Godammit, I’m Mad!

Here’s the situation:

Tonight, my ex-husband came over to visit and offered to wash a fluffy foot-thing. (Don’t ask, but the tag says it’s washable.) I offered to wash it but he insisted on doing it. He probably thought he’d do a better job. (Men.)

Then, he put it in the clothes dryer, which is in the garage, because that’s where we do the laundry. He came back inside for a while and then went out to check the dryer. He came in again to report that the dryer stopped working. It worked when he turned it on, but now it’s broken. Dead. Won’t go on again.

I said something like, Shit, you broke the dryer?! He said something like, No, I didn’t break it, it broke.

I said, Well, my husband will be heartbroken when he comes home from work at 2: A.M. and finds that the dryer is broken. (My husband has been graciously doing the laundry while I have the fucking walker and can’t carry anything.)

This is like an episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm, but without Larry David.

I told the ex to pay for a repairman. The ex was aghast, and furious. Because “he didn’t break it.” But it wasn’t broken before he used it. In my addled mind, HE SHOULD PAY FOR THE REPAIR. Not only that, we have no money. (I’m aware that this has no moral bearing on the issue, but still.)

Should the ex pay? Or not?

Fergie is rocking* some unfortunate new hair extensions, but that’s not the worst of it. In the March issue of Allure magazine, you can learn about the business of hair extensions, and you will never feel the same about them.

The Venkateshwara Temple, at Tirumala in the south Indian State of Andhra Pradesh, is thought to attract more pilgrims than Jerusalem, Rome or Mecca.

Over 18 million devotees visit every year to pay their respects to an incarnation of Vishnu; the God that Hindus believe protects and sustains all that is good in society.

Every day, 12,000 pilgrims have their heads shaved by barbers in two great halls of the temple, which is India’s richest. The offering of hair is a sacred act, a gift of thanks to the Lord.

The hair of Indian women and girls is said to be the most beautiful in the world, and it is collected at the temple to be sold to middlemen, who then sell it again to companies that distribute it throughout the world. It is dyed 56 different colors and then resold to companies that sell it to your hairdresser.

The notion of someone sacrificing her hair in an act of devotion, only to have it end up attached to Fergie’s head, is repellent and grotesque, isn’t it?

The only way to offset this moral blunder is to donate time or money to Locks of Love each time you get hair extensions.

If only all moral blunders could be solved so easily!

On the eve of Mother’s Day, I have just made the mistake of watching a new movie on Showtime called “An American Crime”. I feel emotionally battered and spiritually defiled, but perhaps I can spare someone else from making the same mistake.

The movie is based on a true story. In 1965, a mother of 7 in Indiana took in two young girls as boarders. One of the girls became the focus of the woman’s demented rage, and ended up being tortured to death.

This plot seems timely, given the news from Austria, but there is nothing to be gained from this film, in terms of understanding the forces that can pervert human behavior.

The worst thing is that according to the film and factual accounts of the crime, a group of children took part in torturing the girl. It became an after-school sport to visit the basement and abuse this helpless, broken teenager.

I want to know why ordinary children would do this. I want to know why a filmmaker would chronicle this abuse without offering any insight or consolation. I want to know what the actors were thinking when they took on this project. And I want to be warned before a film this thanklessly brutal appears in my living room.

I could have stopped watching, but I was desperate for catharsis. I felt certain that there would be a payoff of some kind. Silly me. The use of torture as entertainment has no obligation other than financial profit.

If you ever suspect a case of child abuse, don’t hesitate to report it. It won’t matter if you’re wrong, at least you’ll know you tried to help. Look out for each other. And beware of this fucking movie, no matter how much you like Ellen Page.