All the Words!

Annual lists of new words are usually a treasure trove of portmanteau and tech slang, with something for everyone to screech “EW!” about. The American Dialect Society’s list for 2022 is rich in both, predominately youth culture slang that slipped right by me, like “rizz.” I  generally like to keep up, but not knowing what rizz means was actually a blessing in disguise. In fact, it’s such an annoying word  that I’m choosing to believe it doesn’t even exist (like “goblin mode”).

Getting back to The American Dialect Society, its word for 2022 is the suffix “-ussy” from “pussy”

(as in “bussy” = “boy pussy,” now humorously attached to many
words) also -ussification: the process of creating new blended words with the -ussy suffix.

Runners-up included “quiet quitting”, “nepo baby”, “Dark Brandon”, and BFFR.

Words and terms about gender issues have proliferated in the last year, and here it’s hard not to sound reactionary in response to how difficult they are to navigate. In 2018, Amherst College posted a document titled Common Language Guide, with a 40 page glossary of terms serving “a need to come to a common and shared understanding of language…around identity, privilege, oppression and inclusion.”

Uh-oh. Here’s how the guide defines heterosexuality:

“A term developed as diagnosis of the hyper-infatuation with a different sex, first used by sexologist Karl-Maria Kertbeny in 1868…. [It] is used today to denote the normalized dominant sexual identity.”

Hmph! Now I feel a little less-than, know what I mean? I was comfortable with being hetero but now I see I might need to apologize for it. The definition of femininity is more strident, so brace yourselves. It includes the subtle admonishment, “Performing femininity in a culturally established way is expected of people assigned female at birth.” In this view, femininity is fraudulent, a performance, unless you’re queer or trans.

The  guide warns against “homonormativity,” or

the ever-present phenomenon where members of the LGBTQ+ community subscribe to heteronormative approximations of intimate, romantic and sexual lives that are the product of white, neoliberal (capitalist), sexist, transmisogynistic and cissexist norms.

And that’s fine, up to a point. That point would be the inability to converse with other humans without stepping into a minefield of acronyms designed to recognize categories of “identity.” Yesterday, I encountered the term “persons with male bodies” for the first time. Keep it up, you guys (okay, not “guys, how about “comrades?) and life will be one big microaggression.

Apparently, the document has been removed from the college website but I feel enriched by learning the term transmisogynoir (“the marginalization of black trans women and trans feminine people that is inclusive of transphobia, racism, and misogyny, and how all of these intersect.”) Now that’s a wonderful portmanteau, not as good  as mansplaining but still music to the ear.

Just yesterday, I read the word “manfluencer” and laughed out loud. Adding man as a prefix, like mancave and manosphere, is always fun, but I hunger for more and better manonyms, like the one I made up to describe male sulking: “mannui” (pronounced, duh, män-wee). At the same time, I can’t stand terms with lady thrown in, like “ladyboner,” ladyparts, or even Lady Gaga. Words can have different effects on different people, but some are universally disliked (moist) or enjoyed (gossamer). Just recently, I’ve been especially sensitive to “lived experience.” It’s so, so awful.

Young people today are inventing words that infantalize, like lil, smol, feels, and adulting, which handily explains their entire stance. Good for them. I’m just glad I can still use dope and wack to signal my feels, in case they are interested. And I have my own list of words that I’m ready to banish for 2023. Here they are:

Yassss (a perennial scourge, like “journey”)
thicc
thirsty
fam
main character
if I’m honest
GOAT
check all the boxes
understood the assignment
pro tip
cringe
fire

But here’s something to feel good about: Compared to their older counterparts, Gen Z are more concerned about how they use slang in conversation. Nearly half (46%) of Gen Z Americans worry about using slang terms incorrectly, compared to 32% of Baby Boomers.

Love to see it.

As I’m always saying, words matter! Unless you excel at interpretive dance, use them with care. Or to quote Jules in Pulp Fiction: English, Motherfucker!

 

*disclosure: Some have expressed concern about my absence. I’m finding it hard to write, due to senility and existential malaise. So don’t worry, I’m still here. Sort of. xo

Posted in irritants, Words | Tagged , , | 6 Comments

Grammy Awards 2023 Exegesis

Okay, let’s get Madonna out of the way (as if we could!) Why can’t she see what we see? Where are the loved ones who care enough to caution her about her face? I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want to be pitied or laughed at. Right? But her surprise appearance revealed a gigantic blowfish of a face, with crazy milkmaid braids and a slit skirt revealing a stocky old leg in fishnet stockings. At one point, she even snapped at the audience, “You’re supposed to applaud here.” Let’s hope she doesn’t trouble us again until 2024.

