Saturday, December 11, 2004

The Horror!

There's a woman in our neighborhood who creeps me out. Every time I see her, she's wearing animal skins and furs head to foot. The word "slaughter" pops into my head immediately. I mean, I'm not PETA-rabid about fur, and I can totally see the need to wear it in, say, Siberia, but the temperature has just hit freezing during the day here. It really bothers me to see a person in leather pants, a long fur coat, and a fur hat decorated with a big spray of feathers. Shudder. It would seem that no animal is safe from her depredations. Soon you'll hear that I'm running amok with cans of paint, yelling, "Fur is murder!"

To top it off, she takes this pug with her everywhere, even on the bus, and I have the nasty feeling that she's keeping it so well groomed so she can make a muff out of it to go with the rest of her ensemble.


[Composed en route to school]
Courtney Love clone update:

Someone must have clued that girl in, because she was make-up free for a couple of weeks, and now (literally—she's sitting across the aisle from me on the bus) she has on some light-colored, tastefully applied make-up. Without the spackle, she looks a bit like my middle sister.


[Later that day...]
The fur horror continues:

On the bus this evening, darling daughter and I saw a woman wearing a fur hat that appeared to be made of Tina Turner's hair, dyed black. I hope that woman is watching her back, because T.T. is going to be pissed when she realizes. Anyhow, D.D. thought it looked like a black cake.

Tuesday, December 07, 2004

Not dead yet

We're busier than one-legged men in a butt-kicking contest around here, but I just had to share this:

Amidst the shopping bustle in town today, I saw a woman wearing a coat that appeared to be the leftover upholstery of a black Lexus, with fur-covered sleeves (only elbow to shoulder) and collar. Not any fur, either. It appeared to be badger fur. I could just see it: after defeating the beast bare-handed, she let out a triumphant roar, then draped his shredded remains over her shoulders until she could get to a seamstress.

(I think I need a job as a stringer for the Fug Blog, no?)