If It Walks Like A Slut And It Quacks Like A Slut, It’s Melania!

melania slutty 1

Melania Trump is mad at The Daily Mail, Politico, and eight other news outlets for reporting that she once worked for an ‘escort agency.’

Her lawyer – the same one who represented Hulk Hogan in his lawsuit against Gawker media – has put these websites on notice that they will be sued unless they retract the unsubstantiated report.  Because it could harm her sterling reputation, for one thing. Here’s how he put it:

All such statements are 100% false, highly damaging to her reputation, and personally hurtful. She understands that news media have certain leeway in a presidential campaign, but outright lying about her in this way exceeds all bounds of appropriate news reporting and human decency.

I’d like to start off by asking if it’s okay to slut-shame Melania Trump. Is it okay? Because she’s pretty slutty.  And I don’t see why she should be or pretend to be ashamed.

She’s a slutty nude model from Slovenia who was willing to do what it takes to come to America and make money. Not every woman could succeed at this. Most can’t, in fact.

Melania nude by Alé de Basse­ville 1996 max magazine

Be proud, Melania!

She met The Donald at a party thrown by some guy who runs a modeling agency and enjoys entertaining big-shots who like sexy gold-diggers. All fine with me!

Unfortunately, Melania has lied about having a college degree and she lied about her immigration history and she lied about writing her own speech at the GOP convention.

And we’ve just learned that she lied under oath in legal proceedings related to some shady skin-cream she was selling.

So I’m going to say she’s a slut and a liar.

Why can’t a lying slut just go about her business strutting around in her Loubs, squinting and frowning and trying to become the First Lady?

Let her reappropriate and embrace the term ‘slut’ just like Amber Rose, who isn’t nearly as slutty as Melania, IMHO.

I hope her feelings aren’t too hurt. But I’m not convinced she’s a good arbiter of “human decency” because, you know, her husband.

Meanwhile, Mr. Trump has promised that Melania will hold a press conference to address the rumors surrounding her immigration.

Oh please, as if.

 

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Posted in News, Words | Tagged , , | 3 Comments

A Fucking Game-Changer!

game-changer

These jeans are so spectacularly awful and egregious that I consider them a true game-changer.

They raise the awfulness-bar to a level I don’t expect to see exceeded in my lifetime.

They are beyond idiotic, beyond revolting, and just stupefying in every respect.

Should I order them, take some photos, and send them back?? Before you answer, check out the rear view:

Denim R13 Sashah Jeans 2

Hahaha!  The designers at R13 are insane!

Here’s the Shopbop description.

An overlay with raw edges completely covers these destroyed R13 jeans, lending an avant-garde touch to the silhouette. 5-pocket styling. Single-button closure and zip fly.

An avant-garde touch, eh?

Imagine showing up anywhere in this atrocity. It might be worth the $795 just to see the fear in people’s eyes…and yet no.

Posted in Fashion | Tagged , , | 13 Comments

Weekend Hatefest

pant usage

I’ll start with the word ‘pant’ in the picture above.

Why can’t they use ‘pants’? The singular ‘pant’ is so grating, like ‘a red lip,’ which we all hate so robustly.

I’m really struggling with existence. I’m looking for relief and I’m turning to hate, as always. Please join me. In no particular order:

Seth Rogan
Donald Trump
friends of Seth Rogan
Taylor Swift
Ariana Grande
Pokemon Go
cancer
Hannity
Lena Dunham
cropped jeans
the word ‘cropped’
selfies
Game of Thrones
Kylie Jenner
the other Jenners
Tom Hiddleston
Ben Afleck
Rudy Giuliani
Vetements
those girls named Hailey
social media
Brad and Angie
TV commercials
Jezebel
Republicans
Star Wars
movies about comic book characters
my three half-sisters, all cunts
millennials
apps
NRA
Giselle and Tom Brady
Julian Assange

Okay, that’s just the tip of the iceberg, hatewise.

Let’s here what you’ve got.

 

Posted in Disorders, irritants, Words | Tagged , | 37 Comments

‘There Is Still A Role For Shame In Society.’

Shame - Max Klinger

I am quoting Stuart Stevens, a former top strategist for Mitt Romney who has been expressing alarm about Donald Trump for months.