It was a suspenseful showdown between Beyonce, Harry Styles, and Adele for Best Something. Album, record, I can’t remember. Bey won two awards, breaking a record for Grammys won, and she gave a humble speech with gratitude to god and her parents. Her dress was awful but at least not see-through this time. If I note that her boobs have grown with her fame, people will be mad at me, so I won’t do that.

Harry Styles performed in a tinsel shroud, and looked genuinely shocked when he won the award that Beyonce wanted.

Adele won an award for “Go Easy on Me” and thanked her son (I think.) She was thinner than ever and had an adorable fangirl meeting with The Rock, who looked like a massive Oscar Award.

That stupid Steve Lacey performed his hit song that made one wonder anew at his popularity. He has zero charisma, can barely sing, and looks like he just woke up.

Brandy Carlile pretended to be a rockstar but worse, she was introduced by her wife and kids, in a nod to LGBTQ inclusivity. No heterosexual artist was moved to display his/her spouse. She sometimes wears cool suits, but not this time.

Stevie Wonder was fantastic, performing a raucous “Higher Ground” to the delight of the black people in the audience. Can we stop letting white people attend the Grammys? They can’t even clap on the right beat.

Speaking of white people, Taylor Swift, the whitest person on earth, wore a a boring sequin two piece outfit that Bob Mackie wouldn’t give the time of day to. As always, she insisted on “dancing” in the audience, to show that she is just a fun girl after all. She didn’t perform or present anything, a huge win for me personally.

Lizzo was her usual vivacious self, performing with a bunch of huge back-up women and exuding a joy that is hard to resist, even for me. I still think she is way too fat because I’m not blind and there is such a thing as too thin and too fat.

Also fat, but horribly full of himself was the new Sam Smith 2.0. Recreating himself as a sex-crazed diva, he arrived with a crew of gender fluid creatures dressed in blood red gowns with weird vampire makeup. His performance was deeply disturbing. He is no Lil Nas X, alright? I officially never want anything to do with him.

Best new artist went to Samira Joy, a woman with a beautiful voice who I plan to learn more about. Yay for beautiful voices!

A salute to 50 years of Hip Hop was mostly great, even though I’m too lame to know most of the artists. At least they seemed authentic and in the moment when they performed.

What else? J Lo and Ben sat near she stage, so we were treated to his dour expression and her attempts to look like she was enjoying herself. Lose him, J Lo. It’s going to be exhausting to keep his spirits up.

As for fashion, Tems (above) looked gorgeous in Vivienne Westwood, Cardi B looked great in a blue avant garde ensemble, Pharrell Williams was pimpin hot in red leather and fur, Laverne Cox looked amazing in black and gold faux-croc, Miguel, who is actually really talented, wore an awful faded denim get up, and even though I can’t stand her, Doja Cat wore a great black latex gown with matching gloves.

There was a big finale featuring a bunch of rap artists sitting at huge table piled with a million pounds of fruit. Jay-Z rapped furiously about either god or himself, I couldn’t tell, but it seemed good. DJ Khaled ruins everything but not this.

Okay? Sorry it was so blah but it’s not my fault! let me know if I forgot anything.

 

 

 

Posted in Celebrities, Fashion | Tagged , , , | 7 Comments

Elon Musk: What a Fucking Cunt™!

I am reviving my dormant What a Fucking Cunt™!  feature for a cunt who richly deserves this honor and really leaves me no choice but to revile him… Elon “I’m a cunt” Musk.

It would be nice to be able to go about my business without my ire being aroused by every little thing, and I’m trying. But how can one ignore the concerted effort by Elon Musk to make everyone hate him? One cannot, even if one rarely uses Twitter and doesn’t give a shit about Tesla.

I am torn between wondering what is wrong with him and wishing he would get some comeuppance for his stupid behavior. There is a three part documentary on BBC that apparently delves into his childhood and family life to try to explain the person he is now. One reviewer called him a big baby who is stuck in the mindset of a vindictive 12 year old. He was bullied relentlessly in school, which might account for his need to bully his employees and everyone who doesn’t genuflect to his Genius.

