I admit I’m not a poetry lover. I don’t even like poetry. I like it better when it rhymes, like the Ancient Mariner. Sometimes I read the poetry in The New Yorker, and inevitably sneer or mutter “Jesus Christ.” I used to think it was a failure on my part, but now I’m comfortable with all of my biases.

I once had a job that involved stupid magazines with stupid ads for suckers, like devices to enlarge your breasts overnight. One of the ads was for a poetry contest, that was clearly a scam. It was something like “YOU TOO COULD BE A POET! ENTER THIS CONTEST AND WIN $10,000!”

I showed it to my young teenager and we decided to send in a poem to find out what the scam was. It was back in 1990, but I still remember laughing as we took turns composing it. Max was reading Stephen King at the time, who was a master of the idiotic mixed metaphor, and you can see the Stephen King influence throughout.

Sure enough, our poem won an Honorable Mention! and we could see it published in a nice anthology for only $49.95! We decided to pass. *If you want to try this too, go here.

Keeping in mind my disappreciation for poetry, I was excited to discover a poem by my husband’s ex-wife, my bête noire and the Anti-me. While I try to follow her monthly column in her community newspaper, somehow the poem escaped my attention until now. “Escaped my attention” is the kind of thing she would write, so I apologize, but she would have prefaced it with “hitherto.”

I won’t pretend to “get” this poem; You don’t need to get it to enjoy it, right? But once I figured out its subject, I was inspired to write my own elegy:

Ode To The Tennessee 3

What fresh hell is this! Voting
To kick them out for
Protesting

Even the fat white lady knew how
Wrong
This was. Plus

The 2 young black guys
Are so hot!
Especially the Brother with
The earring and long hair

I even followed
Him
On Instagram.

I shared it with my friend M, a published novelist and hardcore fan of the Ex’s work, and he countered with this:

Tennessee 3 braving
and behaving
No
The guy with the Afro is the hotter of the 2

Whew! I’d hate to have to pick the winner here, but I would love to pick the winner of your entries! So, (YOU TOO COULD BE A POET!) please submit a poem about the Tennessee Three and the winner will get a nice certificate! If anyone out there is an artist, you can help design it.

Don’t be shy! There are no losers, only winners!

I know I’m late but the Exegesis must go on, so here we go. As usual, the show was a boring waste of time but let me say that the ONLY thing I wanted was for Lady Gaga not to win. Sometimes a negative wish is enough to encourage a sense of involvement, right? And I stand before you a happy camper.

Why the animosity toward Lady Gaga? I just can’t stand her. But I think I have crystallized my revulsion for her with this insight: She is too needy. Her neediness makes me anxious, and it reminds me (subconsciously) of my own neediness, which I can’t face. Okay?

Anyway, her loss was my gain. Likewise, I enjoyed (i.e., hated) the sight of Bradley Cooper as Colonel Sanders, with his girlfriend du jour, a Russian prostitute/model.  I liked Nicole Kidman‘s fillers, while I disliked whatever Charlize has done with her face.

Taylor Swift‘s surprise appearance was like the Wicked Witch in Show White. When Idris “Please have sex with me!” Elba told Taylor that she was looking good, she replied “Thank you.” WHAT ABOUT “YOU TOO,” TAYLOR? ARE YOU FUCKING BLIND? Maybe she just has no manners.

Olivia Coleman was by far the most charming winner, just as she is the best actress alive. She can do no wrong. Go and watch all her movies and British dramas if you don’t believe me. Alfonso Cuarón was another deserving winner who exhibited unusual modesty in a sea of gushy idiots still telling Liam and Isabella to go to sleep.

Catherine Zeta-Jones was the winner of my Most Well-Preserved award, with Jamie Leigh Curtis taking the coveted Most Badly Aging prize. Patricia Arquette was amazing in her role of a lowlife prison guard in Escape at Dannemora, but her boobs were truly disturbing as they tried to explode in her face.

