Godammit, I’m Mad!

Gallery Girls is a great way to feel better abut yourself no matter how awful you are.

The latest reality ick-fest by Bravo TV, Gallery Girls follows the pointless lives of some tragically deluded young women seeking a place in the uppity world of New York art galleries. The word “art” is used very loosely here. One of the girls knows what “collage” means but that’s as far as their art knowledge goes.

The main thing is to hate the girls, and the main one to hate is Chantal. She is a truly horrible girl who needs to die ASAP. Presumably she has been told to play up her obnoxiousness but nothing could redeem her short of severing her vocal chords.

There seems to be a conflict between blonds and brunettes and lower Eastside versus upper Westside (or vice versa.) Since I don’t live in New York, I don’t know the significance of lower, upper, East or West. The blonds seem less pretentious, except for the one who always has to wear fur, even under a fur coat.

There’s an awful Asian girl who likes to pose nude and talk about her “pussy.” Her parents deserve our sympathy and a witness protection program.

The girls like to bitch about each other and they all talk like their mouths are full of marbles. Every statement is a question? Because that’s the kind of girls they are?

I went to the Bravo site to look for a picture and was directed to “like” the Gallery Girls on Facebook. The comments there are unanimously derisive, which makes me feel a glimmer of hope.

Let me put it this way: Gallery Girls comes close to giving red lipstick a bad name.  Please just take it away.

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

I was going to a wedding on Sunday, so my friend Andy insisted on  straightening  my hair for the occasion. It’s the first time I’ve ever had my hair flat-ironed.

It’s so silky and it looks so much longer! But I can’t afford to do this on a regular basis and I wonder why we all want the kind of hair we don’t have. It’s probably the same  reason  we all want a body shape that doesn’t come naturally either.

I’ve been going around feeling superior to everyone without long straight hair. Tomorrow after I wash it, I’ll turn back into a  pumpkin.

If anyone lives in L.A. and you want good hair, Let me know and I’ll hook you up with Andy, whose  Salon  is in Santa Monica.

As for the  wedding, It was the most glorious and romantic occasion you could ask for! The bride and groom are both in their forties and had nearly given up on finding someone to love. But when they   met, it was clear to all that they were soulmates at the deepest level. The bride was breathtaking in her satin gown and swirling veil and I did her red lipstick. Their love is like an orchid blooming in a wasteland. It proves that good things still happen.

I’m grateful for the miracle of love and flat-irons.

Remember the Benefit Incident, and the pathetic correspondence that ensued between me and Patricia, the company’s US Customer Care Manager?

Well, I wrote back to Patricia, turning on the ol’ Sister Wolf charm:

Good evening Patricia,

Your reply makes no sense. After patiently waiting for 8 days, I am dismayed by your inability to provide any response to my concerns. How can the regional manager help me by discussing anything with “the beauty adviser.”   Which beauty adviser are you referring to? I didn’t even identify the store where this happened!

Patricia, here is the plan. You will want to convey to me Benefit’s ACTUAL POLICY regarding its sales techniques and whether it is considered acceptable to physically accost a potential customer.

That way, my readers may be assured that it is safe to approach a Benefit cosmetics counter.

Finally, you may want to offer me some of your products, with an emphasis on red lipsticks, to compensate me for my considerable distress at the hands of your assaultive sales representative.

I am prepared to follow up with your superiors if necessary.

Sincerely disappointed,

XXXXXX Wolf

Patricia phoned me the very next morning. She explained that the Benefit sales associates are supposed to direct traffic to their counter, but not to slop the product on without asking. She assured me that they want the cosmetics shopping experience to be almost like a party. I made some idiotic and reckless analogy that I won’t repeat, and we said goodby after Patricia promised to pop some red lipstick in the mail for me.

Isn’t that nice?

The lipsticks have arrived: Flirt Alert, and Frenched. One is a clear soft red, and the other a deep cranberry color. I have judged them to be somehow inferior, so I want to pass them on to you, the faithful reader! I will even pay for shipping in the US. We can haggle over shipping if you live somewhere else.

To enter the contest to own these brand new, unused but   somehow inferior lipsticks, just explain in your comment why you want them.   The best explanation wins!

** For a look at the best customer complaint letter ever written in the history of the world, go here.

I went to Nordstrom with my sister and stopped in my tracks at the Estee Lauder display. A new lipstick promised to say on for 12 hours. I asked the nice Black sales lady to show me the reddest red in the new formula. She admired the red I was already wearing. I told her it was Ruby Woo, one of my all-time favorites. I added, “I think every woman should wear red lipstick!” She nodded sagely and said with great conviction: “Mens like the red.”

So true.

I didn’t like the lipstick but I got the Double-Wear lip Pencil with “12 hour staying power” after testing it on my wrist and finding it impossible to remove.

How timely! Here, you can watch Viv urge people to make clothes out of tablecloths if they find a nice one. How lovely to hear the ultimate arbiter of great style chime in on our tablecloth plans for fall/winter!   It’s always good to know Vivienne Westwood approves, isn’t it?

