Well, as you recall from our last installment, I have moved to another rat-hole across the office, far, far, fwom the babbling, baby-talking Pwincess Precious. It’s a smaller rat-hole, but it has a window, and I can do “minimalist.”
Now I am coming to realize that this side of the office has its own brand of vermin: The Shrieking Fashion Harpy, apparently the unnatural daughter of Ethel Merman and a fingernail on a blackboard. She’s our Very Important Stylist, who makes sure all the clothes for the fashion shoots come in, lines them up on clothing racks (completely blocking the hallway) and coordinates them, so the hideous plaid capris are next to the bilious green tankinis.
She strides up and down the hall, screaming, “Is this Jimmy Choo? I SAID I WANTED CHA-CHA HEELS, DAMMIT! THESE AREN’T CHA-CHA HEELS!! I HATE YOU PEOPLE!!!”
I am beginning to miss the Kingdom of the Pwecious . . .
Every time you get irritate just think of me with sympathy. I’m currently working for a bird watching magazine and our artists keep leaving dead birds in the refrigerators (not always in baggies! :eek: ) for later study.
[Vizzini]
“Do you know what those are, Princess? Those are the Shrieking Fashion Harpies! If you swim back now, no harm will come to you. I doubt you’ll get the same promise from the Harpies.”
[/Vizzini]
Ugh…people do that at my job all the time too. Every time I open the fridge, someone has left another dead bird in there. Usually they’re all chopped up, too. Slices of chicken…chunks of turkey…sick, I tell you, just sick.
Please keep a tape recorder on her at all times. One of these days she’s going to mess up and shriek for “choo-choo heels,” and you will be able to tell British Vogue about how you were there when a new fashion trend was born.
Ugh! Now you’re going to start quoting Baudrillard, aren’t you? Stick with Spartan, and then Shrieking Fashion Harpy—Singing-Avian Fashionista?—won’t be able to complain when you stick a spear through her head.
If your next move puts you in a department with the make-up editor known as the Khmer Rouge, well…let’s not think about that.
Would it be feasible to get eawpwugs, er, earplugs? I’m sure you could find some elegant ones that coordinate with the lorgnette. They might even make a matching cattle prod–electrified, it’s a deterrent to the Harpy and non-electrified, it shoves racks of repulsive clothing out of your way.
Also, what are cha-cha heels? (Yes, I’m pretty fashion-clueless. Yes, they’re going to revoke my vagina pretty soon if I keep on like this. I already had to give up the ovaries and uterus in penance for my power tool obsession.)
Ya know, I had a brief moment of thinking that you were talking about making them into human enchilada’s or something.
Then I got the joke.
The fact that it took more more than an instant means that it’s time for me to get a good night’s sleep, 'cause that was pretty funny. :smack: I’ve been working too hard.
The shoes shown in Otto’s link are actually fuck-me pumps (ankle-strap high-heels) with cha-cha heels (also called “Sabrina” heels, they’re not too high, with a Louis or corset shape).
The tirade was from Divine’s greatest role, Dawn Davenport in Female Trouble, a girl who goes wrong because she doesn’t get cha-cha heels for Christmas.
thinking that you were talking about making them into human enchilada’s or something.