Category Archives: Conspicuous consumption

You See, I DO Appreciate Art and Shit! ðŸ’©

With an artist brother and a sister-in-law, you’d think I’d be more involved in the art world. Sadly, I’m not.

I used to be more of a gallery girl, loved nothing more than spending time in any one of the wonderful museums and galleries near where I lived or worked.  And the galleries I got to visit while living in or traveling to Europe could fill a book.  Still, going to a museum with either Fred or my sister-in-law, with someone who knows a lot about art, well, it is a wonderful treat.

But with my Crohn’s disease as active as it is these days, I don’t go very often.

For anybody without access to art, though, I recommend following my blogging buddy Mark, of Exile on Pain Street .  He works in NYC and frequents museums, galleries and auctions and frequently writes about it on his blog.  Mark does it with wit and without the snobbishness that usually accompanies folks who talk about art.

But nobody posts about art quite like I do.  Or about art theft, because that’s really what this post is all about.  Art theft pure and simple.

How-to-Steal-a-Million-5

Audrey Hepburn and Peter O’Toole in How to Steal A Million (Google Image)

The international art heist I’m talking about occurred in Spain, just outside Madrid.  I’m pretty sure it involved neither Audrey nor Peter.  Nor, probably, would the stolen object ever find its way into the Louvre.

Still, if you know anything about art, the beauty of an object is all in the eye of the beholder.  It may also be dependent on the species.  Or on the leash holder.

Torrelodones, a town near Madrid, paid 2,400 euros ($2,726; £1,885) for this sculpture:

Spanish Dog poop sculpture

Yes, it is a giant, inflatable pile of dog poo.  Photo from BBC (although they might deny it)

The article I read says:

The three-metre high inflatable bought as part of a campaign to encourage pet-lovers to pick up after their dogs went missing, El Pais newspaper reports. The bizarre inflatable disappeared after it had been packed away in its carry-case and the police are now on the trail of the 30 kilogramme dog poop, town officials say.

Speaking to the ABC newspaper, town councillor Angel Guirao said staff were shocked and perplexed by the theft, and a replacement excrement was already on order because “we know that the campaign has been a great success”.

I wish they’d asked me.  I could have provided plenty of models for this piece of art.

Why are you picking on me.png

Why are you picking on me.  Google, eat your heart out cause I took this one!

Don’t hesitate to ask me anything about art.  Or poop.

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Filed under Bat-shit crazy, Being an asshole, Conspicuous consumption, Crohn's Disease, Curses!, Dogs, Duncan, Huh?, Humor, Not something you hear about every day, Oh shit, Peter O'Toole, Political Corruption, Poop, Seriously funny, Seriously weird, Shit, Shit happens, Size Matters, Stealing, Stupid things happen in other countries too! Who knew!, Stupidity, Useful thing to do with poop, What a Maroon, Wild Beasts, WTF?

I Found My Donor!

Well, it’s been a while since I discussed the topic that is near and dear to my, ummm, heart.

Poop transplants!  — The ultimate solution to my Crohn’s disease woes.

OK, it’s nearer to my hiney, but you can’t claim you weren’t expecting that.

Earlier today I was discussing my future poop transplant with my boss.  (It’s true, I have no pride what so ever.)  She’s very interested in the idea.  She wants me healthy, of course, but really, I think she wants to see what happens from a scientific perspective.  And, frankly, I can’t blame her.  I want to know what’ll happen from a scientific point of view, too.  And from the perspective of a toilet paper consumer.

You may recall that  I’ve mentioned that you have to be very choosy when choosing a poop donor.  If the donor is fat, or depressed, or psychotic, well, the recipient can become fat, or depressed or psychotic.  I haven’t researched what happens if you choose someone immature, though.  Perhaps I should.

Anyway, the issue was on my mind tonight when I began reading the news. And I found my donor!

He is young and healthy, albeit a little younger than I was thinking of;  he’s living in Florida with his mother.  In fact, it was his mom who brought him to my attention.  Well, and to the attention of people with a deep seated interest in poop.

One day Katy Vasquez discovered that the Lord moves in mysterious ways.  And goes into mysterious places.  Because, You see, one day when she was changing his diaper, she saw this sign that things were going to get better.:

Halla-Poo-Yah

This picture was taken by my donor’s mom, Katy Vasques, and posted to Facebook and the Huffington Post (where I saw it).

It’s Holy Shit!  What more could I ask for from a donor?

HALLA-POO-YAH!

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Filed under 'Merica, ; Don't Make Me Feel Perky Tonigh, Advice from an Expert Patient, All The News You Need, Bat-shit crazy, Beating that Dead Horse, Being an asshole, Childhood Traumas, Chronic Disease, Conspicuous consumption, Crazy family members, Crohn's Disease, Disgustology, Dreams, Family, Gross, Health, Health and Medicine, Hey Doc?, Huh?, Humor, I Can't Get No, keys to success, laughter, Mental Health, Oh shit, Out Damn Spot!, Poop, Poop transplants, Science, Seriously funny, Seriously weird, Shit, Shit happens, Taking Care of Each Other, Useful thing to do with poop, Why the hell do I tell you these stories?, Wild Beasts, WTF?

Why Didn’t I Think Of That?