But just as Trump probably has good reason to be a hateful narcissistic piece of shit, Elon doesn’t get a free pass.

I first heard the name Elon Musk from my kid, many years ago, who said he was a brilliant inventor. I didn’t hear anything else until he started impregnating people, although clearly he was world famous for other things. I sort of admired him when he hosted SNL and announced that he is autistic; what a boon to the community to be associated with a successful CEO instead of Rainman! I thought in my innocence.

But now I worry that people will think Elon is an asshole because of his autism, whereas there is no connection. Kanye himself is now trying to assert his self-diagnosed autism as a reason for his “outspokenness” as though being a Neo-Nazi is a feather in his cap.

Let’s be clear: people with autism can be assholes just like people without autism. Narcissistic assholes and bullies must be judged on the basis of their behavior unless they are in the midst of a psychotic breakdown.

If you’re not up to date on Elon’s shenanigans, he has just kicked a bunch of reporters off of Twitter, accusing them of doxing him and endangering his safety. Then, Linette Lopez, a journalist who tweeted about the time Elon was sued for doxing and harassing one of his critics, was summarily suspended too. So instead of being a worldwide space for public discussion, Twitter is now a toy where a troubled billionaire can air his grievances and punish detractors, while tweeting shit like “Wow, Twitter is on fire today!”emoji emoji. YES, bitch, because you’re beefing with everybody, that’s why.

So in short, Elon has turned out to be a whiny fascist whose ego can never be satisfied, who seems to revel in being hated.

Why do people think it’s an accomplishment to be hated?? Kanye’s stans are thrilled by his current status as provocateur-in-chief of pop culture, but here’s what I think. Unless he’s willing to shit onstage like GG Allin, he’s nothing special. Same with Elon Musk.

You think you’re a badass, Elon? Shit onstage or get off the pot!

Posted in Celebrities, News, Rants, revenge | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

Balenciaga Crimes Against Humanity

All the commotion about Balenciaga’s new ad campaign with children is totally misplaced, besides being just stupid.

Where are the complaints about their awful pantaboots worn to death by Kim Kardashian??

Where is the outrage?

These fucking pantaboots are so egregious, and worn by KK, they are an abomination. They probably cost a million dollars, they make your feet look enormous, and how do you wash them? Everything about them is just aggressively awful.

And yet it’s the ads with little kids that has the entire internet going nuts with inflated umbrage and puritanical pearl-clutching. Balenciaga has been forced to issue several apologies for the ads, evidently confirming that they are inappropriate child porn, and vowing to implement a barrage of “safeguards” so this will never, ever happen again.

Where the outraged masses see bondage paraphernalia, I see classic old-school punk.

Look at this stupid bear, for example. It’s punk, not B&D! Jesus Christ, people of Earth. Get a grip.

Sometimes, pornography, or inappropriate images, is in the mind of the beholder. I think the kids in these ads are cute. They are not sexualized, in my opinion, and there is nothing seductive about them. But the furor is off the charts, rife with allusions to pedophilia and child trafficking.

I would like to have seen a fraction of this outrage in response to the children separated from their parents at the southern border. Children in cages weren’t as incendiary as these kids with teddy bears. Instead of aiming some well-deserved wrath at Kim K for her fucking pantaboots, the internet condemned her for being too slow to denounce the brand currently most associated with her. She finally expressed her concern, even though she dresses her young children in heavy gold chains that she hastens to label as “real.” Her tone was mild but dutifully sanctimonious

Not too long ago, I spent time with my friend’s two year old daughter, who was running around their living room naked. The adorable little girl was making hilarious faces at me, and I took a couple of picture with my phone. I showed a picture to a family member, who accused me of imposing child pornography on her. I was genuinely shocked; all I saw was the funny expression, without noticing the body parts. We had a heated argument, that ended up with both of us threatening to ask our therapists to weigh in on it.

Her therapist sided with her, while mine sided with me. I can guess where they’d stand on the stupid Balenciaga controversy. But me and my therapist would be right.

What do you and your therapist think??