Regina King looked gorgeous and gave a delightfully joyous acceptance speech. Mahershala Ali looked inexplicably sad. Don’t be sad, Mahershala, we love you!

Why did the Versace series keep winning when it was such a trashy piece of shit? Anyone?

Most incandescently beautiful was Saoirse Ronan in a Gucci dress that revealed her perfect satiny skin. I will be her in my next life.

That cute guy whatsisname who everyone loves. Chalmet or something? He took the prize for most daringly queer beaded halter over a black on black outfit. But Billy Porter was by far the most glamorous man on the red carpet or anywhere else.

God, just kill me. It’s too boring to relive. The show ended on a high note, with Gaga getting snubbed beyond my wildest dreams. Yay! Let me know what I left out. xoxo

I’ve been getting them for a couple of years, and it occurred to me that it might be nice to share them with those of you who don’t have death breathing down your neck, in the form of cremation offers.

The Neptune Society has the market cornered in name recognition. There are many companies that provide the same services for less than half the price, but in California, most people think Neptune Society. In fact, that’s what my mom arranged for herself.

(Remember when she left me one dollar in her will? She thought of everything!)

Inside the envelope is a syrupy letter explaining why you should ease the burden on your loved ones by planning your cremation in advance. There are a lot of euphemisms, naturally, but here’s the essence of the pitch:

Cremation planning grants your family time to grieve your loss and celebrate your life rather than face confusing choices and high costs.

Fuck my family, know what I mean? Let them face the confusing choices, I’m certainly not going to do it for them.

Here’s what I love about the Neptune Society letters – this hilarious insert.

It’s their clever way of getting your phone number so their salespeople can torment you. Because who could resist a PRE-PAID CREMATION! They make it sound like a trip to Hawaii. And why does that guy with the baby look so happy? Did he just win a cremation or did he find out his parents “planned ahead”?

People in my neighborhood by the harbor are inclined to borrow a boat and throw their loved ones’ ashes into the sea. It’s a DIY kind of thing that really appeals to me. I once wanted to be scattered at Nordstrom, but now I’m conflicted.  And truthfully, I’ve been spending more time at Marshall’s.

As an unwavering Doubter, I wouldn’t trust the Neptune Society or any company to scatter my ashes at sea. How would you know they didn’t just throw you in the trash in a Walmark plastic bag full of coffee grounds?

If you want to see a comprehensive breakdown of fees for cremation and burial services, go here. Note that it’s $25 extra to remove a pace-maker.

Maybe there’s a way to get these fuckers to take me off their mailing list, but it’s a nice reminder of my mortality. Plus, it inspires me to face a new day, just to spite the Neptune Society.

I feel duty-bound to oblige.

Keep in mind there are no other political signs in our neighborhood.

Naturally I’ve been thinking of ways to deface or alter her sign, but she probably has cameras and I don’t feel like being fined or going to court. I guess I could please insanity but I’d like to save that for a capital offense.

So, I need to put up my own sign, right???

I could make a NO TRUMP sign, or a sign that says PLEASE IGNORE TRUMP SIGN with an arrow pointing to her house.

I need your ideas, asap!

*Winner gets all credit for their idea or whatever he/she wants, within reason.

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Someone just remarked to me that calling Mother Theresa ‘bad’ was only relative; on a scale of 1 to 10, was she as bad as Hitler, or Pol Pot?

So now, probably because I’m a little stoned, I’m trying to organize Bad People, which is harder than it sounds.

On the spectrum of Bad People, with Hitler being the Most Bad, who would be the Least Bad? I can’t even begin to figure out how to define the lowest rung of Badness.

So fuck that.

How about just creating a list of the top ten Worst People? That shouldn’t be too hard.

If we include everyone in history, we might not even get to Hitler, so we have to limit this to 20th and 21st Century, because on everyone’s list, Hitler is always number one. It’s a given. Hitler never gets old. Just look at your cable history channel or go to a book store.

So now we have Hitler and we need 9 more Worst People.

