Some Bitch Sat On My Handbag


I went to a dinner party and someone’s sister-in-law sat on my Vivienne Westwood handbag. I believe I have post traumatic stress disorder due to this event, and I’d like to sue her fat ass to kingdom come. There’s a photo of the bag somewhere here if you want to better understand the Horror.

Meanwhile, I’m resorting to my big Paul Smith bag from January 2007, and everyone will think I’m a dope who just jumped on the Yellow Bandwagon. Hmph, as if. I’ve even started wearing my yellow shoes just to show that I’m not afraid to match my accessories. Sister Wolf makes her own rules, Godammit.

Please take a moment to pray for my injured bag, may she fully recover her former glory, amen.

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Tripping With & Without Albert Hofmann

Albert Hofmann, who invented LSD, died this week at age 102. I went to read about him at MAPS, where he is obviously revered. I learned that when Hofmann took his second ‘trip,’ he was only able to write 13 words to describe his experience:

Beginning dizziness, feeling of anxiety, visual distortions, symptoms of paralysis, desire to laugh.

That sums it up pretty well, except for the part where you get paranoid and you can’t bear the way your face looks in the mirror and you keep trying to vacuum the same part of the rug and your mom comes in and yells at you.

How ironic that Hofmann’s death coincides with a horrible fashion flashback to the 70s. Every fashion site I look at is infested with colorful long dresses that don’t seem appropriate for anything besides a Love-in. I’ve even noticed peacock feather earrings, too.

Maybe these fashions are directed towards young girls, whose mothers are sure to scream “Bummer!” at the sight of those awful swirling prints. Thank god I have sons, who both prefer to dress in black.

On a blog I’ve just discovered at Elle magazine online, a writer describes herself as “….takes her style cues from Katherine Hepburn, Tina Chow, Mary Kate Olsen” etc. This struck me as kind of nauseating and self-aggrandizing, but of course it inspired me to try to encapsulate my own sense of style.

“Sister Wolf takes her fashion cues from Patti Smith, Morticia Addams, Keith Richards, and a Jewish grandma circa 1975. If it’s leather, black, cashmere, snakeskin or sparkly, I want it.”

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Blogging About Blogging About Blogging

Today I discovered that my blog was down, and I called out to my webmaster (i.e., my kid) to find out what was wrong. I was very pissed off, suffering from the delusion that my “readers” would be unable to access my blog and therefore lose interest. The whole purpose of a blog is to have interested readers, right?

But I wonder about these readers. Apart from my personal friends, is there a readership out there? I’m beginning to see that the blogs I go to most are the ones that deliver a predictable element: either fashion, gossip, politics, or the arts. I’m wondering if anyone wants to return to a blog that might be focused on crime, grammar, fashion, or Horrible Stuff, with only a consistent point of view to connect the subjects.

I’m disappointed that I don’t have millions of readers who leave enthusiastic comments like I see on the fashion blogs. Thirty people will comment on a blogger’s new skirt, for example. I’m lucky if I get one comment from some idiot who defends Kimora Lee Simmons, months after I’ve made fun of her.

So in essence (and here I’m getting to use the phrase “in essence,” which I really like), I feel that my dream of being offered a lucrative book deal or a devoted following of brilliant eccentrics is not going to come to pass. I’m annoyed but maybe I can turn this into a positive experience by deliberately addressing myself to the one or two people who stumble into my cyberpath.

Hi, you two! What’s new? Anything good or bad to report? Did you see the Jimi Hendrix sex-tape? Aren’t you sick of that Reverend Wright? What a fucking egotistical maniac, right? Oh god, and what about Rumer Willis being chosen as one of People Magazine’s most beautiful people? Hahahaha!

Also, when I went to the dentist today I found out that I have six cavities, yes, 6. But at least my dental hygienist made me laugh by talking shit about the other hygienist, who apparently wears a wig.

Okay then. Leave a comment about my skirt!   Just kidding. xxoo.

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Incest is the New Black

Here we are, trying to digest the news about the crazy polygamist ranch in Texas, when a maniac in Austria admits to fathering seven kids with his imprisoned daughter. Can’t these people take turns getting arrested, so we can focus on one story at a time?

The guy in Austria clearly wins the Worst Father in the World award. Anyone whose grandchildren are also his children is a real bastard, in my book. God only knows how this tale will end. His wife will probably have to admit that she knew what was going on, and people will probably agree that she has Battered Wife Syndrome.   He will be rightly vilified as a monster of unthinkable proportions. First Hitler, now this guy, what’s up with Austria? It’s clear that paternalistic societies are dangerous, and not just to women.

