More Fun With Trig and Whoever is His Mom

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As we all know, Mrs. Palin is not really Trig’s mother, but now the word is that even Bristol isn’t his real mom!

Trig Truthers are going berserk, in the wake of Levi’s public statement that Trig isn’t Bristol’s baby. One of the foremost anti-Palin blogs, The Immoral Majority, states that the secret of Trig’s birth is EVEN WEIRDER! If you read the comment thread there, you will discover several wonderful conspiracy theories regarding Trig’s parentage, including the following:

1. Trig is the result of an affair between Levi’s mother Sherry and Todd Palin. Ooooooh! If only!
2. Trig is the result of an affair between Sherry and Track Palin, who was subsequently hustled off into the army.
3. Trig is the child of some unwed mother who was acquired by Mrs. Palin in anticipation of the VP campaign.

There are plenty of other convoluted stories, many of which include the notion that Bristol was indeed pregnant but had an abortion on a trip to New York with Mrs. P. Bristol’s mysterious absence from school and her bulging belly (in dated photos) help to lend credence to this part of the story. Beyond that, the possibilities are endless.

Andrew Sullivan has been a stubborn Trig Truther since the beginning, and now he’s back on board, pointing out the discrepancies in Mrs. P’s latest version of how she learned of Trig’s Down Syndrome.   The right wing will mock him again, but it’s great to see he’s still on the case.

All I know for sure is that the story of Mrs. Palin’s wacky secret pregnancy is another one of her stupid self-serving lies, and if that bitch is Trig’s mother, I’m the Queen of Sheba.

Posted in News, Rants | Tagged , , | 18 Comments

The Holy Grail or Damn Near

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Aren’t these jeans from Karmaloop breathtaking?!   I would wear them just to acquire a nice diamond-shape pattern on my legs. Or to impress my friends with the little blobs of fat that stick out through the holes.

Nothing cheers me up like a browse through the wonderland that is Karmaloop. Complete this sentence:

These jeans would be great for —————————.

Posted in Fashion | Tagged , , | 33 Comments

Two Shopbop Girls and One Contest

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This Shopbop girl has been bothering me for ages. Why does she always have to jut her head forward like this? Who tells her to do it? Or is it her trademark or something? Waaah, make it stop!

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Now, this Shopbop girl really kills me. She’s just so awful! The horrible asymmetrical hairdo, the aggressive facial expression and the weird body-language. I totally hate her! Why is she there? I think of her as The Goony Bird Girl but I’m open to a new name for her if you’ve got one.

Now! Here’s a good contest. Even though I still haven’t announced the 2 winners of the Name the Baby Contest, I do have the prizes ready. (Say hello to Hazel here.)   For this new contest, the prize will be the Dead Sweater by Lucky Jeans. It’s a size small.

Okay:   Find the Shopbop girl I would like to be if I could be a Shopbop Girl. Hint: Think “slutty.”

Posted in Contest, Fashion, Rants | Tagged , , | 41 Comments

Meet My Brother!

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My father is a man who likes to get married and have children. Of my five half-siblings, I have only bonded with Michael, possibly because we were the “black sheep” of our families or maybe just because he’s so lovable.

Michael has more tattoos that you’ll ever want to see. Not only that, he is a butcher. Meat is his calling.

When my teenager was little and I got a full-time job, Michael took care of him every day. When anyone has hurt me, Michael has offered to kill them.   Once, he married my best friend, but they were just being silly and now they know better.

Michael came to visit over the weekend and he brought his beautiful girlfriend Shelly, who is studying engineering and drives a big motorcycle. She is a great girl. I didn’t realize the extent of her greatness until she sent me this picture of a dead squirrel she saw in the street near my house!

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May Shelly and Michael be together forever, and may all squirrels be dead ones!

*UPDATE:

Michael just got his own “ma haine dure” tattoo, as well as an International No symbol that should cover everything else. Great job, Mike! xo

mikes-newest-tattoos

Posted in Art, revenge | Tagged , | 14 Comments

A New Roommate

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Mr. Capote is long gone. An old guy with pneumonia came and went. Yesterday, a new roommate arrived, connected to some sort of oxygen machine whose decibel level is akin to a loud blow dryer up against your ear.