 

Posted in Celebrities, Fashion, Horrible Stuff, News | Tagged , , | 5 Comments

Voracious Content Consumer

A few weeks ago, the New York Times published a long piece about an awful socialite nobody’s ever heard of and called her “The New Queen of L.A.” One of the descriptive terms applied to her that I enjoyed was:  Ms. Staudinger is a voracious content consumer.

In the same conversation, she’ll recommend a documentary on music in 1971, a book on Los Angeles in 1974 and a TikTok she saw about brain vibrations.

Whoever she is, there were 650 comments complaining about her lack of appeal and importance. But I now refer to myself as a voracious content consumer, because I can’t stop trying to consume “content” in the hope that I will become a better person once I know everything about everything.

This compulsive consumption takes up nearly all my waking hours. I subscribe to fifty thousand newsletters covering politics, art, pop culture, psychology, books, even one from a Christian Ministry for its philosophical essays. I have to read all of them or at least scan them. I get the NYT online, and I have to read all the breaking news, then I have to decide which features to read: the Op-Eds, the heartbreaking human interest pieces, the latest celebrity-adjacent suicide, the film reviews, the health tips, the latest tech, the bemused shit about Those Kids and Their TikTok, and more. Basically, everything but sports. Thank god I hate sports.

Then I have to open all the email from shopping sites that promise to help me look like a French It-Girl. Then I have to scroll through Instagram before googling Pete Davidson.

I still worry that I’m missing  something important. It makes me anxious. But I haven’t been able to stop or even cut back in this stupid endeavor. My brain is filled with information that I don’t have time to process or make use of.

And it stops me from writing! I can’t tell if the stuff I’m dwelling on is interesting to anyone but me. And I don’t want to regurgitate the accepted wisdom of the day. Because we live in “an Attention Economy” according to a billion think-pieces.

Here’s what is foremost in my mind though:

How long will Donald Trump be tormenting us with his existence?
Why won’t Gym Jordan wear a jacket?
Are they kidding about Hunter Biden’s fucking laptop?
Why does Elon Musk want the whole world to hate him?
Is Morpheus8 better than Softwave?
Is silicone really that bad for your hair?
Why aren’t religious people concerned about who made god?
Why did Jane Aldridge marry that creepy gay guy?
Why do we take antidepressants when they’re only slightly more effective than placebos?
Why do people now say “If I’m being honest” instead of “to be honest” ?
Why is everybody writing about the crisis facing men and boys?*
Can we value any experience without documenting it?
Why can’t we explain the persistence of antisemitism?*
Why are people still impressed by luxury brands?
What happens when young people aspire to be Influencers instead of astronauts?
Why can’t we ever get enough of Jeffrey Dahmer?

* I plan to write about these topics because they continue to fascinate me, as soon as I stop voraciously consuming more content. Do you think I should bother? Let me know.

Meanwhile, I’m compiling a file of all-new stupendously egregious denim! Stand by for that too.

Posted in Disorders, irritants, Words | Tagged , , , | 3 Comments

Infinite Stupid

We were watching a true crime drama about a gullible family who let a pedophile into their midst like inviting a fox to a hen-house, and my husband was exasperated. “Oh please, no one is that stupid,” he complained. I started to defend the family, saying that ultra-religious people in a small town might actually be that naive. Privately, I wondered if he was right; maybe the story was exaggerated for dramatic effect.

Later, we watched part 2 of The Vow, a documentary series about a cult whose leader made women get branded. The members of the cult were people with money, relatively sophisticated people with jobs in Hollywood or tech or marketing. I couldn’t believe how stupid they were to buy into this guy’s shit, when he is so clearly a manipulative little conman.

The next day, I read something about Trump supporters and then it hit me: People are SO FUCKING STUPID! I mean, the level and scope of stupidity all around us is just staggering.

Were people always this stupid? Did they just hide it better? Are we so desperate for a guru or daddy or deity to guide us that we’ll surrender all logic and critical thinking?

I’m at the point where if someone doesn’t despise Donald Trump, I don’t want to waste time on them. They’re too stupid. Recently, two acquaintances have explained to me that they don’t really hate Trump because “They’re all the same.” They elaborated by stating that all politicians are corrupt, blah blah blah. So they’re telling me that a cold is like Ebola? Where is the sense of proportion or discernment?

It’s not a Tribal thing; it’s not that I only like people with my politics or opinions. It’s just the stupidity. Make it stop!