Trouble comes in threes, as we know, so it stands to reason that Miley Cyrus has to choose this moment to implode, or whatever it is she’s doing via her publicists. Big deal that she posed with a bed-sheet in Vanity Fair! She’s fifteen going on thirty, and teenagers today are horrifyingly casual about sex and nudity.

I’m much more concerned about Miley’s relationship with her dad. Ever since I first saw them together, my feeling has been, Eeoow. There is something inappropriate going on, and you’d have to be blind to not see it. Why are they always all over each other? Why is she always out on a red carpet with him as her date? Miley’s mom better get her ass in gear before it gets uglier.

Years ago, I worked for a woman who was molested by her grandfather when she was a girl. Her story shook me to the core, and for a long time, I couldn’t look at an old grandpa without thinking, ‘Child Molester!’ I got over it, mostly.   But now I’m going to feel creepy about old Austrian guys.

Thank goodness I’ve always felt creepy about Billy Ray Cyrus.

Posted in Horrible Stuff, News | Tagged , , , | 15 Comments

The Perfect White T-Shirt

A long time ago, but not long enough, I met a handsome Cuban artist at a housewarming party. I had just read about the artist in the Los Angeles Times, and I recognized him, which gave him quite a thrill. I was mad at my then-boyfriend, so I encouraged the attention of the handsome artist, who licked the palm of my hand and asked for my phone number.

The following evening, we went out to dinner. He was wearing a white t-shirt. He began a long soliloquy about his search for the perfect white t-shirt. I realized to my horror that he was an idiot. He discussed his t-shirt obsession without a hint of irony or self-consciousness. I could barely eat. The date ended in a gruesome exchange of minor sexual favors and I was not surprised to discover that his paintings were all dominated by a giant phallus. If only I could remember his name!

Anyway, I myself love to find a nice white t-shirt. It’s hard to find one with the right fit and fabric. I prefer a classic crew neck and a soft, thin, stretchy cotton. So far, the closest I’ve come to perfection is the James Perse basic short-sleeve crew and the same style by Zooey. If there’s anything better, I want to know about it! I’d also like to remember that Cuban idiot’s name, but nothing will retrieve it.

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Sex With Cows Doesn’t Pay

NJ policeman Robert Melia is in trouble for ‘engaging barnyard animals in sex acts.’ He has already been charged with child molestation. Perhaps he turned to an understanding cow when he realized that sex with kids can be a risky business. I won’t be surprised if Mr. Melia accuses the cow of coming on to him. Those Zoophile guys are always convinced that the animal was flirting with them.

This story seems linked somehow to the trainer who was killed by a grizzly bear while they were filming a commercial. Rocky The Bear was a big star, having appeared with Will Ferrell in some stupid comedy.

Maybe animals want to be left alone. Maybe that bear was acting on the part of helpless cows! Maybe he was saying, “We like you humans well enough, but we don’t want to have sex with you or help you sell products!” Last month, a woman was conducting a show with two cheetahs at her Wildlife Conservation Center when they attacked her. She was bitten more than 40 times. You’d think they made their point, but no, the woman plans to continue her ‘work’ with big cats.

Let’s hope that Rocky The Bear isn’t put to death for acting like a wild animal. The real animal is Robert Melia.

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Sylvia Plath at Shopbop

Dear Sylvia,

I’m sorry to inform you that there’s a dress named after you, available at Shopbop. I don’t know why anyone would name a dress ‘The Sylvia Plath’ but that’s what happened. I hope you like modal and spandex, with ruching and shoulder ties.

I know you weren’t thinking of fashion when you put your head in the oven….or were you? I too have wanted to kill myself after looking at horrible fashion. Thank god you don’t have to see ‘The Gertrude Stein’ which is made by the same company and even more tragic and inappropriate.

Yours apologetically,

Sister Wolf

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Cult Wife Fashion

I am apparently too hardened and jaded to feel bad for the crazy Mormon wives who want their children back. Like Pink Floyd says, “Leave those kids alone!” I am especially taken with the wife who led the tour of the “compound,” who resembles a young Frida Kahlo with her unibrow. Maybe the women can be de-programmed and make use of their pompadours to become rockabilly chicks?

Anyway, over here I found these two photos that suggest Marc Jacobs is thinking “Cult Wives” for fall 08.

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The Divorce Necklace

I love this necklace! It would make a thoughtful gift for a newly divorced friend, and the online store also has an anatomically correct heart charm with a dagger to stick in it.

You can never have too much jewelry, as long as it’s expensive, vintage, or disturbing.

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Let’s Worship Olivier Theyskens

Yes, we love his work for Nina Ricci and for Rochas before that, but let’s just love him for being beautiful. I believe he is on a par with Johnny Depp, if that’s not too sacrilegious a statement.

Thank you, Olivier, for not cutting your hair.

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