Monday, January 5, 2009

When the Dog Bites, When the Bee Stings, When I'm Feeling Sad

Anyone who asks my parents what I was like as a child will always, always, regardless of day, time, year, or mood of said parental unit, receive the same standard answer:

"Oh, she was such a good child. No trouble at all." Then the inevitable lowering of voice and shifting of eyes. "Unless you messed with her stuff."

To say I was a child possessed of a possessiveness towards my possessions is like saying the earth revolves around the sun instead of the other way around. In other words: DUH. Once, when I was six, my brother, in a fit of toddler pique (and just to piss me right the heck off), somehow managed to wrestle my beloved teddy bear from my Iron Grip of Death and mercilessly fling it into the fire where it immediately burned to an amorphous mass of singed synthetic wool that wafted what I am sure were dangerously toxic fumes out and into our lungs. But screw my lungs; my heart was broken into a million little pieces.

My father, witness to the whole unfortunate event, sprang into immediate action. Scooping me up in one of those safety holds that teachers use on kids who aren't quite right, he then yelled at my mother to quick! open my bedroom door! so he could prevent me from going flat out nuclear on my brother's ass. Reflexes like a cat, my father. Of course, he'd had plenty of practice. Just two months earlier, when my brother broke into my bedroom and cold as ice scalped one of my Barbies? I attempted to stab him in the head with my plastic Easy Bake Oven bread knife.

Don't worry. I am no longer violent. But I am still possessive. So much so, that I have a hard time letting go of most stuff that enters my household. Some people would call this neurotic. I call it prescient. As in, "This could be worth something some day and when it is and I sell it on eBay for a gazillion dollars and retire to my über cool villa on Capri complete with vintage Vespas and bronzed, non-gay pool boys toting margaritas and crap magazines, we'll see who's calling who neurotic."

In other words: You never know.

Still, one must always push one's limits, mustn't one? So, in response to Aunty's challenge to clean out our closets for the New Year, I hereby pledge myself to let go of the Iron Grip of Death when it comes to the following items:

1. These shoes/boots. What possessed me to buy those Nanook of the North jobbies off to the left, I'll never know. Maybe because they were on sale for a buck and some change. Sketchers usually are. But they're useless in the snow and nearly just as much as a fashion statement. So off they go.

Those black boots in the middle that show hardly any wear? A wee bit too tartish por Moi. These days, I'm all about the riding boot. And the Frye. Thanks to eBay, I scored myself a deeply discounted pair and have literally been sleeping in the things. So, I dunno, maybe one day I'll be back into sky-high dominatrix-style boots, but it won't be anytime soon. Unless I can find these deeply discounted on eBay.

While I love a Mary Jane as well, the toe on the pair above make me look like I'm twelve years old and I dropped the Kinderwhore look somewhere back in 1994 when I suddenly woke to the face slapping reality that I would not grow up to play drums for Hole after all. So why did I hang on to these? Who knows. Likewise the knotted lil' cork heeled wedges. They hurt my feet. Really.

2. I also need to seriously edit my jacket wardrobe. Yes, Party People, I'm admitting it to y'all here first: "Hello. My name is Moi. And I'm addicted to jackets." It's almost as bad as the shoes. And not just jackets, but all outerwear, including sweaters and athletic gear. Loves me a Horny Toad hoodie. But, alas, I'd like to get the 'drobe down to the following essentials:

Two winter blazers, one light colored wool, one tweed.
Two summer blazers, one linen, one cotton.
One leather jacket.
One all purpose black blazer, poly/blend, multi-season.
One boyfriend cardigan.
One shrunken cardigan.
Two regular cardigans.
One black evening jacket.
One black wool pea coat.
One . . . oh, hell. Never mind. If I can get rid of that weird ass turquoise wool wrap peeking out there at the far left, I'll be happy.

And maybe this.

I know, here come Wicked and Boxer and maybe Shamu and K9 to shriek in horror, but dang it, it was five buckaroos at a vintage shop, y'all (clicky on photo for full effect). It's from the seventies, and I heart it so because it looks most excellent with the Fryes and a turtleneck and some skinny jeans. Tres Get Christy Love, no?