The entire room is filled with a shrill hissing sound that immediately rattles ones brain. When Max’s attending doctor made her rounds today, she confessed that the noise was driving her nuts.

Max doesn’t want to switch to a new room, now that he has the window. But what about the noise?!? It is constant, 24 hours a day, and it is bound to ruin his hearing.

The poor man attached to the machine is unable to speak, but his family came today and gave him some paper to write on. I then realized that he is a person and not just a nuisance devised to torture my son and me. I told the   family that I would try to look out for their father, even though it’s hard enough getting sub-adequate care for Max.

So far, since my last update, there has been a blood clot, an infection, and the discovery that Max’s right arm is broken. No wonder it hurts! No one will reposition him unless you ask, and even then there may be a wait. The patients are supposed to be washed every day; every 4 days is the norm, and sometimes longer. They have never once offered up a toothbrush. Not once.

The nurses like to move the bedside tray around two feet out of reach. They also like to come in and talk about Jesus. If you happen to be an atheist, you will need to keep your mouth shut, since they have so much power over your basic comfort, not to mention your actual life.

It has been nearly nine weeks now. It’s hard to know what to do to make life in this “hospital” more tolerable. My patient has no appetite and is resigned to the fact that no one will come when he pushes the call-button. If only I could trade places with him.

Posted in Celebrities, Horrible Stuff, Religion | Tagged , , | 37 Comments

A Good Question Worth Considering

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After mocking ShopCurious the other day, I was disarmed by the playful response from the site’s creator, Susan. On her ShopCurious blog, she poses the question, What would you like to be remembered for?

I think it’s a great question and not at all a morbid one, despite my husband’s tendency to flip out when I mention my death or my funeral arrangements. Most people don’t like contemplating their existence, let alone the fact that it’s finite. Like Woody Allen, I don’t mind dying, I just don’t want to be there when it happens!

I used to worry about the way people might remember me: I figured they would open my drawers and shriek, “God, did this bitch hoard cashmere sweaters!” That alone made me want to make sure to live forever. Or to give the sweaters away while I had the chance.

But something about Susan’s blog caused me to stop and ponder the question. It’s a hard one. I tried to answer it but I think that at different times in your life, your perspective changes, sometimes radically, and your answer may change as well.

I’m more sure of what I don’t want to be remembered for. I don’t want to be remembered as someone who never lived up to her potential. I don’t want to be remembered for any kind of betrayal. I don’t want to be remembered for caving in to outside pressure.   Most of all, I don’t want to be remembered for failing my children, and that is clearly the toughest challenge.

Thinking about Susan’s blog, it also occurs to me that I don’t want to be remembered for closing my heart to an offer of friendship. I’m here for you Susan, even though I made fun of that horrible rat necklace.

May you all enjoy your Dio de los Muertos !

Posted in Religion, Words | 16 Comments

All New Chance to Spend Money

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Here is the second offering from Sister Wolf’s Hoarded Fashion Collection .

All proceeds will pay bills and enable the Sister Wolf Boat to stay afloat for the time being. Own a piece from this collection and you will own a piece of Sister Wolf’s tragic history to show off to your children and grandchildren or that bitch in your office.

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Chanel earrings, never worn. Four inch dangling strings of pearls, rhinestones and sparkly double C’s with a diamante bow clip. Guaranteed authentic. These are serious earrings: heavy and eye-catching, they say “I have a rich sugar daddy and you don’t!” I planned to wear them in Las Vegas on my birthday but I forgot to bring them.   $250. SOLD

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Vintage Native American silver and turquoise cuff, with dangling earrings. 1950s or earlier. This cuff is best for a small wrist but it can be adjusted a bit for size.   $110

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Oh dear, how do I explain these skull earrings? My brain saw gold and diamonds and rationalized that it was a must item. 14K yellow gold and diamonds, the little hoops can be worn separately, too.   By Sydney Evans, retail for $725.   $400.

Don’t forget there’s still some Chanel and Vivienne Westwood over here that may be gone by the weekend, so go have another look.

If anything interests you, let me know at sisterwolf666@gmail or at my other email address.

Leave comments at your own risk. I really really don’t want to hear anything that doesn’t sound like “Great, I’ll take it!” Being destitute can make one kind of touchy.