I have started following the Kanye West debacle, because as in most debacles, it’s hard to look away. Actually, in this case I am constantly refreshing my google to see if I missed anything. I know you’re thinking, Ha ha, look how stupid YOU are! But I will only admit to an immature fascination with spectacle. And crazy people.

I am pleased to say that now even Anna Wintour is done with him. Today, he said that denouncing him only proves his point about Jews controlling everything, an old antisemitic canard he has evidently stumbled upon in his mania.

I am so fascinated by Kanye’s meltdown that I’ve started following an account on Instagram that covers everything he says or does. I’ve seen all the video clips that were edited out of his recent interviews, and he is one angry dude operating on some kind of messianic delusion, burning all his bridges as fast as he can.

The real stupidity here lies in the comments from his fans. The more antisemitic and aggrieved he is, the fiercer is their support. He speaks the truth! He’s the only one brave enough to call it out! Watch out, the Jews gonna kill him! Every millionth comment, someone will express  dismay. I praised one of these people for trying to explain antisemitism, and I received this reaction: “You’re an OLD cat lady who will die alone!” (LOL, I hate cats.)  She turned out to be a white lady who keeps showing her pregnant belly and her flock of Aryan looking kids. At least she’s open minded enough to stick up for a deranged Rap icon.

Drowning in stupidity, I have turned to Middlemarch, which I read as an 18 year old stoner. It was great then but even better now, because I’m more appreciative of the narrator’s stinging wit. Thank god I can still read, when I’m not watching crime TV or scrolling on my phone. Mostly, I am trying to navigate through the daily ennui of being an old cat lady who will die alone, so writing this has been cathartic.

How are you surviving the stupidity? Confessions or helpful hints? Let’s hear from you!

Posted in Celebrities, Disorders, Rants | Tagged , , , , | 8 Comments

She’s Glad Her Mom Died

I’m Glad My Mom Died is the title of a new memoir by a former child actress I’ve never heard of, and it’s a best seller. It has received more attention than any other recent book that’s not about Donald Trump, and the response to it seems uniformly favorable.

For all I know, Jeanette McCurdy is a good writer. But it’s the shocking title that seems to please reviewers most. How daring of her! Good for her! The book is a chronicle of abuse by a terrible, exploitative and seemingly mentally ill stage mother whose conduct sounds like something from a Grimms’ Fairy Tale.

But now the mom is safely dead from cancer and Jeanette is sharing her story of suffering and redemption all over the internet to hearty accolades, not least from others who hate their parents and share her bold sentiment. A piece in the Huffington Post reveals that “it’s not uncommon to feel that way.” Uh-oh.

Naturally, as a mother I find this chilling. As a mother estranged from an adult child, I can’t help feeling the title embodies my worst fears. I know my adult child wants nothing to do with me for reasons only he understands. I mean, I know I wasn’t perfect and I yelled a lot. And abuse is in the eye, and narrative, of the self-proclaimed abused party.

But it pains me to think that my death will actually be celebrated, you know? I guess it won’t matter since I won’t be around to be horrified.

Back when I learned about forums for adult children who hate their mothers, I had to stop looking at their posts when someone admitted to feeling no grief upon losing their parent. They weren’t exactly proud of their reaction, like Jeanette seems to be, but rather a little defensive. The other mommy-haters on the forum reassured the griefless adult child that they looked forward to the death of their parent and the relief it would bring.

Since I can only speak for myself, and my own narrative of my experience as both a mother and an adult child of a mother, I guess it’s not for me to judge these damaged victims of bad parents. But it seems like the title “I’m Glad My Mom Died” is somehow acceptable in today’s zeitgeist (sorry!) of proud victimhood and trauma survivors, whereas the title “I’m Glad My Daughter Died” would never be published, let alone applauded.

Is it because it’s reasonable to hate your mom but not your daughter? What about “I’m Glad My Dog Died” or even “I’m Glad My Neighbor Died’? None of these work, do they?

My guess is it’s because the Awful Mother is now a staple of our cultural landscape, from Carrie to Mommy Dearest and beyond.

Mother’s can’t win, is my feeling. The best of us are still not good enough, although Donald Winnicott disagrees. (More about the concept of the good-enough mother here.) Our mistakes engender bitter resentments that time cannot eradicate for many. But it’s my belief that whatever you do as a parent will be wrong. All you can do is try your hardest to make the best decisions you can, to get help if you see you’re fucking up, and to love your kids unconditionally.