Stevens was reacting to Trump’s attack on the Muslim American parents who spoke at the DNC about their son, who died serving in Iraq.

Khizr Khan, the grieving father, spoke emotionally about the loss of his son. Sane people everywhere were moved to tears by his words, which included a forceful admonishment for the rabidly anti-Muslim Trump:

You have sacrificed nothing and no one.

Donald can’t tolerate criticism, as we know. His deep narcissistic wound triggers a disproportionate burst of rage whenever he perceives a slight.

So Donald lashed out at Mr. Khan, and then attacked Khan’s wife Ghazala for her silence onstage.

Mrs. Khan is a grieving mother who still falls apart when she talks about her son.

She shouldn’t have to defend her silence, but she did, in an interview on MSNBC, explaining:

I was very nervous because I cannot see my son’s picture, and I cannot even come in the room where his pictures are. And that’s why. I saw the picture [behind] my back, I couldn’t take it and I controlled myself at that time.

Today, in response to chickenhawk Trump’s attack and his ludicrous list of his own ‘sacrifices,’ Mr. Khan said:

That is typical of a person without a soul, without empathy…

Exactly! Donald Trump is just a despicable piece of shit, his politics aside. He is an embarrassment to mankind, for fuck sake.

No one needs to confront him with the famous words addressed to Joseph McCarthy Have you no sense of decency, sir, at long last?” because the answer is so obviously “No.”

I think it is normal and rational to squirm in agony when you watch the clip below. But I also think we must bear witness to the horrible, indefensible immorality of the Republican party for running this cunt for President. Shame on them all.

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Posted in Horrible Stuff, News, Words | Tagged , , | 6 Comments

Thinking and Writing About Your Stuff

fire

The other day, I dutifully checked in on the Ex Wife’s literary efforts, not just because I’m nuts but because they are so breathtakingly stupid. I always come away feeling both gratified and enraged.

I can’t help it! She writes a monthly column for her community paper. If it wasn’t there, I wouldn’t need to read it. But it is there. Like Mount Everest.

So the column this month is about packing up when a fire forces you to evacuate. You don’t have much time and there is limited room in the car.

What stuff would you take if you only had a small suitcase?

The stuff she packed was nothing special: “the important papers, and the photos, my doll, the few pieces of good jewelry, family videos.”

I guess the doll is a little suspect and who still says “good jewelry” but let’s move on.

Safely back at home, she removes the precious things she had stuffed into a washer and dryer, and here’s where the fun begins.

My old volumes of Shakespeare, heavy and dark with wisdom,

A collection of glittered Advent calendars holding all the magic of the season,

The Happy Birthday banner handmade by my father,

A pink sequin dress, old family bible, my Beatle cards.

One shabby, brown flannel shirt, well worn and shared by everyone in the family.

Miranda’s report on Ground Squirrels, complete with illustrations.

An Anniversary card from a man who loves me still.

A popsicle stick-framed picture of a guru, the Batman book, Riley’s small handprint,

The copy of, “An Actor Prepares,” that Cindy gave me all those years ago,

A Smashing Pumpkins tee shirt, a stuffed pink pig named Peddly,

Mike’s old surf jacket.

And a faded needlepoint from my mother, reading,

“Dear House, You Are Really Very Small, Just Big Enough For Love, That’s All.”

Jesus Christ. I can’t even.

How does a person get to be so enchanted with their own self?

I believe this is the key to my fascination. It is unfathomable. And so awful.

I asked my sister what she’d pack if she was in a hurry to evacuate. Her answers were reassuringly normal. Photographs and family mementos.

My husband’s answer was thrillingly concise: Instead of a suitcase, he’s take a guitar case, and a guitar. I could not love him more for this.

Me, I’d take the photos and the things I sleep with. I’d throw all my jewelry into a pillowcase, and if there was time, I’d take my hard drive.

I couldn’t manage to be poetic and nostalgic about my itemized stuff.  And believe me, I tried, on the phone with my sister. I’m just not enough of an idiot, say what you will about me.

Now! What stuff would you take, and for extra points, try to emulate the Ex’s lovingly descriptive tone.