Besides, those rabbits were long dead and gone before I got to this jacket. So, you decide. Should it stay or should it go?

More stuff that's gotta go to follow tomorrow . . .


Bretthead said...

Your brother was so evil!!

Okay, good job cleaning out your closet. Ten bucks says the next thing you do is go out shopping to fill in some of that empty space.

Keep the bugs bunny sweater. Give it to a girl friend for her birthday and try to keep a straight face while you pretend you are serious.

h said...

I've never seen anything quite like the rabbit sweater. And hope to never see anything like it again.

sparringK9 said...

GRRRRRHERHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! great funny LOL post. good job. "kinderwhore" grrrrrherhahahahahaha is there any look more tragic? for any age. we saw some out not too long ago and they were MY age. i was so depressed a had another margarita and paid the price the two following days.

that rabbit sweater reminds me of fur you find stuck to barbed wire. and ya just gather it all up and sort of form a vest like thing. hey, you gotta be skinny to carry off a puffy vesty thing.

those cork wedges are so so so very schleppy matron hag. no no no NOOOOOOO!

still have that easy bake oven knife? hideit now, before the NWO confiscates it.

loved. this. post.

im up -with just some studio junk. i'll address my clothes tonight.

sparringK9 said...

wow that was awkward - what a cool trick! i might try that as i have a friend who is having a birthday next week. grrrherhahaha

moi said...

WTWA: Sort of like the Sisterhood of the Traveling Rabbit Jacket?

Troll: Aw, come on. You don't think it sort of says, "standing on a street corner in a heart of gold kind of way"?

K9: And don't you just want to shred every freakin' baby doll dress in existence? NO ONE should wear baby doll. Not even Paris Hilton.

sparringK9 said...

yes, i do. its so flattering isnt it? a tent coming off your breasts? and it lasted like 3 seasons and its all that was available. racks and racks of baby doll. the poster rag for an infantile america. gaga goo goo.

VintagePurseGal said...

Thank you for the glimpse inside your closet! '70s wasn't my favorite clothing era, but I bet you look HOT in that sweater. I am probably at risk of having the PETA people knock on my door, but I love vintage furs, '40s and older. And muffs. Mostly because it's fun to say the word "muff."

Jenny said...

hee hee hee.

Moi's closet.

It's an honor.

Bunny killer.

moi said...

Wendy: The 70s were, well, majorly fashion felonious. But it was the decade in which I was a teenager (those who were right there with me: raise your hand if you went home during lunch in high school to re-curl your hair, Farrah-style), so I have a soft spot for much of that hideous fashion. I even have a vintage pair of Famolares. They are so my go-to summer sandals.

Boxer: I did not. Kill those. Bunnies :o)

Big Shamu said...

Actually I think I could use that on a secret project I'm working on...

sparringK9 said...

i smell a whales photochoppy! :-)

moi said...

Shamu: Ruh roh.

K9: I'm shaking in my space boots. Shamu da Queen o' da Photochoppy.

Big Shamu said...

Ruh RO is right! K9, the secret project is all hard copy stuff. YOU should be scared. Actually all you squirrel lovers should be very very scared. Maybe even a dog lover or two might get tagged.

My junk is up.

Bear said...

Actually, this post just might explain that big old singe scar I have up one side... do you think it possible that I was... nah... too much of a stretch.

Great post.

Pam said...

Evil brother! I'm still scared myself over my mom forcing me to THROW AWAY MY OWN TEDDY BEAR!!!! She had repaired him and repaired him, but STILL MADE ME THROW HIM AWAY! It was awful.

But that rabbit sweater? You might have got the one I gave to charity because I swear, I had one exactly like it.

fishy said...

I hate to say this in front of K9 but I might own a near relative to the cork wedgies. And....did your brother reach adulthood with possession of all his body parts?

Jenny said...

I neglected to give you the proper "high five" for nearly kicking your brother's Ass.

