Godammit, I’m Mad!

I have to admit that I’m giddy with relief.  My kid’s condition has gone from critical to stable. It’s a fucking miracle. It’s all I really care about, and yet….it’s still fun to rant, complain and make fun of people!

I knew it would make me feel better to check in with Sea of Money and Mom. But I had no idea of the folly that awaited me there.

Sea reveals that she’s been busy “working” with the rack of furs that Mom has been buying since the beginning of the year.  She notes of these furs that Mom “has…..curated quite the collection.”

People, does it get better than this?!?

Where I come from, this is called “hoarding” or even “stockpiling.” But now we are all curators!

I believe I have curated quite the collection of jeans, since I was unable to locate my Comfortable Jeans in a timely fashion when I was anxious to get back to the hospital one day last week. I flipped through piles of folded jeans, desperately tossing them aside, and finally giving up in frustration. It was a clumsy Aesop’s fable: The woman who was stymied by her greed for jeans. I ended up settling for the awful harem pants and spent the day looking like a crazy bag lady after adding my nephew’s long, patchwork cardigan.

While Sea and Mom spend their time plundering the world of its fur coats, one can’t help but wonder, What about Carol?

Carol, we are worried about you. Did they put you in the attic? Are you being held hostage under a tarp in the backyard? Did they send you to a Swiss boarding school or a musty convent?

You’re a person too, Carol, even if you can’t design shoes or curate hideous animal-shaped belt buckles! You matter. Let me know where you are and I’ll pick you up ASAP. You can come with me to the hospital, where nothing matters but life it self. In the end, the shoes won’t help at all. Maybe you already know that. I hope so! That would be epic.

Even in the midst of a crisis, I find I have not lost my ability to Hate! On a brief visit to my own home, I was privileged to catch a performance (on the David Letterman Show) by the stupidest, most awful band in the world. Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros left me with my mouth open in astonishment, after I finished calling them names out loud.

There’s a sickening douche as the front-man, with a creepy horrible girl adding vocals and dancing around like a crazed village idiot. There’s an asshole wearing a bow-tie with a pink shirt, and some other annoying band-members I can’t remember too clearly.

I double dare you to listen to the entire song. It followed me into my bedroom, where I could hear them bleating the stupid refrain over and over and over and over.

YES! I  hate, therefore I am.

Sister Wolf must attend to an urgent family matter. She hopes to be back before too long.

Godammit, I got an email update from Pixie Market and stupidly went to the website. A spell came over me, you know the one.  It sounds like this in your head: buy it! no don’t! in an endless loop.

My shoe sponsor is somewhere in London, leaving me untethered to reality.

I’m blaming this purchse on Jill, who is a cold-blooded enabler. Don’t turn to Jill when your habit is triggered. And don’t talk to me about those fucking buckles, either. It could be a lot worse.

Just to make you feel bad, here’s a pair you can’t have, by Junya Watanabe, 2006.

Or, you can go look at you-know-who’s “Shoe Picks for Fall 09.” The comment thread will put you off shoes forever! If only I’d seen that sooner!