Godammit, I’m Mad!

I was tagged by Rollergirl to post a picture of where I blog.

I don’t have a camera but my husband has one. I don’t know how to use it, because I am burdened with a Girlie Brain. I asked a close relative who will not be named to take a photo of my computer, but no.

I asked my BFF to take a photo, but she won’t send it to me.

I have given up and taken a picture with my cellphone. My computer is in a small cluttered room, facing a broken window we have mended with black tape. All the Saints working together could not change these circumstances. They taunt me as my frustration level mounts, causing stress hormones to bathe my system, furthering my chances of getting cancer of one or all of my favorite internal organs.

I turned to Patti Smith to deliver me from the ordeal of human existence. See her there on the monitor?

Let it be known that all those who refused to take a photo for me WILL NOT GET DINNER!

There.

*I now tag Juri, Nick, Queen Marie, Jill and Suebob. You guys are supposed to show us where you blog, link back to this post, and then tag 5 other bloggers. If you ignore this assignment, NO DINNER FOR YOU EITHER.

Here is the little gold wolf that Wendy Brandes made for me. I’m never taking him off, that’s how cute he is.  This is one of my pathetic cellphone pictures, so check out the detail here, in a photo from Wendy’s blog:

Her jewelry designs are often witty, and always stunning. The other great thing about Wendy? She can swear like a motherfucker!

Thanks, Wendy! xo

Whenever I need to learn something new, I turn to Susan. If it’s cool, she knows about it. She introduced me to photographer Jennifer Tzar, whose photos tend to have an air of otherworldy nostalgia. This girl with the purple hive is exactly who I want to be!

I now realize that I’ve snagged lots of pictures of Girls I Want To Be. Here’s another one.

She’s wearing a skirt I’ve seen on Amanda Palmer, and god know I’d like to be Amanda Palmer! This next one is in the same ballpark, but with Natalia Brilli accessories.

Now, this one is a little scary but she’s still a Girl I Want to Be (wearing accessories by Manuel Albarran.)

The saddest thing ever is that I’ve always wanted to be blond, even though my BFF’s wig proved beyond a doubt that god didn’t make me blond for a good reason:

Aaaaaah!  So, now the trick is to remember that I’m not 20.  Yesterday, while not considering this key fact, I flipped out over these blue sequin pants….but luckily I remembered this morning, when I saw them again for $100 less.  Be gone, sequin pants, and don’t slam the door on your way out!

At least I can sort of approximate Patti Smith in my Ann Demeulemeester jacket.

It’s good to be satisfied with who you are and what you look like, probably. But wouldn’t a purple beehive be fucking fantastic?!

You don’t need to spend $11,400 on that stupid Balmain military jacket!  Why not look stupid for only $39.99 in this fancy gold-trimmed Michael Jackson Costume?!

You’re welcome!

I didn’t actually cry, but I did get choked up. I watched it again, and then I watched it some more. I fucking love Susan Boyle.

What is it that has touched a nerve all over the world?

I know there’s a simple explanation, but I also think there’s much more going on.

First, there’s the fairy tale aspect. I was thinking Cinderella, but my son suggested The Ugly Ducking, and of course he is correct. But why so much weeping?

Are we crying with relief that for once there is justice, and virtue is rewarded?

Are we crying with self-pity? We all harbor a secret belief that we are special and one day the world will take note; It’s happened for Susan but not for us.

Are we crying because we feel sentimental when we root for the underdog?

Are we crying because of a universal longing for authenticity?

Are we crying because we are projecting a life of sacrifice and rejection onto Susan Boyle?

Or are we responding to the sheer passion and sweetness of her voice?

I only hope nothing happens to burst the bubble. Our love for Susan Boyle implies a collective humanity and desire for transcendence.  However, it must be noted that my husband’s response is essentially ‘big deal.’ When urged to elaborate, he said, “It’s Shrek.” ( If you need a cynic, you know where to find him!)

Thoughts, anyone?

Speaking at a Right to Life banquet on Thursday night, Mrs P said she was energized about a lot of topics, including why more people should refuse federal stimulus dollars as she did.

Palin said, “We have legislators all around the country who have resolved to kind of go around their governors, that’s happening in my state, and accept that money anyways.”

(I LOVE a woman who says “anyways,” don’t you?)

Before you pass judgment on the person who would spend $1,980 on a pair of sandals, let me explain:

These python Alaia sandals are actually designed for the fashion-savvy leper, who traditionally must carry a clapper and bell to warn of his/her approach.

Now, thanks to the genius of this sandal, festooned as it is with bells, every leper can jingle a merry tune at special events like mealtime and bandage changing.

“The denim company 7 For All Mankind is suing manufacturers who are knocking off their ass-embroidery branding….[they] filed a lawsuit against InDesign Apparel and Oleg Cassini for producing a line with back pockets that look exactly the same as their trademarked swoop and swirl.”

I didn’t even know how flattering this brand is until I asked my husband to take a photo of my ass.

I’m ready to testify for 7 jeans, should I be called upon to bring my ass as evidence.

~

p.s. Let us not forget there are idiots roaming the earth, and for them I suggest these limited edition Nudie Jeans for $699 at Tobi.com. Epic, right?

I used to enjoy attempting to diagram the brains of my friends and family. For example, my husband’s brain would be 50% blues, 40% jazz, and 10% Everything Else.

A few years ago, I made this representation of my own brain. Shopping was by far the largest portion, with revenge and guilt occupying second and third place. It’s interesting to find that one’s concerns actually DO change, over time. Today, I spend more time worrying about my teeth than plotting revenge.

Try diagramming your own brain; it’s fun and educational!  (If you’d like to commission a model of your brain like the one above, let me know. xo)

Once, Sister Wolf had a great job. She sat on her ass and wrote stuff and got paid a very nice salary.

Then, oh no, the fucking economy! Her job was cruelly taken away. Poor Sister Wolf!

Having no income can be a real bummer. While Sister Wolf scrambles to find gainful employment, she will be accepting patronage, as per that big black box on the right hand column.

Try to forgive Sister Wolf.  She means well, mostly. Non-patrons can just say a little prayer to Saint Cajetan, the patron saint of the unemployed.