materialism is not everything, wanton luxury is.

Hurray! It’s my birthday soon!

My mom asked me what I wanted for my birthday and for the first time I was STUMPED,  blanked, nada.  I really had no idea.

Well there’s always things you WANT; you know, like checking off a couple of names on your hit list, a magic pass that allows you to bypass every line  so you never have to wait again, or a lifetime supply of sweet sweet mangoes.  But these things are not really things you can ask for; they come naturally, like once you’re filthy rich.

So i spent some time thinking materialistically about possible things I may want on this 23rd anniversary of my birth. It wasn’t easy but I thought of a few:

1. Fur; you can never have too much! I like being warm, and especially if that warmth is something also ridiculously soft and pimptastic.  This could come in the form of accessories or even a coat, extra points if it comes as a cape!

2. Diamonds, what the heck, just throwing that out there.  Nothing less than VVS1grade though, and preferably emerald-cut; but i’m not too picky.

3.  Shoes.  I already have way too many but this is one of those things where MORE is BETTER.  I’m thinking maybe some custom-made boots and monogrammed with a huge “J” on the side.

But knowing my parents,  i know what i’ll most likely get, forty bucks and a bowl of noodles.   At least that pays for a bottle of gin.

excuses, excuses

Okay, I know I’ve been coming up with a lot of excuses lately for being a crummy blogger. I was sick, the ants were sending hitmen after me, yada yada yada. Well, i’m just going to add to that list with a new one: i sprained my foot and ankle. I’d like to say it happened because i was doing something kind of awesome like an extreme sporting activity or like you know, fighting off a lion; but alas, it just happened because i fell down some stairs. Which happened to be in front of a bar, but it’s totally not what you think, i was neither drunk, nor was I in a bar-room brawl. I was, however, wearing 4-inch heels.

And i was thinking about it today and i realized this is not the first time i’ve suffered fashionable footware-related injuries. LIke 2 summers ago, I was wearing these really cute flip-flops that kind of hurt, but they were super cute so i was like well, i’ll suffer for the sake of cuteness, but then I got a foot infection from the cut that they gave me and landed myself in an Italian hospital where I did not understand a word anyone was saying and it was just like 15 minutes of the doctor grabbing my foot, pinching it and screaming at me in Italian.

So here i am again, suffering for the sake of fashion. Kind of like battered-wife syndrome, except with shoes. They hurt me but I keep going back and then making excuses for them, because well, they’re actually really nice shoes and they look really good…

Anyways, the doctor put me on crutches for a week, and at first i was like, oh, how novel. I feel just like Tiny Tim from A Christmas Carol, very beggarly chic. But then I actually started walking around in them and i’m like whoa, this is intense, these things make getting around harder than just walking on my swollen foot. I’m already at a physical disadvantage and yet, i need to have the apparent upper body strength of an olympiad just to haul myself 15 minutes around in them. I never thought i’d be happy to see a red light, but i seriously take every wait at a stop-light as a resting opportunity. Doesn’t that kind of defeat the purpose of helping the crippled? What about something more useful, like a manservant, or better yet, a litter carried by manservants. Hot manservants. That’s exactly what i need right now,  that and some peeled grapes.