He thought I’d make fun of this “sock boot” by combining a lace-up shoe with a folded-over top and a knee high boot. And he was so desperate to get a reaction from me that he even added a silver metal toe thing.
No dice, Alex. I’m not taking the bait. You’ll have to get someone else this time. ($925 at Shopbop)
I’m obsessed with jewelry made from things that shouldn’t be jewelry, like this amazing piece I found at that pawn shop where they keep the Gimp in the back room. The people there were SO cute and nice and really authentic like folk art! Isn’t it Gorgeous? Look at the detail!
Plus they’re not meanies like those psychos at Tetanus Jewelry, who sent me so many nasty and abusive comments last week and won’t allow even ONE negative comment on their own blog. Not even the words “Hahaha!” God, people are disappointing sometimes, aren’t they?!
In other exciting jewelry news, I took out my nose stud and put in a little ring or hoop or whatever it’s called. It looks a little stupid but change is supposed to be good, even though I’ve never believed this and still don’t.
If you haven’t heard this recording of Dr. Laura yelling “Nigger nigger nigger!” to a caller who asked for advice on dealing with racism, turn up your speakers.
This bitch is clearly out of her fucking mind and needs to be fired. There is no excuse for her, unless she can prove she was off her medication. Her “apology” the next day is fatuous posturing.
Please join me in bestowing upon dumb bitch Dr. Laura Schlessinger her richly deserved Cunt of the Week™ award!
Today is my mom’s birthday and I’m burning a candle for her.
Ever since she died nine years ago, I’ve had a much better relationship with her. I read somewhere that the relationship you have with your mom is in your head, not in any temporal or objective reality. So now that she’s gone, I finally feel loved by her. I feel tenderness toward her, instead of fear or anger. I forgive her.
When my mom was diagnosed with cancer, she was told she had six months to live. My sister and I got hospice care for her, because she wanted to die in her own bed.
A couple of times, she asked me to help kill her. Each time, I explained that I just couldn’t consider it. I did what I could to provide comfort. My sister and I often spent the night with her, and we tried to conceal our anxiety and grief. She declined over the six months, becoming delusional at times and suspecting us of hiring fake rabbis or switching her drinking glass. Near the end, I chewed up food for her and fed it to her like a baby bird.
Finally, the last morning arrived and her beautiful Jamaican nurse called us to hurry over to say goodbye. Her death throes were terrifying and unbearable to watch, but we had to bear it. My sister and I each held one of her hands as she died. The nurse recited the Lord’s Prayer. My sister sobbed hysterically throughout.
Afterwards, we sat in my mom’s bedroom, paralyzed with shock. Other family members arrived. I turned around in my chair and opened a drawer, not really thinking about what I was doing. In the drawer was her will, and nothing else.
I picked up the will and read the first line aloud. “I, _________, being of sound mind, hereby exclude my two daughters from this will. I do so deliberately, and should they contest it, they will receive not more than one dollar each.”
Mom, you were a funny one. Happy birthday.
What’s wrong with this picture?
Nothing, until you find out it’s a one-piece “romper.”
Isn’t that just inexplicably horrible?!
I’m not sure why it’s so horrible, but the first thing that comes to mind for some reason is the problem of getting undressed with a lover. The shock, the confusion….IT’S ONE PIECE! Eooowwwww.
And you can’t even pull up the saggy jeans with a belt. It just creeps me out.
If you’re creeped out too, can you explain why?
The commuinques above are from the esteemed owner of Dolly Python, a shop in Dallas, using a nom de guerre.
~
This one below is from the classy socialite and fashion maven Judy Aldridge (regarding Anna Wintour):
What do they have in common? I see a disturbing preoccupation with menstruation.
I remember being around 10 years old and having to see a film in school about menstruation. I recall feeling intense embarrassment and general discomfort.
But then I got a little older and had my first period. My sister showed me what to do. It was kind of upsetting. She forgot to tell me that you had to keep changing your pads. But soon enough, I learned that menstruation is just a part of life. I never used cute little euphemisms like “My friend is in town” or however that one goes. I never called it “the curse.” I would say, “I have my period, do you have an extra tampax?” or something like that.
Once, after a night out and being a little tipsy, I couldn’t find my tampax! I tried and tried but the more anxious I became, the more impossible it was to do it. Finally, I went to get my date (now my husband) who was waiting in the bedroom.
Now, for you gals in Texas, it’s time to leave. You’re never going to be able to handle this. Scram! Shoo!
Okay, so then, my gracious date told me to lay down and relax. He would find it for me. I will never forget how gentle he was. Gentle, confident, and manly. Manly enough to remove the tampax and go throw it away like a gentleman. I felt my heart go CLUNK. This was a man in a million. I fell in love right there, right then. Nineteen years later, he is still the only man whose hands I want on me. Except for Johnny Depp, of course.
I always loved having my period. It’s messy but sensual. It reminds you that you are a woman. It reminds you of the cycles of nature, the moon and the tides.