I’ve come to forgive my mother for her shortcomings and her bad behavior with the awareness that she was a complicated person shaped by her own difficult childhood. I’m not glad she died; I’m screwed up but I’m not heartless.

Jennette McCurdy tells an interviewer somewhat self-righteously that she’s “done the work” to earn the right to her title. Whatever that means. Is she sorry she was born? I’d like to ask her that. Because she owes her existence to her mother, which is not nothing.

And now she’s making a fortune by speaking Her Truth about her mother. She also complains in the book about her Nickelodeon co-star Ariana Grande’s greater success, which could lead to another brave best seller if Ariana could only die.

Just kidding! You do you, mommy haters.

Thoughts and insults, anyone?

 

* Giaquinto di Corrado Bottega, Medea, 1752, Hinton Ampner National Trust

 

Posted in Art, Celebrities, grief, Horrible Stuff, Words | Tagged , , , | 7 Comments

Kim and Pete: The Dream is Over

I know I should have seen it coming but let’s call me a hopeless romantic, or just a dope. When Pete talked about wanting to be a father, I heard wedding bells (and calls to available surrogates.) But then…you know the rest.

I need to know why! And who dumped who. Let Pete be the dumper, if you’re listening Jesus! How can they turn on a dime like that? Did something happen in Australia? Did Pete’s BDE fail him, or did Kim suddenly realize that he’s white?

When their thing was first reported, I was amazed by the incongruity just like everyone else. What the hell? I thought. But as it continued, I began furiously projecting. Kim must be smarter than we thought, if Pete likes her. In our narrative of Pete, he’s too smart and sensitive to waste his time on an idiot. She would have to have real substance as a human being, right? This meant that Kim Kardashian is not what she appears to be, e.g. an insufferable narcissist and plastic surgery addict!

And given Kim’s imagined ability to have any man, this meant that Pete is not only a great fuck but also a dynamic paragon of manliness. Plus, she introduced him to the kids!

I found myself daydreaming about Kim and Pete. Mostly it was hazy soft porn. I tried to imagine Pete’s frail physique juxtaposed with Kim’s gigantic mounds of silicone. On the one hand, ew. But on the other hand, I really wanted to visualize how it would work. I think this could be called mental fan-fiction.

I studied every picture of them to parse their body language. Their hand-holding was so cute! Their goofy selfies! Their trips to exotic beaches!

I was googling Kim-and-Pete several times a day. I couldn’t get enough. It as like a Novella only with higher stakes. And here’s the worst thing of all: I watched the Kardashian show for the whole season, eager for news about the budding love affair and for hints that Kim was not an idiot. My husband humored me and watched it too. We agreed that Kendall was painfully stupid but he thought Kourtney was even stupider. It’s a tough call, I guess.

At least I won’t have to watch any more of that crap. No more of their giant nothing-colored living rooms and staged heart-to-heart confidences. No more reminding my husband of how much Kylie has done to her face and how much weight Khloe has lost. No more of those nude lipsticked fish-pouts!

But when I woke up and heard about the break-up, I was devastated. I am not making this up; I was stunned and heartbroken. Could it be a mistake? Maybe so, because we didn’t hear it firsthand from Kim or Pete.

Now I’ve accepted that it’s over, and my hurt has turned to resentment. I feel cheated and duped. First I thought it was selfish of them to take away our only moments of respite from anxiety and global catastrophe. Now I’m wondering if the whole entire thing was a publicity stunt. So was it?? A friend believes it was a publicity stunt AND they also slept together. Whatever.

Now that Pete is history, clarity has returned and I see that Kim is indeed a big ho who can’t take her eyes off herself for a single minute and will do anything to hold the world’s interest. How dare she wear Marilyn’s dress! May she put on all the weight she’s lost and then some. May she take a fall down some stairs in those stupid stiletto heeled shoe-pants. God I hate her. I’m going to unfollow her on Instagram as soon as I wind this up.

I hope Pete can start dating someone twenty years younger than Kim whose butt doesn’t need a wheelbarrow to carry it and who doesn’t need hair extensions. I will forgive Pete for this slip-up because he is chronically depressed, genuinely funny, and because of that big dick. JUST KIDDING about the dick, of course, because a big brain is way more exciting, right ladies?

