The Price of Money

I was reading some crap about Michelle Obama’s style vs Carla Bruni’s, when I was stopped short by this photo. The woman in green makes Carla Bruni look like a PTA lady, doesn’t she?

Shiekha Moza is married to the Emir of Qatar, Sheikh Hamad bin Khalifa Al Thani, one of the wealthiest royals in the Middle East. She is the mother of seven children, and has worked to reform the status of woman in her country. A UNESCO special envoy for education, she has made public education a priority and given Academics a new role in crafting Qatar’s new democracy.

She is often dressed in custom Dior, and no matter how many pictures you look at, she is always impeccably groomed and absolutely stunning. The only problem is, she is married to this guy:

I’m thinking, Tom and Katie, multiplied by a thousand.

Could you do it, ladies? Or put another way, which deal would be easier to turn down, Katie’s or Her Highness Sheikha Mozah Bint Nasser Al Missned’s?

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Ride a Cock Horse!*

Alright, who’s gonna buy me this new penis necklace by Vivienne Westwood?

It’s a silver satyr riding a tiger’s eye penis…and a nice one at that!   Mothers’ Day, anyone?

*

Posted in Art, Fashion | Tagged , | 14 Comments

God Save the Queen

I can’t understand anti-monarchist sentiments, when the Queen of England has given us all so much pleasure. I first fell for her in 1982, when some guy broke into her bedroom at Buckingham Palace, and she calmly spoke to him for ten minutes until someone came in and rescued her. What a mensch, or whatever you call a woman who can handle shit like this without getting ruffled!

I also like how she won’t let go of her handbag. This is a woman whose handbag will never, ever be sat upon by some fat bitch at a dinner party. People always like to wonder what she keeps in her bag, but I couldn’t care less. I’d rather know what brand she likes, besides Launer.   As we all know, Lady Di loved Lana Marx bags, and who wouldn’t??

My brother-in-law received an OBE or MBE from the Queen, who pinned a medal to his coat (unless I dreamt that part…he did show me the medal in its special box, though.) So that makes me feel close to her. Her husband is a different story. Why does he look like a Nazi war criminal? Not that he isn’t a fun person in his own right; here is a list of some of his famous   gaffes, which tend to be racist in nature. One can only imagine what he said to Her Majesty after their meeting with the Obama’s.

I like to think she gave him a little smack and replied, “Oh Philip, don’t be a cunt!”

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Crazy Mothers Club III

Sylvia Plath was a crazy mother, but what should we make of her son’s suicide? We know that depression runs in families, but most of us manage to hang on, even if our mothers were crazy.

Maybe when a family member commits suicide, it presents itself as an option that wouldn’t otherwise be considered. My own mother liked to threaten suicide, but her theatrics only went as far as rattling her pill bottles.

I had a phase, a few years ago, of routinely announcing that I wanted to put my head in the oven. I still think it’s a funny image. I am hoping to find a jeweler who will collaborate with me on my vision of a gold medallion depicting a little oven with legs sticking out of it. In memory of Sylvia, the feet would be wearing low-heeled pumps.

The other day, my ex noted that his uncle and a cousin had committed suicide, but he had an excuse for both of them; they didn’t really count, in his opinion. Men can be funny about depression, because it goes against their gender description.   Yet they kill themselves far more often than woman do, in a ratio of 4 to 1 in the US.   Are women more adept at suffering? My feeling is Yes.

When a famous person commits suicide, it’s always a blow. It makes me wonder why they didn’t wait another day, or call their doctor, or just stay in bed. Nicholas Hughes seems by all accounts to have been a vibrant, talented and lovely human being, who didn’t suffer from depression until his father died from cancer. It sounds like the loss broke his heart, and he simply couldn’t recover.

When Hunter Thompson killed himself, my prevailing reaction was resentment. How could someone so pugnacious just give in like that? What a quitter!

People who commit suicide are not only depressed but impulsive, apparently. Most important, they have lost all sense of humor. Sylvia Plath should have waited around, until the image above struck her as funny. I’m glad my own crazy mother set a better example by sticking around and tormenting us until she was 73.

Posted in Disorders, News | Tagged , , | 22 Comments

The Lourdes Project II

Remember when we all admired   her unibrow and moustache? Lourdes has evidently succumbed to either societal pressure or her mother’s obsession with beauty procedures. Here they are arriving in Malawi to purchase a new child.

Six months ago, Lourdes was still sporting the natural look.

Oh well. Lourdes is a beautiful girl, but it would have been nice for young women to have a new role model in the Frida Kahlo tradition. I just hope it was Lourdes who made the decision to go for the clean shaven look.

If your mom filled her face up with Sculptra and botox, you might have conflicted feelings about beauty and its importance. On the left, above, I see a woman who has drunk from Life’s Cup. On the right, I see a woman who has siphoned the Cup into her cheeks.

