Ivanka Goes to Africa, On Your Dime!

Ivanka Trump went to two shithole countries (Ethiopia and Ivory Coast) to tout her global economic program for women, a trip with all the pomp and ceremony of a King’s visit, paid for by We the People! Yay, Ivanka! Evita would envy this bitch’s sense of entitlement, which is off the fucking charts.

I love how Ivanka chose a fitted white Colonialist dress, complete with a little safari-style neck-scarf! It was the perfect choice for dancing around with African women, who smiled and laughed like happy children, despite working long backbreaking hours at textile looms, or bending over troughs of cocoa beans.

Speaking of cocoa, Ivanka praised her co-sponsors, including Nestle’s, known for its failure to observe international protocols for child labor.

I have to say that this is the most idiotic public relations scam I have seen in recent memory. Melania herself is a model of humility compared to Ivanka. No wonder they hate each other.

If you can stomach a little more, here’s Ivanka talking about the tremendous toll her “work” has taken on her family life.

“That’s a price that we’re paying together. I am looking forward to a time in the future when I can live a slightly more low-key private life and be able to spend a little bit more time with my children.”

Her kids, she stressed, are proud of the current family business.

Ivanka Trump said her 7-year-old daughter Arabella recently used her nanny’s phone to ask the Siri digital assistant how many people her father had helped get out of prison, after the passage of a criminal justice reform bill Kushner had helped champion.

“I think our kids are really proud and I share with them as many of these stories as I can,” Ivanka Trump said. “I’m certainly going to share the stories of this trip.”

Will she share the stories with the nanny, to pass on to the kids, or will she tell the kids directly? I have so many questions! Can I see Jared’s birth certificate? Who flat-irons Ivanka’s hair every morning? Will anyone ever mention Barron? And when can they all go to prison?

I’ll just try to be patient. At least there was no collusion.

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Butt Masks: Please Kill Me Already

butt masks just likk me alreadyy

When I saw an ad on Sephora online for a “Booty Mask“, I was excited by discovering a  new avenue of ridicule. Haha, I thought, how absurd, a beauty mask JUST FOR YOUR BUTT! I’m still amazed by the aisles full of weird Korean sheet masks at my local CVS. It seeks like overnight, people have become obsessed with masks. In my world, skin masks are something you do maybe every six months when you’re bored and nothing’s on TV.

Silly me! I went to laugh at the website for B-tight Booty Mask, because little did I know that butt products already comprise a whole category of creams and scrubs and masks that promise you a smaller, bigger, smoother, better smelling, tighter, and more voluminous ass.

Think about your butt and everything it has to go through every day. invest in your booty skin, Don’t leave your booty behind! 100% Safe & Effective. Increases Skin Firmness. Helps Reduce Cellulite. Tightens The Skin.

Do I really have to think about my butt more than I already do? As the daughter of a full-throated misogynist who liked to shout about random women, “Look at the fat ass on that one!” I am more than aware of my butt, and not in a good way. After 27 years of marriage, I still try to walk out of the room backward if I’m undressed.  I couldn’t put into words what the flaw is; I just know that my butt’s very existence is an offense of some kind.

And yet I am not prepared to buy any butt products. The language employed to describe these products is itself a crime against humanity. Here’s part of a review on Refinery29:

To my surprise, mirrors weren’t necessary — although I did literally “look back at it” twice while lying on my stomach just to make sure my entire bum was covered, adding more product as needed. Once satisfied with the pink-tinted mounds behind me, I did as instructed and scrolled Instagram for 20 minutes while it hardened.

“Pink-tinted mounds”?! SOMEONE NEEDS TO DIE.

Then there’s the actual names of the products, like “Tush” (“plumping and lifting infusers for the tush,” $175) and even worse, “That booty tho.” How could anyone name a product that, unless they’re trying to kill me personally?? I guess I should be grateful they didn’t go with “Dat”.

butt-masks-just-kill-me

Who’d like to try a Bamboo Charcoal Butt Cheek Mask? This one you use after the Butt Cheek Cleanser, and it offers:

the added benefit of brightening age spots, sun spots and hyper-pigmentation. Ingredients include MSM and Vitamin C, which make the complexion look clearer and more radiant with each use.

Your butt has a complexion that needs to be radiant?? Is there enough time in the day to beautify every body part? I know there’s an overnight mask for your feet that promises to give you smooth, baby-soft feet. Maybe wee all need to be babies again. Soft and new, devoid of pores and age-spots, spitting up milk but still preferable to something that’s been around for awhile, accumulating age spots.

But wait, I just found Rump Bottom Rub by Lush, and the comments almost make it all worthwhile!

butt-masks-just-kill-me-alreadybutt-masks just kill me already

Ladies and other people with butts, are you ready to invest in the dream of a bigger, smaller, tighter, more radiant ass? Until they make one with my father’s voice screaming out of his car window, I am abstaining.