Here’s where I am:

hitler
dick cheney
bill cosby
roman polansky
manson
ted bundy
madonna
kissinger
mobutu
leni Riefenstahl

I’m too stoned to capitalize, and they’re not in order, obviously.

Is it wrong to include Roman Polanski? It took me years to admit he was bad, and I may have magnified his badness to make up for lost time.

Don’t argue about Madonna. She launched a million pole-dancers pretending to be singers. She can be number ten, how’s that?

Okay, now I need help.

Would it be easier to make it Top Twenty? Or can we agree on ten?

My cyber-friend and adopted daughter Annemarie has generously pointed me to a treasure trove of pretentious fashion gibberish that reads like a buzzword generator.

In fact, the high-end shopping site Ssense has just launched such a generator and it’s fun to play with. It needs more variables to be top-notch but I like to see a designer fashion site with an actual sense of humor.

The site Annemarie recommended has zero awareness of it’s over-the-top pompousness, and that is its gift to us. Here is Lagarconne‘s tumbler blog expounding on a pair of frumpy black dresses:

With a quirky disposition linked to techie dressing, the mock neck is noted for its scientific past, yet finds new function as a clever tool in the construction of occasionwear. Elegantly revisited, the detail lends analytical air to ultra-sleek fabrics, taking modernity back a step with skilled wit. When cut in silk or satin, the style adds bookish refinement, creating streamlined classics by way of cerebral calculation. From Marni, the neckline gives engineered structure to fluid stretch silk, while The Row further exemplifies the neckline’s transformative powers,lending academic grounding to surfer-influenced attire. From cubicle to catwalk, the mock neck makes new headway as a fool-proof formula for optimum sophistication.

Jesus Christ, right? What are they on over there?

Here’s the prose inspired by a grey sweatshirt and baggy cropped pants:

Baggier shirts and widened trousers often instill an unconscious urge for slimmer pairings. Japanese label, Blue Blue Japan, breaks this habit in considered refusal of the customary approach. By pairing the classic crewneck sweatshirt with cropped culottes in signature indigo denim, an effortless balance arises. In a duplicated slack, each item mirrors the other. Nipped only slightly at the hips, a band of knit ribbing adds no constriction, simply linking the unfettered forms.

‘Considered refusal‘ is killing me. I’m even impressed by ‘slimmer parings.’

I sort of want to master this language, particularly as there are no discernible rules except to string along descriptive words with terms from random academic disciplines like philosophy, architecture and engineering.

So far, I suck at it. I feel like I have no aptitude for it but I’ve been listening to that maniac Joel Osteen on the radio, who insists that a positive attitude is all you need to make your dreams come true, like having a baby when you’re sterile or sending your wife’s cancer into remission.

Never mind about him. Let’s have fun.

Here’s an unremarkable, dowdy-looking pair of shoes from La Garconne. They are priced at $685 but don’t let that determine your reaction. The goal is to create a flowing description that leaves the potential shopper feeling daunted, mystified, slightly shamed but filled with avarice.

I’ll be working on my caption but let’s see yours!

The winner will be will be selected by votes, and the prize will be something either stupid or good, whichever seems most appropriate.

Remember the Benefit Incident, and the pathetic correspondence that ensued between me and Patricia, the company’s US Customer Care Manager?

Well, I wrote back to Patricia, turning on the ol’ Sister Wolf charm:

Good evening Patricia,

Your reply makes no sense. After patiently waiting for 8 days, I am dismayed by your inability to provide any response to my concerns. How can the regional manager help me by discussing anything with “the beauty adviser.”   Which beauty adviser are you referring to? I didn’t even identify the store where this happened!

Patricia, here is the plan. You will want to convey to me Benefit’s ACTUAL POLICY regarding its sales techniques and whether it is considered acceptable to physically accost a potential customer.

That way, my readers may be assured that it is safe to approach a Benefit cosmetics counter.

