blog to document my amazing life. To share my experiences with all of you. This move, out to the West, is a new chapter in my life. I'm off to golf 18 with Don and his buddy Cliff. Those guys keep me young.

1 comment:

  1. Dave Brandice, you are a fuck machine. I can only strive to be half the man that Brandice is. Rock on, Jovi-style.

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