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Pronoun Problems, Solved

pronoun-problems-solved

If you’ve spend any time thinking about gender and pronouns, go and read what I wrote here, and get back to me with your thoughts, arguments, and insults! xo

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Let’s Say You’re Missing a Leg

let's say you're missing a legYou can imagine my delight at finding these wonderful trousers at the super edgy, superbly curated fashion site Ssense.com.

Mid-rise. Four-pocket styling. Single cropped leg. Zip-fly. Partially lined. Tonal hardware.

“Single cropped leg.” Roger that. No explanation necessary! Here’s another view:

lets say youre missing a legSo good.  All eyes will be on you, hopefully. It’s a casual look, and quite breezy on the one leg, but you can upgrade for a more formal look by getting the nicely proportioned matching jacket.

lets say youre missing a legFor some reason, I think the trousers would be better for a one-legged person, don’t you? Instead of leaving that poor exposed leg to just hang there so vulnerably, a one-legged person would look great, without having to to take it to a tailor. I feel the same way about the popular one-armed look in dresses and tops. I just don’t feel good about the bared limb.

Let’s say you’re Dan Cooper, a guy who is currently featured on a reality show in the UK, living in a house with 4 other “extraordinary” people. Evidently, viewers don’t have much sympathy for Dan, who had his leg chopped off in order to feel “whole.”

let's say you're missing a leg

Dan has BIID, and suffered for many years with the affliction of having one too many legs. Interestingly, this appears to be an extremely British disorder. There’s a great documentary somewhere that spends time with a few of these guys and they are all British. A Scottish surgeon got in trouble for amputating healthy legs, even though he was just trying to prevent his patients from seeking a potentially life-threatening back alley solution to their being bipeds.

Be that as it may! Dan is now a TV personality and people will just have to learn to accept him. Thank god that fucking leg isn’t tormenting him any more. But how good would he look in those mid-rise, partially lined pants at Ssense?

I’m just saying.

 

Posted in Disorders, Fashion, Horrible Stuff | Tagged , , , | 10 Comments

Old Bag Fashionistas: Stop it!

old bag fashionistas stop it

Last night, I was watching Billions with my husband, and was moved to exclaim, “I had no idea I was capable of so much hate!” He laughed, because he has never doubted my capacity. It’s like I’m listening to the character called “Wags” and expending all my hatred on him when suddenly there is that guy who plays whatshisname’s father, and my well of hatred instantly fills up again, ready for action.

It is easily the worst show on cable TV, and we watch it in order to squirm with perverse pleasure at the horrible pseudo-hip dialogue and rabid overacting. But Billions is not my subject right now. Instead, I’d like to address the growing problem (ie., my hatred) of Old Lady Fashion Influencers.

old bag fashionistas

The most formidable of these appears to be Accidental Icon, who insists that she is “freaking cool”despite all evidence to the contrary. I’ll bet she is hopping mad about the newbie imitators wearing big black sunglasses and aggressive white bobs. A friend alerted me to Grece Ghanem, who has “worked her way up from influencer to style icon,” according to Who What Wear. She is 54 but looks ten years older. Revealing her style plan for 2019, she says this:

Goodbye to miniskirts and flat ballerinas. You will also see me sport [fewer] ruffles and all-sheer looks. I am highlighting a more modern silhouette in 2019. I am ready to hang my oversize, padded jackets with the strong shoulders and adopt a softer figure for the New Year.

Jesus Christ, I should hope it’s goodbye to miniskirts!

Checking her out on Instagram, I was rewarded by a montage of annoying fashion looks dominated by Gucci, Celine, and the usual suspects. Grece is a personal trainer so she likes to show off her arms. She also likes to wear those huge white sneakers, which makes me feel sad for her. But then, I saw her wearing a leather biker jacket and my whole world fell apart. I will never be able to feel good wearing a leather biker jacket, thanks to this old bag.

old bag fashionistas

I complained about this to my sister, who said, “If you stop wearing leather jackets, you are giving her too much power. DON’T LET HER WIN!” My sister has become a wise village elder in my life, and not a moment too soon! I will wear my jackets, because I am a proud anti-terrorist, but it won’t be without a frisson of shame.

At least Grece doesn’t seem too self-important like the Accidental Icon, who complains about being marginalized as a senior blogger. Boo-hoo! That’s what you get for letting your hair go white! She is one obnoxious old lady. The last time I looked at her, she seemed obsessed with Rick Owens. But now she’s in a scary ad for Go Daddy!

Oh my god, why is this happening??

Can’t we just be old ladies for fucksake!

Do you think I should start marketing myself as Deliberate Icon? Or maybe Fuck You, I’m Almost Dead?

