Godammit, I’m Mad!

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.

I loved this image when I saw it here, even before I realized that the rings were created by Cami and Nadia of Di$count. Check out their stunning photos here.  The design is limited to only 50 rings, and you can order one for $180.

Imagine the ring worn over a thin leather glove. Or with blood red nail polish. Or any other arrangement. Mmmm.

If you don’t live in Los Angeles, you may not be familiar with Fred Segal, a retail establishment frequented by pop stars and wealthy anorexics. Long ago, I realized that Fred Segal is in league with Satan. But yesterday, I forgot.

Feeling bored and oppressed by existential malaise, I went to Fred Segal to look at earrings. I have been fixated on the idea of gold safety pin earrings and I knew Fred Segal would have some. It’s a knowledge based on the type of people who shop there and a dark intuition fostered by Satan Himself.

So there I was, in the full glory of unemployment, when the salesgirl said, “Yes, we do have gold saftey pin earrings!” She produced five pairs of earrings, one covered in tiny emeralds.  I tried on one earring and thought, Okay, got to have them.

I handed my credit card to the salesgirl, my heart pounding with excitement and guilt. The voices in my head argued about the purchase, with the Addict Voice taking the lead. “So what if you can’t afford them, so what!”

The salesgirl was having trouble with her computer. It wouldn’t recognize my card or anything else. She apologized and decided to reboot the computer.

As I waited, I felt the sense of deranged lust for the earrings start to wane. I could already predict the remorse. Maybe I didn’t even need to buy them. I told the salesgirl while she struggled, “If this goes on much longer, I will take it as a message from god that I don’t need these earrings.” She laughed and said, “No, it’s just a message from this computer, don’t worry, I’ll get it to work.”

She called a supervisor who tried to give her directions over the phone. Now I was sure: I didn’t give a shit about the earrings! Life would go on without them. In fact, life would be much, much better without them!

I reached over and grabbed my credit card and said. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to go now. Too bad it didn’t work out.”

I marched out of there as fast as my wonky hip would allow, dizzy with the joy of missing a bullet. God was stronger than Satan and I owe Him one. If he would hide my fucking credit card, so much the better.

A few people have cited a certain blogger as someone who would annoy me, so tonight I checked her out. The thing that struck me most was her hideous collection of claw-themed jewelry.

Why the fucking claws?! (Somehow I feel this question woud sound more  beautiful and heartfelt in French but I don’t speak French. Can anyone help translate??)

Now that skull imagery is somewhat passe, the trend has moved to animal skulls. If I see another fucking brass bird-skull necklace, I’m going to strangle someone with it. Bird-skulls, huge claws, talons, just take them all away. Mom of Shoes has a monstrous claw pendent by the ubiquitous Pamela Love and so does every Clueless Goth Kid and tattooed fashion model a la Erin Wasson.

I was so annoyed by the claw-laden blogger that I went to etsy and typed “claw.” Try it! A huge volume of icky claw-things is available, many rivaling Mom’s $700 pendent in stark ugliness. I was particularly impressed by a store called Loved to Death, where I came across these “muskrat mandible” earrings.

And I realized that the blogger girl owns an identical pair!

What is the point in adorning yourself in stupid faux taxidermy? Why do so many people follow these trends? When can we go back to appreciating objects that are life-affirming rather than dead or faux-dead?

I feel like I’m probably the last person to discover Mouton Collet, but better late then never, in this case. Everyone loves antlers, so this furry hate is “right on trend.”  Mouton Collet designed a white antler hat for Lady Gaga but I personally don’t care about her wardrobe, her nose, or anything else. Let’s just ignore her for now.

These bracelets take spikes to a new level. I want them to be leather but I’m not sure what they’re made of.

These necklaces look like leather and goat hair. The collection is called Féroce and you can see more images here.

All in all, I’d say it reminds me of Natalia Brilli, but a little more Pagan Hipster™ and nutty. Mouton Collet also designed a collection of silver jewelry for men, and here is an image I find strangely appealing.

I’ve named this guy “My Houseboy.”

Sea has been busy busy busy.  Above, she models the first creation of a new jewelry and belt line that she and Mom are launching. Hopefully, there will be giant slugs and cockroaches too.

Secretly, Sea has been visiting the brothels of Bangkok, looking for Asian boys with prominent anuses. She has become a favorite with the locals, who scream and hold out their prosthetic legs, hoping she will reward them with a Miu Miu platform bootie or Givenchy ballet flat.

While Sea was off indulging her appetite for hipster porn, Mom discovered that after spending $25,000 at Barneys, she could pick up a Celine bag with her free points! You can see it over at her blog. Meanwhile, Mom plundered eBay for its most icky offerings, including this tragic ‘dragon sweater’:

The sweater will look cool with another of Mom’s recent eBay finds, a scary fish pendant:

Back at Mom’s blog, she shows off some other crap she “won” on eBay. She still can’t use the word “buy!” I love this stubbornness so much, it reminds me of myself and that’s what I look for in people.

Mom’s shopping has gotten so out of control, Sea has threatened to delete her blog. Mom begged Sea to reconsider, even promising to hand over all her curated knits from the 70’s, including every single Adolfo cardigan jacket rejected by Nancy Reagan.

Sea is planing to replace Karl Lagerfeld at Chanel, based on her work with crayons. Karl is upset, but you can’t fight progress. Yohji and Junya have gone into hiding.