As for Shamu..... be afraid...... trust me. :-)

Aunty Belle said...

Choke! Sputter!LOL LOL

Yore bro ain't still cowerin' is he?

Sport them cork wedgies wif the rabbit
Vest an'it may shock the apocalypse
Into stupefaction long enough fer the rest of
Us to escape.

Meghan said...

Don't laugh, but... I freakin' LOVE those Nanook boots. I think I might even pay full price for those gorgeous, furry babies.

Jenny said...

my junk is up!

moi said...

Shamu: Don't count Moi among the squirrel lovers now, ya hear?

Bear: I've had a gazillion teddy bears since, but nothing compared to that first one. Sniffle.

Pamokc: Teenagers of the 70s, unite! You have STORIES to share!

Fishy: Just say no to the cork heel :o). Yes, in case y'all are wondering: my brother is alive and kicking.

Boxer: Unfortunately, I did not quite kick his ass in the way that would do him the most good.

Aunty: I'll fight the power in whatever way works. Unless it involves wearing Crocs.

Meghan: Dahlink, if your foot is in the 8-8.5 size range, they are YOURS. I'm serious. Lemmeno.

Big Shamu said...

I don't count you as a squirrel lover but you're getting tagged whether you want to or not. That's the beauty of the Secret Squirrel Project. Think of it as the Anti Publisher's Clearinghouse Sweepstakes.

Meghan said...

Okay... now that just makes it worse. I'm in the 6.5-7 range. And all my friends wear shoes in the 8-9 range. I'm the small-footed marmoset-handed midget of the lot.


Gnomeself Be True said...

First...I half expected to see something made of squirrel fur.
Secone...thank you for once again making me happy to be a man.

MommyHeadache said...

At least you're realistic, Courtney Love is still trying (and failing) to work the Kinderwhore look. Shouldn't she be wearing dresses at least past her punani these days?

Jenny said...

is our Gnomey a shoe guy?


moi said...

Shamu: I can't wait. I think.

Meghan: I'm the small-footed marmoset-handed midget of the lot. Bwhahahahahah! But, seriously. Shucks. I was hoping you'd fit them. They deserve a good home.

Gnome: I wouldn't be caught dead wearing squirrel fur. Not lux enough :o).

Emma: Yes. And if she doesn't leave her face alone, I will have to suggest a burka as well.

Boxer: No, I don't think he's a shoe man. I think he means he's glad he's not a woman so he doesn't have to deal with fashion at all.

Gnomeself Be True said...

Although I admit to an affinity for a well formed foot, ankle, and heck, everything north of that...I was saying I'm glad I don't deal with fashion.

Big Shamu said...

More junk up at the Squirrels, needs help.

czar said...

Great post. Would have loved to have seen your father in action. And your choice of the Easy Oven Bake Knife as a weapon? Pure genius.

The coat? Doesn't do much for me, but I figure if you can eat it, you might as well wear it. To everything there is a season.

I was also in high school in the 1970s, right in the belly of the Saturday Night Fever beast. Much of it was filmed in the neighborhood where I went to high school. Travolta worked in a hardware store in the movie? Belonged to the father of one of my classmates. The clothes were bad, but a lot of the music was worse. Polyester and leisure suits and lapels that were longer than some ties. I'll take rabbit. Maybe not possum. Those things are ugly and stupid. Not a good combination. But at least they don't have them in Brooklyn. Well, they have ugly and stupid in Brooklyn; just not whole species of 'em on four legs.

sparringK9 said...

i like possums. not to eat or wear -just to love and admire. they bad asses by the way.

czar said...

My worst encounter with a possum was the time one crawled up and died in a laundry basket in a room next to our carport. Yuck. I have, however, become rather fond of the skunk smell when driving down a freeway. Amazing what the mind can condition itself to.

moi said...

Possums rule.

the Dread Pirate Rackham said...

that rabbit sweater is SO late 70's early 80's...which means it's super in right now, I'm sad to say.

Clothes are cheap. If you love it, you can wear it. If you don't love it, it should not be in you closet.

I have spoken.