Do you ever feel that the stars are lined up against you?  That you can’t win in your own life?  That God has it in for you?

I have to say, that I have felt that way on more than one occasion.  On more than one occasion a day on bad days.

God strikes

I often feel like I’m between a rock and an electric place

Photo Credit:  comandoxtreme.xtgem.com

Some days I know that God is out to get me.  But I never really thought there was anything I could do about it.  I mean, I’m me, and God, well, God is God.  He rules.

Right?

Well maybe not.  Because you see, an Israeli man has filed a restraining order against God.  True story!  Because sometimes, God is abusive.  And if God can’t be nice, He needs to keep His distance.  At least 300 feet away — that’s the usual distance abusive men must respect.

Restraining order

Photo Caption:  Huffington Post

Sigh. I’m going straight to hell for this one.

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Filed under ; Don't Make Me Feel Perky Tonigh, Abortion, Adult Traumas, Advice from an Expert Patient, Blasphemy, Conspicuous consumption, Criminal Activity, Curses!, Disgustology, Health, Health and Medicine, Huh?, Humiliation, Humor

Clap

According to the DailyKos, today Ted Cruz reached a new low in trying to get the GOP nomination.

Perhaps it is only fair, since Donald Trump recently brought up the fact that news* articles have stated that Ted’s seriously crazy dad, Rafael Cruz, was involved in the Kennedy assassination.

So Ted hit back, as Daily Kos says:

Candidate Ted Cruz, making his final appeal to Indiana voters (before his campaign officially goes down in flames), said of Donald Trump:

“… he’s proud to be a serial philanderer. He talks about his battles with venereal disease as his personal Vietnam.”

To his credit, Ted Cruz’s facts are more reliable than Trumps, as Trump did make the comment in a 1997 Ted Stern interview.  But still.

I keep thinking there will be a point in the quest for the GOP nomination where I won’t be left speechless by the crassness by the politicians involved.

 

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Filed under 'Merica, 2016, ; Don't Make Me Feel Perky Tonigh, All The News You Need, Awards, Bat-shit crazy, Beating that Dead Horse, Being an asshole, Campaigning, Cancer on Society, Conspicuous consumption, Crazy Folks Running, Daily Kos, Disgustology, Do GOP Voters Actually THINK?, Don't Make Me Puke, Donald Trump, Donald Trump is a Pussy Too, Fuckin' Donald Trump, GOP, How the Hell Did We GET HERE?, Huh?, Humiliation, Humor, I Can't Get No, Oh shit, Shit Your Pants Scary, Stupidity, Ted Cruz, What a Maroon, What must folks in other countries be thinking?, Where does the GOP get these guys?, Wild Beasts, WTF?

Sassy

“A haircut will make you feel better, Lease,” my niece, Jen, said as we wandered the mall.  We were together in Florida to organize and attend my dad’s funeral.  It was December, 2000.

For reasons I still don’t fully understand, my brother Bob, who was Dad’s primary caretaker at the end, was insistent.

“Dad wanted to have Bobby Darin’s Mac The Knife played at his funeral,” Bob insisted.  So in the days before YouTube, Jen and I were on a mission, looking for a CD of the song.  It was no easy feat, let me tell you, finding that recording.*  Record stores were fading, and the stock held by the few remaining didn’t include too many hits from 1958.  Jen and I were getting tired and frustrated.

But Jen was right, I looked awful.

My hair is my best feature and always has been.  It’s strawberry blonde, thick and curly.  It does what it wants to do, which is good, because I don’t like to fuss with it.  And I always let whoever cuts my hair do what they want with it.  It always looks better than when I tell the expert what to do.

Into the salon Jen and I went.

Mellie, the hairdresser I ended up with, was young — 19, she said.  Her hair was black and pink, and she wore thick makeup and brass hoop earrings the size of hula hoops.

I looked at Jen skeptically.

“It’ll be fine,” she reassured me.  Of course, she wasn’t getting her hair cut.

I told Mellie to trim my hair, that I was going to a funeral and needed to be presentable.

“How about …” Mellie started talking about different looks.  But really, I didn’t care.

“Whatever.”

When she finished, she twirled my chair around like a playground carousel.

“There you go!  You look … sassy!

She’d given me the ugliest hairstyle I’ve ever seen — Jennifer Aniston haircut from friends.  Cut short in the back, with long sides.  It’s not a nice look on a human.

John and Jacob hadn’t been able to get to my Dad’s funeral — there were no flights available.  John was gentle when he saw my new do, though.  After all, I was grieving.  A month later when I had all my hair cut off to get rid of the stupid style, John said “I was really surprised to see you with that style.  You looked like Cooper [our English springer spaniel.]    Long curly bits around your ears and nothing in back.”

Jacob & Cooper in Alps ~2000

Yesterday I had my long hair cut to chin length.  When he was done, my longtime hairdresser Ric, who has never given me a bad cut, spun my chair around and proclaimed:

“Elyse, you look sassy!”

Shit.

 

*****

* We were, happily able to find a recording of Mack The Knife:

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Filed under ; Don't Make Me Feel Perky Tonigh, Conspicuous consumption, Dogs, Don't Make Me Puke, Family, Gross, Humiliation, Humor, laughter, Memoir writing, Missing Folks, Oh shit, Sassy