All we need to do now is predict Kim and Pete’s next love interests. Thoughts??

Posted in Celebrities, Disorders, love | Tagged , , , | 10 Comments

Don’t Look Down

Not long ago, I saw my own thigh in the sunlight though my bathroom window and I screamed. EW! Whose leg is that? I thought. I’m not kidding; that was my actual thought. I guess I expected to see my thigh as it exists in my memory. Not the world’s best thigh, but not a dry crepe-y one with no muscle tone. Today as I walked my dog, wearing cut off jeans because of the awful, muggy heat, I looked down and saw it again. Truly an old thigh, commensurate with my age but no less disappointing and even shocking.

You think this is stupid and shallow but just wait. You too will experience this cognitive dissonance unless you go blind, in which case you’ll have a while different set of problems. Since I rarely look at my own body in bright sunlight, I had no idea this was happening. A person I know who inspects every inch of her body and face every single day and exfoliates with a stiff vegetable brush will never be taken by surprise.

But keeping shit from falling apart is just too time consuming. It already takes me forever to get ready for bed, and my beauty routine is practically non-existent. Have  you guys seem Kim Kardashian’s new skincare line with nine (or 12?) products that she says are essential to use together in a certain order? Forget the cost. The time spent at your sink would move bedtime to around 4:am. No, Kim, don’t make me!

So being an old bag leaves you very few choices of how to visualize and project your image to yourself and the world. On one end of the spectrum is Paulina Porizkova, who at 57 never stops bitching about how the male gaze won’t acknowledge her aging appeal while shoving her remarkably well-preserved body in our face nonstop on Instagram.

Paulina rose to fame at just 18 years old as the first Central European woman to be on the cover of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue. Almost 40 years later, Paulina said she still feels sexy and hated society’s obsession with looking youthful. Despite still feeling confident though, the mother-of-two said younger men haven’t been interested in her.

 

daring to look her age!

 

Haha Paulina, you hate the obsession with looking youthful? I guess all the bikini shots are just something you do for fun.

She said: “I am now completely invisible.“I walk into a party, I try to flirt with guys and they will just walk away from me mid-sentence to pursue someone 20 years younger.”

God, just shut up Paulina and fuck off. Eat some sandwiches. If you want to hear more of this faux insecurity, check out her Instagram.

At the other end is Bridget Fonda, who has evidently rejected all efforts at looking young and attractive. When I first saw a recent picture of her, I didn’t believe it. It could not be her. Even though regular non-celebrities look old and fat when they’re old and fat, Bridget Fonda’s transformation is just startling. She is unrecognizable.

then and now

I felt sort of betrayed by Bridget. I should have admired her courage to stop pursuing a narrowly defined ideal of female beauty. Maybe she’s trying to live the opposite existence of her aunt Jane, whose face is now a clownish travesty

Somewhere in between these two extremes is a healthy outlook on aging. I just can’t find it.

It’s not the male gaze that bothers me. It’s my own gaze in the cruel morning light of my bathroom. I’m going to get some under eye filler and then go around pretending that I’d never get any filler, just like J. Lo and everyone else.

And I’ll stop wearing cut offs or just remember to not look down. Aging is so horrible! I just googled the insulting term “aging gracefully” and found a list of tips. I’m not going to follow any of them, because of my PDA, but you can if you want to.

Thoughts, ladies and gays?

Posted in Disorders, News | Tagged , , | 27 Comments

Because I’m a Monster

Boris

It has been a long and dismal few months. Our wonderful dog, Boris, passed away with cancer at 14 years old. Our whole world went dark. I realized that yet again I have lost a treasured part of my identity: Boris’s mom.

With the new silence in our house, we began to contemplate getting another dog. No dog could replace Boris, the sweetest most soulful Australian Shepherd. But I’ve had four dogs in my adult life and loved each one for their unique qualities. So we started looking.

We hoped for another Aussie. For one thing, they are just beautiful, and because we are shallow, we enjoyed the compliments each time we went out with Boris. We also loved the intelligence and loyalty of herding dogs.