 

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Posted in Disorders, revenge, Words | Tagged , , | 38 Comments

Botanica: A Field Trip

botanica santeria2

Remember going on field trips when you were a kid? It was a chance to get out the classroom, and it would an adventure. Not always a good one, but a diversion from the routine of school.

Last week I found a Botanica just a few miles away, bit it was like entering another universe.

This was a real, authentic Botanica, not the one in Hollywood that sells candles to hispters. It was dark and dusty, crammed wall-to-wall with weird packets of herbs, oils, religious statues, Santeria supplies, trays of amulets and charms and some shit you didn’t even want to know what it was.

There was a girl behind the counter in full cola uniform and manner. She might have been Filipino, and she didn’t speak much Spanish. She had died blonde hair with long black roots, heavy winged eyeliner, and a tattoo in gang writing down in her cleavage,

Her name was Jenny, and she watched me ogle the stuff behind the counter. I told her I was looking for something to cure a friend’s illness, instead of admitting to being a nosy Jew on a cultural field trip.

She asked me if I believed in “that stuff” and I said “nah,” immediately outing myself by mistake.

We talked for a bit and she told me she had a month old baby. It turned out that her husband was in jail, BUT IT WASN’T HIS FAULT.

Of course it wasn’t his fault! I watch Lock-Up, I’m not an idiot!

She told me his story and I narrowed my eyes like Nancy Grace and asked: “Who threw the first punch?”

It was the Other Guy, not her husband! But somehow the other guy’s wife, a crazy bitch, told the cops that bla bla bla bla.

Poor Jenny! Only twenty-two.  She was watching the counter for her husband’s mother, who owns the shop and gives readings and ‘cleansings’ in a back room.

Jenny revealed that her baby was asleep in the back of the shop. She insisted on showing me the baby girl, who has some stupid name like Kaylee or something.

I cooed at the baby appreciatively. A fat little girl appeared and spoke to Jenny. She seemed to know her way around the store and might have been the innocent husband’s little sister.

The little girl fingered the tiny evil-eye bracelets and Hamsa charms in front of me. I told her that I love Hamsa’s, which actually isn’t true,  but I wanted to engage her in conversation.

“Good for you,” she answered coolly.

What a fat little bitch, I thought to myself.

I am thinking of going back to get the owner to give me a spiritual cleansing in the back room. I am completely serious.

Plus I want to hear more about Jenny and her predicament.

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Posted in Disorders, Religion | Tagged , , | 8 Comments

Learning to Shut Up

TORTUE-ET-DEUX-CANARDS

The other night, I was upset by something someone had dropped into a phone conversation, and for hours afterward I struggled with the impulse to demand an explanation or retraction.

By struggle, I mean I actually had to stop myself repeatedly from sending an email to outline my hurt feelings and question the person’s motives.  Why bring that thing up? Why are you being hostile? What was your goal in saying the mean thing?

I needed my husband to talk me down; I stopped feeling agitated and accepted that for the greater good I could just let it go.

For me, this is a real triumph. My whole life seems like a series of embattled relations with someone or other due to the fact that I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. I just remembered that my dad used to call me ‘bigmouth’ when he was mad.  He also called me ‘dummy’ but bigmouth felt like a worse insult.

When I was a kid, I loved my book of Aesop’s Fables. The illustrations were nice and the morals were easy to understand. But there was one story called ‘The Turtle Who Couldn’t stop Talking’ that I felt was directed at me personally:

There’s this really talkative turtle who wants to travel across the sea. He asks a pair of swans if they will carry him across by holding a stick in their beaks. He can just hang on by his teeth. The swans warn the turtle that if he opens his mouth, he will fall. Half way across the ocean, the turtle has a comment to make and can’t contain himself. He starts to speak and falls.

I guess the moral is Keep Your Mouth Shut. Who the fuck thought of that moral, Stalin?

In any case, my stubborn belief in freedom of expression has brought plenty of unhappiness but I persist in shooting my mouth off at the slightest impetus. I hate rules that threaten my so-called efforts at honesty and frankness.

Revealing myself is easy. It just comes naturally. Shutting up is hard.  But just shutting up on this one occasion has been so positive!