By this time tomorrow, Lourdes may have a new little sister. I’m sure it’s not really colonialism on Madonna’s part to enlarge her family by plucking children from Africa. She’s just trying to save Malawi, for god sake! As she explained to Vanity Fair, “I didn’t choose Malawi. Malawi chose me.”

Posted in Celebrities, News | Tagged , , | 11 Comments

David Duff, Samurai

Once upon a time, a Crazy Russian Bitch launched a bizarre attack on me on a blog I visited. Then, she started attacking me on her own blog, mocking the way I wrote about my broken pelvis. She blocked me from commenting on these personal attacks, and she finally became so belligerent about me on the first blog that she ended up in a feud with its authors.

Then, she mocked me to one of her readers, David Duff. I found David Duff’s blog and left a friendly comment there.

The Crazy Russian Woman was beside herself. When Mr. Duff refused to be discourteous to me, she was furious. She wrote a post about why he was a bastard, and why she was deleting him from her blogroll!   Ooooooh!

Since then, she has written a vicious post about another blogger who has cancer and had inadvertently enraged her by turning to God.

She has continued to behave like a crazy African dictator, so obviously she can often be enjoyed just for her delusional arrogance. Here, she calls Obama a ‘socialist piece of shit.’

Meanwhile, David Duff has continued to defend my honor by maintaining a civil and warm cyber-friendship with me despite the fearsome wrath of Her Craziness.

The internet can be full of potholes for the unwary, but it’s nice when someone turns out to be a true gentleman, even if he’s an archconservative. David Duff is therefore the first recipient of the Sister Wolf Samurai Award. All hail him!

Posted in Art, Disorders | Tagged , , | 13 Comments

Behold the Boyfriend Jeans!

It’s Britney, bitch! Nah, just kidding.

God, I fucking rule.

Here I look fat, but so what, I have antlers.

So here’s the ensemble, as recommended by my trusted cyber-advisors. The white tank top, bangles, fitted jacket, and the fierce shoes.   I wore rocked this out to dinner tonight, with all three tags hanging out of the jeans!   I wanted to make it clear that the jeans were A PRIZE I WON, and not something I would actually buy.   It was a special birthday dinner for my boy, who is 33 today, the same age as Christ when he died for your sins.

Admit I rule. Let’s see Madonna look as good when she’s 55. Until then, she can kiss my fat ass!

Posted in Fashion, Religion | Tagged , , | 18 Comments

Vintage Chanel Shit

And more, in Shop My Closet! (right-hand column, under ‘About’)

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Astral Weeks and Me

Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks is not only the greatest album in pop music history, it’s the one that the angels listen to in heaven.* A new live version of this 1968 record has just been released, and while it’s a stunning accomplishment, it only draws one back to the original. Nothing comes close to the ineffable, haunting beauty of Astral Weeks.

I remember the day my friend Max brought it home. He listened to it through headphones, over and over. At some point, he started singing along with it. His voice was awful, even without the deafness of headphones. But my boyfriend and I were intrigued by his howling and the look of ecstasy on his face.

I was 16 years old when I first heard Astral Weeks, and it moved me beyond words, as it still does today. Sometimes, we walked down a dark wintry street in north London called Cypress Avenue, and if we were stoned enough, we’d sing Van Morrison’s lyrics: Well I’m caught one more time, up on Cypress Avenue…. Even then, the song was almost unbearably poignant.

Lester Bangs has famously written about Astral Weeks, and Rolling Stone has published more than one piece about the making of the album. The musicians came together without rehearsal, and were told by Van Morrison to “just follow where I’m going…”   The result is a blend of jazz, blues, folk and classical music that can be heard a million times without losing its power to awe.

I ended up naming my first son after Max. I married and divorced my boyfriend. Other music has featured strongly in my life, but Astral Weeks is the one that remains my lighthouse. If you don’t know this album, get a taste of it here.

*They also listen to Forever Changes, by Love, who you can learn about from Tobi Lynne.

Posted in Art, Religion | Tagged , | 20 Comments

My Fat Ass!

I was very pleased to hear that poor Megan McCain told that bitch Laura Ingraham to kiss her fat ass! I thought about it as I trudged through a shitload of ‘Obey’ products on Karmaloop while checking our the new products. “Obey my fat ass!” I said aloud to my computer. Voila, a t-shirt is born.

Speaking of my fat ass, I received the boyfriend jeans that I won courtesy of fashion herald! The irony of this prize cannot be overstated. I am thrilled. They are really loose and saggy. They won’t stay up without a belt.

So what should I wear rock with the boyfriend jeans? I know I’m supposed to rock some fierce shoes, and I will if I have to. But what are my other options? What kind of top or jacket would you like to see me rock with them?   Help a Sister out with this. I will attempt to model the best suggestions (contingent on my existing wardrobe of course.)

Posted in Fashion, News, Uncategorized, Words | Tagged , | 17 Comments