Finally, you may want to offer me some of your products, with an emphasis on red lipsticks, to compensate me for my considerable distress at the hands of your assaultive sales representative.

I am prepared to follow up with your superiors if necessary.

Sincerely disappointed,

XXXXXX Wolf

Patricia phoned me the very next morning. She explained that the Benefit sales associates are supposed to direct traffic to their counter, but not to slop the product on without asking. She assured me that they want the cosmetics shopping experience to be almost like a party. I made some idiotic and reckless analogy that I won’t repeat, and we said goodby after Patricia promised to pop some red lipstick in the mail for me.

Isn’t that nice?

The lipsticks have arrived: Flirt Alert, and Frenched. One is a clear soft red, and the other a deep cranberry color. I have judged them to be somehow inferior, so I want to pass them on to you, the faithful reader! I will even pay for shipping in the US. We can haggle over shipping if you live somewhere else.

To enter the contest to own these brand new, unused but   somehow inferior lipsticks, just explain in your comment why you want them.   The best explanation wins!

** For a look at the best customer complaint letter ever written in the history of the world, go here.

Ali knows that Fashion Editors like attention! Her umbrella is a good way to stab underlings and to teach Tavi how to really block the view at a runway show. See how she has artfully exposed her belly button, too.

A good Fashion Editor needs to glare. Perhaps her assistant has mispronounced “Margiela?”

Athif is rocking the shit out of this season’s pagan feather and fur accents. His bedroom slippers say: “I make the rules, you just follow them!”

Skye is a goddess and she knows it. Don’t make her mad.

Here, Skye rocks the Wonder Woman look that brings Anna dello Russo to her knees. Sunglasses and crazy head-wear are key to Fashion Editor Style.

Kate is shit with a camera, because it’s not her job, damn you! Her job is to strut around in her clunky heels, waving her fan and barking “Show me something else!” and “Who’s going to carry me up those stairs?”

Enna knows that Fashion Editors can look like hookers and still feel superior. Her mini-dress and heels say “Fuck me!” while her expression says “Fuck off!” She probably learned this from Carine Roitfeld, who is jealous of her radiant youth.

Behold TheShoeGirl. What’s not to love? As you know, she is sex on wheels. Her cigarette and BlackBerry show that she means business. Her fur and heels are forbidding, but the flash of tummy makes her almost human.

Note the oversize sunglasses and the bossy attitude.   Classic Fashion Editor.

Finally, a special treat: Sister Wolf flaunts her Fashion Editor Style in front of her admiring dog. Leather shorts from Queen Michelle, Fluffy gilet from Queen Marie, vintage gold Gucci sunglasses (that you can buy if you’re interested.)

Thank you, Fashion Editors! xoxo

*Those of you who didn’t step up to this challenge, Grrrr.   Next time, no excuses.

A young child might look at this photo and say, “Oh, look, clowns!” But we know better.

Our next reader challenge is Fashion Editor Style. Can you look effortlessly crazy, chic, snooty, and age-inappropriate? Then get someone to take your picture and send it to sisterwolf666@gmail.com.

(TheShoeGirl and Rosie, that means you.)

The shoes at Saks.com are like a festival of roadkill.

I’ve always loved fur but something about this footwear trend is making me gag. I wonder how dogs react when they see these things approaching? I’ve tried to decide which pair above is the ugliest, but it hurts to dwell upon them.

On a related note, I am stuck with my Kate Moss Groupie Coat, since no one on ebay was astute enough to buy it from me.

There is no fucking way I’m going to wear this coat and look like a Chanel Yeti or anything of that ilk. I bought it last year in a moment of delirium.

What can I do to make this coat better? I’m thinking of cutting it off to make a short jacket. Is this good or not good? Would I need to hem it? Because I can’t handle that.

Should I add some color with paint or sharpies or something?

I could run a huge contest called “Fuck Up My Coat” and post all your ideas on Flickr, but no, that’s not how I roll. Just let me know if you have a suggestion.