My style is so nothing, and yet it is so distinctively Me! Jeans and t shirts and sweaters, with enormous size 10 shoes. I ignore fashion rules, except for the ones about not looking stupid, and Mutton Dressed as Lamb. I like to feel comfortable. I like stuff to fit normally. I am not freaking cool, but I’m Hot AF. How do I capitalize on this??

me me me me me hot af

Want to see more old bags? Here.

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Why Are They Torturing Me? Part 2

why are they torturing me part 2

When I think about the internet and how it has distorted the reality of day to day life, first I think about social media. Nothing matters unless it can be documented, or liked. Every  few hours, a gigantic wave of rage erupts on Twitter, all aimed at someone who crossed an invisible line with a thoughtless comment, or maybe an R. Kelly type figure who serves as a scapegoat for all the seething self-hatred that can never be examined or depleted, since it regenerates with every moment of inaction toward Facebook for selling your personal data and reminding you what you posted last year.

Next I think of all the time it has robbed from me, time I could spend doing anything offline, like clean the house or engage with a person face to face, not to mention generate my own thoughts. In the last two days, I have learned about Swedish preschools, rehab statistics, Japanese phonemes, Tucker Carlson’s misogyny, maternal infection and autism, restaurants that accommodate fat people, and the challenges faced by Uniqlo. This is just a small fraction of what I’ve consumed while sitting anxiously at my computer, wondering how I can find out everything about everything before it’s too late.

Do you do this? Maybe you don’t have the time, or if you do, you use it more constructively. Me, I don’t know how to discern what’s useful or important from garbage. I’m trying to resist the temptation to click on the worst crime stories, with some encouraging results. I did read about the little girl stuffed in a suitcase, and I read the comments on the mother’s fb page, calling her a piece of shit, etc. I already know not to click on the secrets of productive people or the truth about diets. That’s just instinctive knowledge. I’m not an idiot, after all. I’m just a person who has forgotten how to be present in my own life.

With all my desperate hunting and pecking online, I would have missed something noteworthy if it hadn’t been forwarded to me: the harrowing writing of Patricia Lockwood, who describes her own descent into internet lunacy, and it is terrifying. I don’t want to end up too immersed in online culture to find my way out. I’m not sure if there’s an antidote to the damage it’s done to my attention span and short-term memory.

Maybe blogging isn’t really writing or communicating. I’m not sure. I need to think it over.

Thoughts, anyone?

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Why Are They Torturing Me? Part 1

why are they torturing me

Sometimes I go looking for trouble but other times it assaults me when I’m doing what I call Minding My Own Business. These fucking boots are in the second category.

I was scrolling through the new arrivals at farfetch.com when they came at me. What the fuck is wrong with this designer, Natasha Zinko? Everything she makes is a monstrosity, just pure visual hell. If you do a search of the brand at farfetch, you will want to kill her.

Anyway, the stupid sleeve-flaps hanging from this boot…let the website explain.

Much like the designer herself, Natasha Zinko is fun, vibrant and brimming with energy. Her personality undoubtedly shows through each clothing piece. These blue 100 denim-wrapped leather ankle boots from Natasha Zinko feature a pull-on style, a pointed toe, side flap pockets, a cut-out heel, a 100mm high stiletto heel and a leather sole.

The price, $1,313 is also an affront. Why the double 13? Round up or down, motherfuckers.

But then, not content to wallow in the nightmare of the boots, I went looking for one of my favorite tools of self-harm, the ex-wife’s monthly column in her neighborhood paper. This month, she is expounding on the weather.

why are they torturing meTry reading it aloud, if you’re alone. Or to your partner, if he wasn’t ever married to her.

How can this be real, the real thoughts and words of a human brain? Each time, I am amazed. Or as she might put it, amazed anew.

God. On the other hand, I’d be sad without the torments of the internet. Wouldn’t you? Or not?

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International Women’s Day: Canceled

international womans day canceled

I’ve been thinking how stupid it is to have an International Women’s Day, but I didn’t know how to approach my feelings without seeming reflexively contrarian. Women are great, but no greater than non-women.

International women are great but so are local women. Women have supported me but woman have also been mean to me, and I mean mean. Woman make up half of the world’s population, so a single day of recognition seems absurd. All the jargon of fourth-wave feminism is repellent to me. I want equal pay for equal work and equal treatment under the law, but that’s where my interest ends. I know, I know.

I once believed that women wanted three things: Oral sex, ice cream, and a nice handbag. Now I feel I was way too hasty. We don’t want the handbag anymore. It’s no longer a big deal, right ladies? So I don’t know what that third thing is. Maybe my readers can suggest something.

I do know what women don’t want. We don’t want to be raped or assaulted. We don’t want mansplaining, pantyhose, clitorectomy, burkas, menstruation-shaming, honor killings, forced marriage, cellulite, and we don’t want men to push on our heads when we’re servicing them, alright? We want to breathe!

