If you’re an active member of PAP Smear, you already know about the newest evidence concerning Trig-gate. If not, you can check it out here and here.
The original Trig has a deformed ear. The current Trig does not. Nobody is saying where Mrs. P procured those Trigs, or even how many Trigs there might be. Nobody has yet seen a copy of any birth certificate.
Real Americans want Real Trigs, goddammit!
* cartoon from here.
A friend sent me a link to a woman who has a blog and documents what she wears every day. My friend ‘s question was: “Why?!?”
God. I have no idea. Has everyone gone nuts? Who gives a shit what you wear every day, no matter who you are? I don’t even care what I wear every day, let alone some boring mom-woman.
I guess this mom-woman is the antidote to the Sartorialist. The whole spectacle of what people wear has reached a tipping point, in my opinion. Let’s start seeing everyone’s dental work or something.
Thanks to Hammie, I now know what actress should play me in the movie based on my life: Catherine Keener. Perfect choice, Hammie! She is definitely an idealized version of me…an attractive, mature hippie type. Or as I like to call her, the thinking man’s Demi Moore.
Years ago, my sister’s husband had an “adventure” that I won’t go into, except to say that afterward, my sister and I liked to secretly cast the movie of it. The title would be “On the Lam.” We figured that Karen Allen or maybe Debra Winger could play us, and Sam Neil could play her husband. I can’t remember how we cast the other characters in our lives, but it was a great game.
The other night though, I saw a movie with Debra Winger, who is now an old hag; she’s definitely out. And I have remarried. My husband can be played by Carlos Santana, since he’s been mistaken for Carlos Santana more than once.
If for some reason, Catherine Keener is too busy to play me, I would settle for Dita Von Teese.
Who would you cast as you in the movie of your life?
Just kidding!
When I clicked to enlarge the picture, just to be sure I wasn’t hallucinating, I was momentarily nauseated. But I like the third bullet point in the description: “Rat accent.”
$100 at Revolve.
Every time I read a thing about bloggers having to find a niche, my heart sinks. I’m not doing anything right. I’m also supposed to put keywords in my post titles, and to figure out what kind of posts bring the most traffic. That way, I can give the readers more of what They want.
I’m terrible at following rules, even when it would be in my best interest.
I also read some shit about finding your Voice and establishing your Brand. No problems there, I think. My Voice is my actual voice, and the Sister Wolf Brand..well, duh.
But here’s a great idea for a niche. Shopbop, my favorite online shopping site, has announced that returns of their merchandise are now free! So is shipping. Wouldn’t it be great if I spent the rest of my life ordering stuff from Shopbop, modeling it, and then sending it back?!
I could let readers vote on what I have to buy and model! I could try to pose like Goony Bird! I could glower like Starvng Girl! I could wear rompers and sequin shorts! The possibilities are endless. And horrible!
I wish I had the energy to carry this out, don’t you? I could get really famous as That Crazy Woman Who Models Shopbop Crap. But would I get a book deal, do you think?
I’m not doing anything that won’t get me a book deal. In fact, that is my motto from now on. I’m going to try it out on my husband when he gets home tonight.
This is a real question.
This is how Madonna dressed her daughter Mercy for a day out in Manhattan, while she herself wore some crap by Ed Hardy. Why does she want her child to look like a fucking lawn jockey?!? I can see that Mercy looks happy, but this get-up is so disturbing.
Is it me? Or what?
I was honored to serve as the Los Angeles premiere* of Kate Battrick’s short film, “Dress Up,” this week. Kate is known to some of you as the author of Make Do Style.
Her film is a charming and ambitious look at celebrity, aspiration, fashion and status, told through the chance meeting of a young couple who misread each other’s expectations.
When Kate becomes a famous auteur, you can say you remember her start in film-making. Great job, Kate!
*Sweater from my Grandma, shoes from SWEAR London.
The other night, I saw the film Blow-Up for the first time. What a piece of shit!
Don’t you hate it when a movie you’re supposed to revere turns out to be crap? Blow-Up is the boringest most pointless movie I’ve seen in years. I know it’s a landmark movie of the 60’s but seen today, it’s just ponderous and stilted. David Hemmings can’t act to save his life and never changes out of his bright white jeans. After an hour of nothingness, all I wanted was a different pair of pants.
In the end, David Hemmings comes upom a group of mimes and pretends to return an imaginary ball to them. The End. Fuck! Reading the reviews now, I wonder if everyone was too high on acid to figure out what a stupid bad movie it was.
Black Dynamite, on the other hand, is delightful! It’s a loving homage to blaxploitation films, just funny enough to provoke laughs without devolving into a winking satire. When a sexy lounge singer tells Black Dynamite “I get off in about 15 minutes,” he answers “I know you do, baby.” My husband and I are still having fun saying, “I can dig it.”
Much more entertaining than a Beatle-haired photographer sulking around his apartment or staring into space. One review of Blow-Up explained that it was about meaninglessness. I think that’s just a euphemism for “Huh?”
What classic or cult films have failed to live up to your expectations?
Once upon a time, Mrs. Palin was just a poor innocent little girl whose only friends were a pair of huge prawns. As she grew up with only a voracious appetite for power to substitute for intellect, she turned her back on those faithful prawns. She found herself a baby with Down Syndrome and decided to use it as both sword and shield.
She found out that a TV show called Family Guy made a joke about her. She went and made her daughter Bristol write a crybaby communique on Facebook, complaining that the Family Guy writers were heartless jerks. Waaah!
But Mrs. Palin and Bristol were too retarded dumb to figure out that the Down Syndrome character in the family Guy episode was portrayed as a normal young woman out on a date! A woman who assertively instructs her date to pay more attention to her needs.
The actress who gave voice to that character has spoken out. Yay! She doesn’t know why Mrs. Palin has no sense of humor. And she doesn’t know why Mrs. P is so mad. She explains: “I’m like, I’m not Trig.”
YES! She is not Trig. Can we have a fucking moratorium on Trig? No? Then, how about an organized opposition among the disabled community against being used to further the agenda of a delusional megalomaniac? Our “special needs” kids are regular people, not Perfect Little Gifts From God to stop everyone from having the option of abortion.
~
I am working on a word salad to represent all that is repellent about Mrs. P. I’m not finished yet, but so far it goes like this:
Our great country full of real people, real people who have to put fresh moose protein on the table, not to be lectured by a Harvard lawyer, but also too the terrorists who seek to hide behind our great constitution, where Putin and others like him may wish to use Death Panels to kill my precious baby, unlike the real America, real hard workin’ Americans, if you just let the private sector do its work, use some of those good decent common sense values, like those out on the north Slope, those written by our Founding Fathers, I can tell you as a mother of five who chose Life along with some good natural Alaskan moose with which this great country is so rich in natural old and gas, we can make America great again. God bless you!
Are your feet big like mine? Are they a US 10 or IT 40? If so, you can buy these awesome Illex Kinni shoes RIGHT NOW for $230, saving yourself $20 from the retail price.
Or! You can buy these fabulous Vivienne Westwood boots, same size, for only $250 plus shipping!
Both of these are UNWORN, waiting in their boxes under my bed for someone who can walk in heels.
Yes, yes, I am a cunt who once bought acquired shoes and lots of other pricey stuff in the mistaken belief that they would make me happy, lovable, and shielded from life’s essential and meaningless horror. Okay?
Now I’m a cunt who needs to try to pay bills.
Contact me at sisterwolf666@gmail.com if you’re interested. If you’re not, PLEASE don’t tell me why in a comment, unless you want me to kill you or you happen to be Wendy Brandes. Thanks! xoxo
