Godammit, I’m Mad!

Somehow over time, I have managed to sign up for updates at fifty thousand shopping sites. It takes me hours to sift through this shit daily, but I don’t have the will power to un-register from any of these lists.

Today I looked at Ron Herman, a swanky hipster boutique in Los Angeles that carries all the usual designer jeans, ugly terrorist scarves and  cropped leather jackets. Ugh. I scrolled down dutifully and saw this new ring by Vivienne Westwood. $875, and kind of nothing looking.

But I said to my self, Self, I bet that ring is much cheaper in the UK. I went over here to Hervia.com and Bingo! $328, using the currency converter!

How much would you want to kill yourself if you’d bought this ring at Ron Herman?!

I am the savviest shopper you’ll ever meet. When I watch Dexter (a GREAT series on Showtime,) I find my self thinking, Oh look, she’s wearing a James Perse shirt that costs $145 unless you find one of those online coupons. I think about this really quickly but often end up having to ask my husband what just happened. He stops the show using our magic Tivo-like thingy, and angrily explains what’s going on.

Anyway, I am full of shopping knowledge that is mostly useless but occasionally comes in handy. I have a personal relationship with every one of the Shopbop models, and I know where you can get those ugly Rats by Sass and Bide in a new PVC-look fabric.

If only I can stick with my new conviction that ordering shit online will never, ever lead to fulfillment. I have a shoe store under my bed to prove it, and stacks of jeans that I barely recognize. We’ll see if I’m capable of learning anything.

If you didn’t listen to my latest radio appearance, then you won’t know that I ended up talking about the Mexican celebration known as Day of the Dead. Here is a beautiful photo of me and my niece with a Blue Demon Guy, who gave me a piece of candy.

* Stay tuned for the Crazy Mother Club, coming soon.

Long ago, in a galaxy known as Coggles.com, I was dazzled by a Vivienne Westwood tiara with little diamante devil horns. It was a replica of the one Viv wore to meet the Queen of England. It was way out of my price range, but I was brokenhearted when it disappeared from the website.

Now that I’ve decided to renounce internet shopping, I have come upon this tiara again.

Fuck. Is it a test of my character, by god or the devil? Is it a cosmic joke on me? Or is it simply a fucking bummer?

I want these devil horns. I need them. I could wear them with everything, or nothing. They were obviously meant just for me. They cost around $450.

I know in the rational part of my brain that they won’t bring happiness. They will just add to the crap-heap of my life, the tons of hoarded belongings that could have fed most of Sub-Saharan Africa if their cost was added up.

But the primitive credit-card wielding part of my brain that reacts wildly to sparkly things is going “Oooh, it’s too beautiful to pass up!”

Can anyone help put me out of my misery? I need to be convinced not to make this purchase. Or maybe the opposite.

*Don’t worry, PAP Smear members.  We wil reconvene tomorrow night. It’s getting uglier by the minute.

God bless a woman who doesn’t want Botox and speaks her mind. This is how to be 67, if you’re as cool as Vivienne Westwood. Of course, none of us are, but here’s what she says about Sex And The City:

“I thought Sex And The City was supposed to be about cutting-edge fashion and there was nothing remotely memorable or interesting about what I saw.

“I went to the premiere and left after ten minutes.”

I went to a dinner party and someone’s sister-in-law sat on my Vivienne Westwood handbag. I believe I have post traumatic stress disorder due to this event, and I’d like to sue her fat ass to kingdom come. There’s a photo of the bag somewhere here if you want to better understand the Horror.

Meanwhile, I’m resorting to my big Paul Smith bag from January 2007, and everyone will think I’m a dope who just jumped on the Yellow Bandwagon. Hmph, as if. I’ve even started wearing my yellow shoes just to show that I’m not afraid to match my accessories. Sister Wolf makes her own rules, Godammit.

Please take a moment to pray for my injured bag, may she fully recover her former glory, amen.

Doesn’t Dame Vivienne Westwood look fantastic here at age 65?  I didn’t know that she accepted another honour at Buckingham Palace without “wearing knickers!”

You can see a short interview with her here. It’s fun to hear her call people cunts, a term I use several times each day. If only I could walk in high heels. Maybe my new penis necklace will empower me somehow.

What a wonderful woman and role model!

Vivienne Westwood now offers you the Penis Drop Pendant, for only $138!  You could wear it with the Penis Cufflinks, if that’s not too much penis for you.