Archive for December, 2011

Is This a Tribute?

Thursday, December 29th, 2011

This typically ugly “hiker wedge bootie” by Jeffrey Campbell is called Dammit. I have to wonder if it’s their way of rewarding me for tirelessly spreading the joy of the Jeffrey Campbell aesthetic around the world.

However! If   this piece of shit is a tribute to Sister Wolf, I reject it, with all due appreciation.

They can do much, much better, as we know all too well. For example:

Dammit is right! It’s like they didn’t even try!



Monday, December 26th, 2011

The PERFECT monkey fur jacket.   Now all we need is a _________.

(, $2,195.00)

Yes, It’s Time for The Lesbian Stick!

Saturday, December 24th, 2011

Let us all follow the Christmas tradition* of reading  The Story of the Lesbian Stick.


* Heartfelt atheist blessings to all you people who come here and especially you special ones who have given me so much. xo

Gone From This World

Friday, December 23rd, 2011

Last night I discovered a girl named Chrissy who killed herself after several years of paralysis caused by a swimming pool accident.

I learned about her in a forum on the Christopher and Dana Reeve Foundation website. I came upon the website a few months ago, and struggled with the mystery of why some people want to go on living and some do not.

Chrissy was a beautiful girl who had  recently  fallen in love and was looking forward to everything. The story of her accident and its aftermath is horrifying but it happened and I had to read it. Horrible things happen but few things can be this horrible. Still, Chrissy endured for several years. In the end, she simply didn’t want to continue a life under the circumstances dictated by her condition.

On her blog, she explained:

A big part of me died back on June 5, 2005 and my life was never the same. Everything has felt empty, and bittersweet. Every memory tainted with sadness, over everything that I’ve lost, everything I miss doing, and everything I had planned to do, and hoped to be.

I  understand. Max  left  me a message saying something similar, even though his disabilities weren’t as extreme as Chrissy’s. For him, they were intolerable.   Going back to her blog just now, I couldn’t help but cry. What a brave girl she was. I salute her honesty and her incredible, heroic struggle.


Tonight, I learned about a photographer and writer, Edouard Levé, who shot himself a few days after completing a novel called Suicide. The novel is  fiction  but obviously reflects Levé’s preoccupation with suicide. Perhaps he he planned his death as an artistic statement. Or perhaps he lingered too long on the subject of death, turning it over in his mind until it seemed like the only rational conclusion to his obsessive and inward-looking existence. He was only 42 but seemed to have focused closely on life’s absurdity.   Here is what the narrator of Suicide says:

“You didn’t like the selfishness of your suicide. But, on balance, death’s reprieve won out over the painful agitation of life.”

It bothers me that Levé threw his life away even though he wasn’t paralyzed. It bothers me that I can’t understand why some people are resilient and some aren’t. It bothers me that you can’t leave this world without smashing everyone around you. It bothers me that no one has the power to decide which suicide is justified. It bothers me that I don’t know where Chrissy is, meaning I don’t know where Max is. It bothers me that I can’t forgive Levé for hanging himself because I can’t find the compassion for his obscure suffering.

It bothers me that I have to keep pondering death like a difficult math problem that might  yield  an answer if I stick with it. It beckons to me and repels me and it continues to break my broken heart.


Tuesday, December 20th, 2011

A company called SRANGEBEAUTIFUL has come up with some sets of nail polish designed to appeal to the Proustian-minded among us.

“….a range of 10 diaphanous veils of wildly haunting colors with inspiration ranging from the vampiric gradations of a healing bruise; the moody rusts of menstrual blood; sooty, phantasmal India ink; the profile of a gray blue Heron scooping fish against a background of gooey river runoff and the apocalyptic color palette of Medieval Flemish paintings. Visceral and private, each shade cloaks the finger in an aqueous film of color for an effect that is strange, beautiful, and impossible to forget.”

Hahahahaha! Isn’t that fantastic???? Other sets are avilable, each absurdly pretentious.

I like how this set includes the color “Menstrual Last Day.” Hopefully they have “First Day of Menstruation” in one of the other sets.

I love colors and the names for colors. I loved my box of crayola crayons as much for the names as the actual colors. When Max was little, we deferred to his acute appreciation of color by showing him something of indeterminate hue and asking him, “What do you call this color, Max?” He would take a moment to consider and say something like, “I call it tan.”

In the spirit of STRANGEBEAUTIFUL, I want to invent my own set of nail polish colors:

Still Spotting
Hep C
Virgin Birth
Mishima Cultist Coral
Clogged Drain
Hypothermia Blue

Have a look at the nail polish here.   $85 per set.

And contribute your own colors if you are so inclined!