We searched adoption pages and found Pepper, a 4 year old Aussie who was described as adventurous, smart, loving, great on walks and in the car. We drove for 90 minutes to meet her at the home of a rescue lady who had 20 dogs inside her sprawling ranch house. Sorry for writing “sprawling ranch house” but I’m in a hurry to get through this story.

Pepper jumped on us and seemed pretty wild but we were assured that she was just excited. We paid $600 for Pepper and signed a contract.

Driving home, Pepper barked and struggled to get into the front seat all the way home.

Once home, Pepper bounced off the walls. She was happy to jump on the couch for affectionate petting, but impossible to control. The next day, she was even wilder. She was supposed to know some commands but wouldn’t acknowledge any. She was an ordeal to walk. She started giving me hard, unblinking looks. She jumped over me on the couch, nearly knocking me over. She attacked her dog-bed, dragging  it around the house and growling.

So we called the rescue lady and said we couldn’t deal with Pepper. On the drive back, Pepper kept jumping on my thighs in her effort to get into the front seat. and we were rear ended by an SUV. The rescue lady could barely restrain Pepper when she took the leash. We felt giddy with relief when we drove off to Starbucks, the bruises blooming on my thighs.

Next, we got Zoey, who was extremely loving but would not stop grabbing our legs and fiercely humping us. Zoey could bark for hours, literally, without a break. She started chewing up the dog-bed. The humping got more aggressive. Luckily, this rescue girl wanted us to spend a couple of days with Zoey to see if we were a good fit. A nice wealthy family came to meet Zoey at our house, and drove off with her, hoping for the best. May god be with them.

We continued our search and contacted the owners of two dogs they needed to “rehome”: Roxy, who was described as lovable and gentle but not good with dominant dogs. And Kora, a 4 year old mini Aussie who was described as sweet and happy to lie around all day.

On a Saturday, we met Roxy in a park with her owners. They were a young couple who had raised Roxie and were now expecting a second child. They didn’t have the time to “give her the attention” she needed. They told us how she barked at animals on TV, including the Charmin cartoon bear! How adorable, we thought.

Tired of this yet? Me too! Roxy was great in the car. Back home, she humped us even more aggressively that Zoey. She jumped on us and vigorously humped our legs. She jumped on the couch and thrust her butt in my face. She became hysterical when a dog barked on TV, and clawed at the screen.

Nevertheless, we kept our appointment to meet Kora, the mini, which was love at first sight. I couldn’t believe she was real! I rubbed her tummy and marveled at her cuteness. She sat in my lap like a baby on the drive home. I was and still am ready to marry her.

Kora, my betrothed

But then. I walked with Kora into the kitchen to give her a dog treat. Roxy barrelled into the room, snatched away the treat and attacked Kora. The panicked squealing and angry growling was terrifying. I managed to separate them with my foot and checked to see if Kora was hurt.  She seemed okay but wouldn’t eat for the next day and a half.

Now our TV screen was ruined and we had to sleep with Kora in our bed to protect her. I texted Roxy’s owners after 2 days of this and said that “aggressive” wasn’t the same as “gentle.” The girl wrote, “Nonetheless, we have said our goodbye’s and are not taking her back.”

Now we are up to date. The two dogs are okay together but have to be fed in separate rooms and Kora can’t have any treats or toys. We are still sleeping with Kora and afraid to leave them alone together, so we can’t go out.

Roxy and Kora

We have contacted a million adoption places but no one will foster a dog who needs to be an only dog. Who can blame them? A lady who was excited to meet Roxy changed her mind when I informed her about Roxy’s “resource guarding.” I sought to rehome Roxy on a neighborhood Facebook page, where everyone scolded and lectured me for not “doing my research on Aussies” etc etc. Their grammar was terrible.

No one wants this fucking dog and neither do I. I have come to hate this poor innocent dog whose owner fucked her up by not socializing her early on. I can’t help it. I just hate her.

Walking Kora in the neighborhood yesterday, I stopped and chatted with a new neighbor. She weighs around 250 pounds, displayed in a tiny sundress despite her advanced age. She told me about her popularity with men, “because I’m sexy.”

Because I’m Sexy will haunt me forever. Who says stuff like that?? Because I’m a monster, I’m planning to take Roxy to an animal shelter, still wearing the original owner’s  dog-tags. Let them pick her up or explain that they’ve already said their goodbyes.

Posted in Disorders, grief, Rants | Tagged , , , | 9 Comments