Luckily, I’ve just discovered the word “canceled” even though I’m late to the concept. Canceled refers to total disinvestment in something (or someone). It can come swiftly with one stupid tweet, or any instance of pissing people off. Jussie Smolett has been canceled, obviously, and so has Kanye. But not all cancellations are the result of a transgression; you can be canceled for no reason. We must all live in fear of being canceled, especially if we’re heavy users of social media.

“It’s a cultural boycott,” said Lisa Nakamura, a professor at the University of Michigan who studies the intersection of digital media and race, gender and sexuality. “It’s an agreement not to amplify, signal boost, give money to. People talk about the attention economy — when you deprive someone of your attention, you’re depriving them of a livelihood.”

If you announce that someone is canceled, they’re canceled. But the cancellation may not be universal. Or people can forget you’ve been cancelled, as in the case of Kanye or Taylor Swift. Under certain circumstances, the canceled may be uncanceled.

I’m canceling myself before someone else does it. But first I’m canceling International Women’s Day. Because once you’ve been canceled, you probably lose the power to cancel.

Wait! Now that I’m canceled, and stripped of relevance, can I conscript people into canceling shit for me? Will someone cancel Ivanka Trump? And Tucker Carlson? Also, Halsey? Let me know!

The best example of cancel culture is a Kosoko Jackson, a writer whose young-adult novel was pulled before publication due to a frenzied twitter backlash. Jackson, who is not only black and gay but also a “sensitivity reader for a major publishing house,” had the temerity to include an Albanian Muslim character in his novel and MAKE HIM A VILLAIN!!! Ha. Bastard. I hope he’s learned his lesson.

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I, Monster

I, monster

A few days ago, I was at the mall, drinking coffee and talking to a young woman I will call Mary. Mary had started the conversation, which I was enjoying, because who else wants to talk to me? She was 22, but looked much younger. She told me that she tries to look after her 12 year old sister, who is getting interested in boys and fashion.

I’m always interested in young people who have grown up with social media. I wonder how it affects their lives, or if they even think of the internet as something separate from their lives. So I asked her if she spent a lot of time scrolling through shit on her phone, like I do. She seemed at once casually grown up and sweetly naive.

I started going on about how sad I was for young people, who would never know innocence, who would see hundreds or thousands of naked bodies and sex acts before they ever had a relationship. I deplored the lack of mystery that is now a fact of life for young people. I asked her if this worried her, and she said, Not really.

Then, because it’s one of my favorite stories, I told her about the time my kid brought a new friend home for a play-date, and they disappeared into his room. They were probably around 13 at the time, and my kid was already a prodigious coder.  After around three hours, the friend’s mom called to see how things were going. She then advised me to supervise the kids’ computer use, because her son had recently been caught looking at bestiality.

The punchline of the story is me going, “WHAT??? YOU’RE TELLING ME NOW, AFTER THREE HOURS?”

So I finished my story, expecting Mary to laugh. Instead, she looked confused, and said. “What’s  bestiality?”

Shit, I thought, oh no! I didn’t think I could just say, Never mind, now that I’d said the word. So, very sadly, I explained, “It’s when people have sex with animals.” Her eyes bugged out and her hands flew up to her face. “But how would they do that?”

Suddenly, my husband appeared, as we had planned to meet outside the coffee bar. Overcome with guilt and relief, I blurted out, “Hi honey, this is Mary. I’ve just destroyed her innocence!” Mary laughed but I still felt mortified.

As my husband and I walked to the car, he joked about me picking up kids at the mall. I told him that in fact, she had picked me up. Then I remembered reading that the men who get caught having sex with horses always blame it on the horse. “The horse came on to me, it wasn’t my idea!”

Just kill me.

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Academy Awards 2019 Exegesis

academy awards 2019 exegesis

This year, I’m asking you to go here to read the all-important Academy Awards Exegesis™, and then come back to leave comments, if you have any. I know it’s a couple of extra clicks and I apologize. I’ll try to make it up to you.

But before you go, let’s just reflect on the Lady Gaga/Bradley Cooper imbroglio if we may. If you’re anything like me, and you are, you were moaning in agony throughout their performance. And I do mean performance. Personally, I kept muttering “Barf,” a word I haven’t used since middle school. But what else is there to say when confronted with such egregious grandiosity, not to mention over-the-top bad acting? Jesus Christ, why???

Now the internet is all ARE THEY REALLY IN LOVE??? and IS HE BREAKING UP WITH WHATSHERNAME?

If only he wasn’t gay.

Okay for now. Thoughts? Things I left out?

Posted in Celebrities, irritants, News, Rants | Tagged , | 8 Comments