The power to shut up is worth developing. We’ll see if I can keep it up.

No You Shut Up- small

 

Posted in Disorders, Words | Tagged , , | 8 Comments

Big Black Boots

my-big-biker-boots22

Years ago, I posed in these big black boots, aware that they looked stupid with the dress but probably thinking I was cool anyway.

It was eight years ago and a whole other life.

The boots are in my closet, languishing with all the other shit I’ve wasted money on, always forgetting that I don’t like to get dressed up and I have nowhere to go. Each time I get out my credit card, I’m under a spell where I believe I’m someone else.

Anyway, I’m pretty sure I’ve worn the boots on two occasions. They cost around 950 bucks (I know!) so that’s $475 per use.

But wait.

Today, I clicked on the Maison Margiela Autumn 2016 collection and discovered that there’s hope for styling my boots after all.

John galliano for maison-margiela

I can wear them with a big upside-down orange coat-blanket thing, cinched at the waist with an uncomfortable belt! I even have the pasty white legs for this look.

Or, there’s this:

maison-margiela_boots

Okay, so a silver hooded cape (unless that’s a hat?) over a silver mini-dress  with a nice kangaroo pouch.

It’s good to switch things up, I’m always hearing. Why wear jeans and a t-shirt every day? I’m not getting any younger. Even if I’m just going out for coffee or groceries, there’s no reason not to throw on an upside-down coat and rock my huge boots.

Another idea is to forget about the boots and patiently wait to die so that some girl with size ten feet and an appreciation of offbeat overpriced crap can be the happiest person ever.

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Posted in Disorders, Fashion | Tagged , , , | 6 Comments

The Good Kind Of Mansplaining

good kind of mansplaining

You know how when you’re watching TV and you can’t quite recognize that actor who looks familiar, or you don’t understand what just happened, or a character mumbles something and you didn’t catch it?

So you ask you husband, “Who’s that guy again?” or “Why are they doing that?!” or “What did she say?”

And your husband gets mad because he’s trying to watch the fucking show and you keep interrupting? And instead of answering a simple plot question, he says “WHY DON”T YOU WATCH AND FIND OUT?”

It occurred to me that we need an app for this. If we had an app, we could get the answers to our questions without irritating our husbands and being subjected to their condescending sighs.

The app will be programmed with a database of every movie and tv series in existence and you will just type in the title. Then, you can get the cast, as well as plot points and dialogue, by scene.

Plus, you can do this silently or choose an audio answer in a friendly male voice.

HOW FUCKING HARD WOULD THIS BE, PROGRAMMERS?

Women I’ve talked to about this all share my shame and frustration at needing help just to watch TV, but that’s what it’s come to.

I hate mansplaining as much as the next person, more even, but where does the mansplaining impulse go when you actually need it, eh?

Let’s get the app. First, we need a name for it.

Thoughts?

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

When Your Kid Breaks Up With You

when-your-kid

So you’re going along being a mom, and you think it’s permanent, because, you know, but then all of a sudden he or she decides it’s over.

He or she refers to you as a “biological mother” and pretty much tells you to fuck off.

He or she is just not that into you.

Naturally, you didn’t see this coming and you start wondering what happened, what drove him or her away.

Were you too clingy or too distant, too needy or too demanding, did you complain about the messy bedroom too many times? What did the other moms know that you didn’t?

Were you not a good listener? Were you too involved or not involved enough, too protective or too negligent? When they got big and started to scream at you, was it wrong to scream back? When you patiently read to them or tucked them in bed or served them dinner, was it stupid to think it was part of a lifelong deal?

When you get dumped, you have to let go. Mommy up.

They once loved you but now it’s over. Don’t stalk them online, looking for news, because they’ll just block you until you get the message. Even on Instagram.

It’s hard! But there’s nothing you can do. Accept that you have no power. It was good while it lasted. It was fun nursing them, dressing them up in those cute little outfits, watching TV with them, wrapping their Christmas presents, taking them to see Patti Smith, visiting their college.

They never asked to be born, remember?

Just try to forget about him or her. There are plenty of other kids out there.

Posted in grief, love | Tagged , | 1 Comment