Also, note the deep red lipstick. Beautiful! Try NARS Velvet-Matte lip pencil in Dragon Girl or Cruella. If you have any red lipstick suggestions, please share with the class.

So Susan Boyle has not only groomed her eyebrows, but get this: SHE BOUGHT A NEW LIPSTICK!

I’m trying not to read any more stories or opinions about Susan Boyle, but I slipped up today. The Daily Mail is making a big deal about the lipstick, but I didn’t sense any criticism.   Other recent reports have seemed deeply resentful of Susan’s steps toward a mainstream look.

How dare she become self-conscious all of a sudden?!   We’ve been baited and switched! We were promised a geeky old spinster, like Bette Davis in “Now Voyager,” but instead we’ve got a woman wearing lipstick who looks ALMOST NORMAL! I think this is the essence of what is supposed to be The Susan Boyle Backlash.

Here is the unearthed tape of Susan Boyle auditioning for a TV show 15 years ago. This may add to the backlash, because it proves that she didn’t just crawl out of a hole at 48 and decide to sing. She’s always wanted to sing, and has made several attempts to have a career at it.   In this audition, she manages to play along as some fucking cunt  clowns around, apparently ridiculing her performance.

I haven’t stopped loving her, and I’m happy if she’s happy with her new look. What I see in her also is a person who has been to some degree “off” her whole life: Slightly weird, slightly different. It’s obvious, right? Maybe she’s even a bit autistic. I know she left school early because of “learning difficulties.” It’s a quality that I’m always drawn to.

I hope she has enough support to cope with the attention, judgements, and the inevitable fall from grace when the public and the media grow tired of her and move on.

If I were on the Titanic (and all the news hints that I am, along with the rest of you) I would be the one running to put on more red lipstick.

Therefore, I have purchased this new lipstick by MAC, from its new Dame Edna line. First of all, the packaging is glittery and awesome, Then, the lipstick case itself is adorable. Much prettier than in this picture.

I chose “Kanga Rouge,” a creamy blue red. I prefer a matte lipstick, but what the hell. Who am I to say no to this one, especially as it’s less greasy than most non-mattes.

I recently learned that Dame Edna is married to my ex-husband’s cousin Lizzie, which further proves that Sister Wolf is always three degrees or less from everybody, including the Queen of England and the previous Pope.

On a sadder note, I was stupid enough to buy a new matte lipstick by Revlon (eeoow!) which looked beautiful on the display thingy at CVS, but turned out to be a HORRIBLE brick red that looks like rust. It’s called “In the Red” but a better name would be “In the Waste-basket.”

When was the last time you heard the word ‘pig’ so often? When you grabbed a bay’s toes and went “This little piggie went to market…?” Or when you saw the movie “Babe?”

Recently, I was blessed with a huge squishy pig that my BFF got me for my birthday, from Squishable.com.

I love this huge piggie! Piggies are so wonderful, why must piggies be maligned by Grandpa, whose own former press secretary wrote a book called “Lipstick on a Pig?!”

Pigs are certainly nicer than rats. But for some reason I was suckered into buying some legging things called “Black Rats” by Sass and Bide, who may have been inspired by another Aussie company, Ksubi, who made news by releasing hundreds of black rats down the aisle during their first runway show in 2001.

I honestly don’t know what made me buy these things, because they are ruched from waist to toe, and will thus make me look like a fat….well, something fat. You may be wondering why I keep buying things I’ll never wear, and I can only say that shopping is about Owning and Collecting, as Vogue magazine used to explain in the 60s.

Funnily enough, I also Own and Collect red lipstick, which is My Signature.

I was thinking of posting a photo of me wearing the Black Rats, a lot of lipstick, and holding my piggie, but that would involve too much effort. Just picture it in your mind’s eye. Then, picture Grandpa turning to Mrs. P and saying proudly, “That’ll do, Pig.”

A friend gave me a heads-up to watch a documentary on BBC America called “Love Me, Love My Doll.” It focuses on some men who have ‘fallen in love’ with their life-sized dolls.   Let me say, this is nothing like “Lars and the Real Girl,” which has been ruined for me now.

After watching the documentary, I googled it. All I could find were other people who had watched it on TV and were somewhere on the spectrum between creeped-out and traumatized.

Watching it in our separate houses, my friend and I texted frantic messages back and forth, like “Oh god!” and “There is no hope.” One of the guys was really scary, because he owned some impressive firearms. If you’re reading this, scary firearms guy, we were only scared because you are so fucking AWESOME!

The men do seem to ‘love’ their dolls, who have names and personalities. The personalities are kind of compliant, if you know what I mean.

The documentary includes a visit to the factory where the dolls are made, and sold for $8,000 to $10,000. You can choose from several styles of pubic hair, and each doll comes with a “douche ball” for easy cleansing.

Had enough? Sorry.   If you want to know more, here is an essay about it at Salon.com.

On a lighter note, but also tragic in its own way, in a scene where a guy applies lipstick to his beloved doll before sending her off to be repaired, I actually recognized the lipstick!!!!   It was “Tabloid” by Prescriptives, a nice deep blue-red that has been discontinued.