Ickiest, Stupidest Ad Ever

Monday, December 19th, 2011

I came across this ad in Marie Claire a few days ago, and couldn’t believe it wasn’t a joke. “Masque” is a new product for women who would enjoy performing oral sex if only it tasted like chocolate or watermelon.

I think it’s a little strip that dissolves in your mouth like a breath-freshener thingie. The only time I tried one of those mouthwash strips,   I nearly choked to death, trying to spit it out.

Anyway, the ad’s tagline is beyond sickening: “Expect flowers tomorrow” it promises suggestively, showing a happy couple who have evidently managed the tricky completion of oral sex. Their expressions are ridiculous, much like the product itself.

Who are these fucking people who need to “Masque” the taste of sex and then expect flowers?!?

Ladies, if your man pulled out a “Masque” strip before doing his job, wouldn’t you just snarl, “Don’t bother?”   I guess men are  supposed  to be so desperate that they’d send flowers.

This ad and the mentality it reflects is pathetic and gross and makes me want to kill everyone involved.


Enjoy My Colon

Thursday, December 15th, 2011

Today I had the privilege of another colonoscopy. My mother had colon cancer, so this is her gift to me. I looked forward to the propofol, but little else. The fasting and the nauseating potion you have to drink are an ordeal, even for someone who is used to ordeals.

I felt strongly that I would have cancer. Then, as I waited for the lady with the propofol, I felt Max’s presense. I felt so sure I was going to join him, I figured I would die during the procedure.

The Doctor appeared and exclaimed at how pretty I looked. I told her that I wore lipstick* just for her. The next thing I knew, I heard her voice telling me: “It’s all over, your colon is beautiful!”

If I can’t just be dead, at least I know I have a beautiful colon. Feel free to admire it in the pictures   below!

* M.A.C. Russian Red

Can We Agree on This?

Sunday, December 11th, 2011

Even though it’s not important and it doesn’t matter, I still want to know about Angelina’s lips.   Everyone seems to accept that those lips are really real. “Just look at Shilo’s lips!”

As a teenager, above, her top lips was half the size of her bottom lip, which looks enormous.

Same here.

I showed these pictures to my husband, whose reaction was the exasperated retort: “How do I know, maybe some people’s lips get bigger when they get older!”

I love Angie for stealing Brad from Jen, and for flying around to refugee camps. But I think this is the answer to the startling impact of her face. It’s startling because she created at least two of her facial features.

Yes, no, or how dare I waste my time with such shallow concerns?

Underwear and Word Usage

Wednesday, December 7th, 2011

I just got this Hanky Panky Retro Thong in two colors, and I can’t overstate their perfection. They are the Holy Grail of underpants. Let me just quote Hanky Panky’s website:

A high-waisted panty with figure-flattering coverage everywhere you need it, and absolutely nowhere you don’t. This panty is designed with an extra-generous band of lace that hugs your midsection and tricks even thick tummies into feeling super svelte.

Every word is true! But not every word is good.

I can’t stand the word “panty.”   “Can’t stand” isn’t strong enough to describe my feelings about panty or “panties.” It almost makes me sick. I’ve felt like this for most of my adult life. Sometimes, I’ll be reading a magazine and the phrase “sans panties” will almost give me a stroke.

I asked my husband what he felt about “panties.” He isn’t nearly as reactive to words as I am, but he agrees on panties. He prefers “underpants,” which is my preference too. No wonder we stay together!

I think it’s the infantile connotation with “panty” that makes me cringe. There may be more at a deeper subconscious level.

I was pleased to find on a blog about language that lots of people hate “panties,” yet surprised to learn about a widespread aversion to the word “moist.” It cuts across both genders:   No one likes moist.

Generally speaking, I am more likely to take offense at a word or phrase than anyone I know. Max was a pretty hardcore wordist but not as bad as I am. Any yet, I have no trouble with “moist.” Am I broken or something? “Moist” reminds me of moist cake. or moist lipstick. Things should be moist, ideally, or else they’re too dry.

Going back to the blog just now, I see that someone hates the word “suckle.” Eoow.   Same here. It’s especially creepy when applied to humans.

Have a look at Language Log and get in on the word aversion.   I like that they make a point to distinguish between word rage (like when you hear someone on the news say “grow the economy”) and word aversion (like panty.)

Feel free to share your own personal aversions.

Douche or Dreamboat?

Tuesday, December 6th, 2011

Remember the last time we struggled with this?

On the one hand, this guy is dressed like a clown. On the other hand,   he projects intelligence, confidence and a rakish challenge.

Do you want to grab his jacket and run? Or would you rather go back to his studio and play with his hair?