Mom is hoping to work for Sea, without whom her life would be an endless quest for bad jewelry and letters to her ex-husband, begging for funds. Mom has been calling Carol, tattling on Sea’s naughty lesbian proclivities, hoping Carol can persuade Sea to make up with Akbar.

Carol is too busy to leave her studies but here’s what she wrote to Mom:

Dear Mom, I think you should let Jane be free to follow her dreams. You should find a way to fulfill yourself without exploiting Jane or Dad. I’ve learned here at school that there’s more to life than hoarding material goods. Love, Carol.

Do you have a comment for Jane? You can leave one here, thanks to my gracious gift of comment space for this purpose.

In keeping with the Plague Upon My House, I have now lost my watch. It is a small, delicate antique watch with a rose gold case and some tiny rubies. There are only three places that I keep that watch, and it isn’t in any of them.

I keep going back to each of the three places, obsessively looking for the watch that isn’t there. I feel a pervasive longing for the watch even though I didn’t wear it every day. I’ve tried calling out to it, like a mother calling her child in from outdoors, but it doesn’t appear. I would say I’m heartbroken, but I hate to sound materialistic. Let’s say I’m “annoyed.”

When I complained to my sister last night about the watch, I attributed it to the Ongoing Plague. She stunned me by suggesting a root cause: I don’t have a Mezuzah.

If you don’t know what a Mezuzah is, it’s a metal thing that observant Jews are supposed to put by their front door, I think to ward off bad luck. I really don’t want to know more than that, because that’s stupid enough. The very notion that somehow I could have prevented bad things from happening by performing some ritual is just infuriating.  It’s worse that The Secret! It’s superstition packaged in guilt. Maybe I’ve just stumbled upon a definition for religion; In any case, a god that would put a curse on me for not having a Mezuzah is just a total fucker who I want no part of.

Thinking about superstition, I asked my BFF if she would have any problem in reciting the words: “I will probably lose all my teeth and get pancreatic cancer in the next year.”  I think most people would hesitate, fearful of tempting fate through some system of cosmic wrath. She dazzled me by reciting the words in a strong, godless voice, and I fell in love with her for the millionth time.

But back to the watch. The missing watch will continue to bother me, probably for eternity, but it reminds me of my favorite line from Pulp Fiction, when Christopher Walkin tells the young Butch the story of his grandfather’s watch. It’s a long, sentimental story that takes a wild turn with the revelation:  “Five long years, he wore that watch up his ass.”

The word “wore” in that sentence is the difference between writing and poetry.  It’s the best choice of word, one that I could never come up with, one that gives me a fresh thrill of pleasure each time I think of it.

So the moral of this post is as follows:  Art is consolation in the face of chaos. (Wear that up your ass!)

I love Maurice Sendak just like all decent people, but I prefer his illustrations in “Mr. Rabbit and the Lovely Present” to “Where the Wild Things Are.”  The latter book is poised to be ruined forever by the movie version, and if that’s not enough there are the product tie-ins.

Look at this tragically idiotic “Max suit” by Opening Ceremony for $610. Naturally, it is sold out.  I thought we were well past Plushies and Furries but no, not yet. Why is this supposed to be cute? Why do grown ups have to co-opt a children’s book? Children need Mommies and Daddies, not ironic label whores dressed in bunny suits.

It annoys me to see the name Max debased like this. A Max should look more like this:

When my Max was born, the only Maxes around were old Jews. When Max was around 12 I think, Steven Spielberg named his kid Max and the scourge began. Still, the name cannot be ruined. It’s just too good.

Some other Wild Thing products include a couple of typically garish designs by jewelry designer Pamela Love.  Her claw necklace for Opening Ceremony is less ugly than her claw bracelets, but it still screams Ooh, Creepy Goth! which does nothing for me as a fashion statement.

If you like claws, you might appreciate my wacky vintage bracelet and earring set by Selro, a 50’s era brand that combined metal, plastic and rhinestones for its distinctive designs.

I have curated Quite the Collection of claw shit for years and years, but I am planning to sell most of it. I am much too busy having accidents and surgery to devote any time to a proper job. This Selro shit is in mint condition, $200 plus shipping. SOLD

It’s my birthday, hooray for me! I would like these 18K safety pin earrings, set with black diamonds.  And I feel that they are longing for me, all the way from Browns in London. Someone stupidly priced them at $3,000, so I’m going to be strong and live without them. For now.

Here’s what I want in lieu of the earrings. I’d like everyone to say stuff like “Happy birthday, you old bag!” and “Haha, you’re that much closer to being 60!”

I would also like someone to think of a new word I can use. I just got an email from Target, announcing a newsletter for “frugalistas.” God, no. Recessionista is bad enough.  What would be a good word for someone who complains about fashion? A Negativista?  I’m sure someone out there could do better.  I’m a little “on my meds” right now. Help a Sister out.

Wendy Brandes hosted a dinner in L.A. for her blogger friends, and she wore this ring, one of her more spectacular designs. She even let me try it on!

It was a lovely dinner and everyone had a great time.

Here’s the thing that surprised me most: She is not just pretty, but stunning. I nearly fell out of my chair when she arrived. She appears to be made of porcelain, or white marble. She is small but perfectly shaped. She looks brand new, like she just came out of the box. She is a sex kitten, frankly, despite her big brain.

I nearly molested her, but since we both agreed that we don’t believe in ‘bisexuals,’ I restrained myself.

If you have money and taste, buy youself a piece of  Wendy Brandes jewelery. And try to see her in person, if you have the chance.