Where does the fear and loathing come from, ladies of Texas??
If you would like to share your memories or point of view and you can do so without being a slobbering lunatic, jump in.
“Stupidity is the devil. Look in the eye of a chicken and you’ll know. It’s the most horrifying, cannibalistic, and nightmarish creature in this world.” ~Werner Herzog
Many years ago, I was sitting in my car, waiting to make a right turn. A disheveled man on a bicycle came toward me, and I could see in the distance that he was yelling. As he rode past my car, I saw that he was literally foaming at the mouth. “I hate niggers!” he screamed, spitting some foam.
I have never forgotten this incident. The image is embedded in my brain. It’s hard to describe how it made me feel. It shook me to the core. It was an encounter with fierce, virulent stupidity. It was like staring into the eye of a murderous chicken.
Yesterday, I was confronted again by that chicken, and it was horrifying. I thought we all agreed on basic laws of human decency. How could I forget that frothing bigot?
I don’t believe in censorship but I am against “hate speech.” I love a rousing debate or an exchange of ideas, but I’m not a martyr. I don’t mind insults, even nasty ones, but I’m not here to soak up the free-floating rage of the mentally unhinged. Who would ever think that mocking a spoiled rich kid would invoke an avalanche of crazed taunts about my worthlessness as a human being?
This reign of terror was launched on facebook by a self-avowed friend of the Aldridge women. This friend can’t stop firing off comments along the lines of “You have sand in your cunt LOL LOL, come shop at my store any time!” Today, she’s still at it. Karen Aldridge has been firing off her own brand of histrionic garbage.
I admit that these women scare me. I haven’t been exposed to this level of vindictiveness or indecency. It reminds me of prison stories where the inmates are reduced to throwing their own feces to express themselves. It’s not okay. I would like the good citizens of Texas to get back to whatever they were doing, and to let the Aldridge women fight their own war of words with me.
I did say that Jane’s face is fat. However, it does not rate as an attack worthy of the ones I received last night, to the tune of: “I sucked your son’s cock in hell!” and “I’m glad your kid died.”
Stupidity is a funny thing. At one level, it can be amusing. Max loved to watch Sean Hannity on Fox News during the last presidential election. He chuckled each time Hannity pretended to be making a point. Personally, I love the New York Housewives for good basic stupidity.
But the stupidity of these pro-Aldridge people is another matter. It is the devil. And I’m not letting the devil have his say here. I will publish any and all comments that respect my right not to be taunted about my private parts or the loss of my precious child.
That shouldn’t be too hard, right, chickens? For those people complaining that it used to be more fun here, I can only say, No shit, Sherlock. But we’ll still have fun again. I will, anyway.
Ooooooooooh!
This lipstick is the business. That kid knows his red, doesn’t he??
Ahem. Let the meeting come to order!
First of all, in response to all the nice people who are concerned about my age, my shriveled anus, and so on, I would like to make it clear that I will be fifty seven this month and I fucking rule. See me arm wrestling above, at a family gathering a couple of weeks ago.
Face it! I just rule. It’s not my fault that I didn’t over-pluck my eyebrows, I didn’t like staying out in the sun, I didn’t fuck up my hair and I was just lucky that way. This rampant ageism among the nice people who have recently come aboard is very sad. They are terrified of aging but that’s not my fault either. In any case, that particular weapon is useless here. Thanks anyway!
Second: An excitable woman in Texas has taken it upon herself to rally her Good Ol Gals on facebook to come here and cause mischief. The woman is a pal of Sea and Mom. Here is her best comment thus far:
Now we know more than we wanted to know about Sea’s appraisal of me. She is welcome to perseverate on female genitalia, as she does on her “other” blog. Just not mine.
As it turns out, poor Mom is also preoccupied with me as evidenced by a histrionic screed that she left as a comment, using a proxy server. Her comment was particular shocking, coming from a mother, but obviously our ideas of morality are very different. At least she got Sea to delete this “thought:”
Grief, shoes, it’s all the same to some people. Scary but true.
~
Now, here is my thinking. I have been committed to a blog that is free of censorship. But this orchestrated attempt to waste my time is annoying my real readers. So, how about one of these strategies:
1. When some lunatic leaves a comment that slanders me ( in the true sense of slander) we shall respond to them with the word “WHORE!” For example, “Dumbbell” writes “LOL sister wolf, your an old old old anus with no sole” the response from faithful readers shall be “WHORE!”
or
2. I will just allow the first two lines of every slanderous comment and delete the rest. That way, “Judy under a fake name” can write: “sister wolf you make me sick, bile vitriol, venom, old old old empty lonely bad mother crazy as a loon and even reading my freaking ebay curations and you make me so sick and you hate on and your just so old and why don’t you get a life you horrible old thing and bab bad mother who doesnt know how to grieve like we do in Texas you old old older-than-me narcissist narcissist bla bla bla bla” but it will be shortened to “sister wolf you make me sick, bile vitriol, venom, old old old empty”
Well, these are my ideas for now.