Posted in Art, Fashion | Tagged , , | 2 Comments

The Wrong Color

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I couldn’t help admiring this dress until I read the description. “Black and donkey coloured long-sleeved knit dress…

The attached sweater thing looks kind of mauve, doesn’t it? What color is “donkey coloured,” anyway?

Many hundreds of years ago, when I was a script reader, I had to read a non-fiction book about a small town doctor who was accused of molesting several female patients. During the trial, a prim witness was asked to describe the color of the doctor’s penis. Flustered and embarrassed, she sputtered: “It was penis colored!”

Penises, donkeys, this dress is dead to me.

Posted in Fashion, Words | Tagged , | 14 Comments

Another Girl Hates Me!

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And not only that, she called me a stupid cunt! See, this is why I’m against comment-censorship. Instead of deleting Ellen’s rant, I would like to deconstruct it. I will need all the help I can get, though. Here is Ellen’s reply to my last post:

dude, don’t hate the player, HATE THE GAME. opiates feel so good. im sure you don’t hate on people who drink booze, and yet look at all the damage alcohol causes to peoples lives. on one hand you are ‘taking up bandwidth’ as you call it, with your endless bitter pap, yet you encourage (nay, harrass) people you don’t even know to ‘look at themselves’ and accuse them of being unhappy and damaged. I think in the case of bloggers who don’t walk their own talk, they SHOULD censor THEMSELVES, so we don’t have to constantly roll our eyes at their bullshit, denial or not.

First of all, why do these people call me “dude?” I feel like the Elephant Man! I AM NOT AN ANIMAL! I’m a   female! Next, “don’t hate the player, hate the game:” Is that a lyric from a rap song? I don’t understand it. Can I hate the player AND the game if I want to?? And also too, must I hate “on” things, rather than simply hate them?

Then the opiates. Jesus. Anyone who promotes the use of opiates is either hopelessly naive or contemptible. It’s like being in favor of drunk driving. The only outcome is prison or death. Anyone who persists in thinking that drug addiction is cool is in for an ugly awakening.

Let’s see, what next. There’s the “endless bitter pap,” but that’s fair enough. One’s person’s pap is another person’s epiphany.

But what about the “nay?” That is a problem. Why does Ellen use the archaic form of “no” in that sentence? Is it ironic or just pretentious bad writing? English majors, speak up!

In the last sentence, Ellen suggests that I don’t walk my own talk. I have searched for the meaning of this expression and it seems to mean “practice what you preach.” Ellen, I wish you had been more specific! I do use a walker at present, so try to go easy on me. If you’re trying to say I’m a hypocrite, then yes, I’m at least as hypocritical as the next person.

Finally, in her follow up comment, Ellen suggests that I’m a stupid cunt, and here I must vigorously disagree. Stupid is such a relative term, after all, and while I’m certainly stupid in my own way, I’m not nearly as stupid as Ellen. Therefore, I remain a cunt, but not a stupid cunt.

Posted in Art, revenge, Words | Tagged , , | 46 Comments

Finally, the Cunt Ring!

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I wasn’t even looking for it, and boom, there it was! Only $31, too.

All the stuff at The Alley Chicago reminds me of the gnarlitude girl, who never tires of saying, “Fuckin RAD!” or “Look at my old man, fuck yeah!” I’m sure that in real life, she’s a very nice girl who doesn’t really love “opiates” even though she cites them in her category “What I’m Into.”

I came across the cunt ring while searching for stuff by Ineke Otte, a Dutch designer whose hideous jewelry is currently featured at ShopCurious. Their merchandise is usually pretentious and overpriced, but normally it’s at least aesthetically pleasing. Here is Ineke Otte’s rat necklace:

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WHY, ShopCurious?!? This is just crap! You can’t fool me by saying it’s an “avant garde piece.”

Obviously, I receive too many news letters from too many shopping sites. I don’t have the time or the will to look at most of them, but they are useful for reminding me of how shallow I used to be. Not that I’ve stopped being shallow, but I don’t pursue it any more. Now when I get dressed, I can honestly say that the shoes I wear are which ever ones my husband brings me when I whine, “Can you put on my shoes?”

The broken hip is a constant nuisance. I am really, really sick of it. But it has given me more compassion for my son, who is still learning to sit up in bed.

Posted in Fashion, Horrible Stuff | Tagged , , | 30 Comments