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Why Whitney Houston inspires me to read

Hampster_reading_books_funny_picture

Every time a celebrity or public figure dies, the reaction on social media sites follows nearly the same pattern: initially a mix of shock, questions, “R.I.P.’s”, postings of you tube videos, spike in Google searches. Maybe a week later, after we’ve all been beyond saturated with television and magazine media coverage of said death, suddenly the attitude changes to “why are we wasting time on this person, there are soldiers dying overseas, they are our real heroes!!!”

Well, duh, but you’d be hard-pressed to find any recent decade where celebs didn’t steal the spotlight from those more deserving of it. After all, it’s their purpose – the arts are often a refuge from the stresses and upsets of real life. The piano or dance studio can be your place to tune out everything else. Not an artist yourself? Then you admire one. Quite a bit.

But the entertainment industry is also known for mimicking reality, so when a larger-than-life performer dies suddenly, that death has real-world implications. However, because we perceive these celebrities to be more influential in our own lives than they actually are, the more important messages get buried.

Everyone blames the media; nobody wants to take responsibility. (I might also mention that you can absolutely be upset about & affected by more than one news story at a time, but this is another point in itself.)

Whitney’s death (Michael’s, Amy’s, on and on…) presents an opportunity to open up dialogue about a lot of important social issues: substance abuse, toxic relationships, corrupt medical practices, the glorification (and eventual stigmatization) that comes with celebrity, etc. etc. etc. The media, admittedly, gets it wrong every time by writing to appeal to the most ridiculous audience – the kind of person who’s wailing crying outside their apartment with a lit candle and sacrificial lamb for Whitney.

It’s easy to fall into this type of news consumerism for a couple of reasons. First: your peers. What are your friends saying about Whitney through tweets and Facebook statuses? Which of those statuses have you “liked?” As much as we want to act as if we’ve grown up and now operate on independent thought, we absolutely do not. Suddenly “I wanna dance with somebody” is everyone’s favorite song. iTunes sales of Whitney music have skyrocketed. It’s a bandwagon effect, now more measurable and obvious than ever, thanks to social media and the Internet.

The other main reason we care so much about “sexy” news stories: our TV pundits. Sometimes I watch the television and think: How did this asshole make it so far in the public sphere? Answer: Because if someone is loud or outrageous enough, we’ll listen. It doesn’t matter if we agree with what they’re saying or not, but their words will inevitably veer the topics of real-life conversation. Think about some of the most watched and influential figures in media today: Bill O’Reilly, Stephen Colbert, Nancy Grace, Sean Hannity. All big voices, gregarious personalities…they are celebrities and characters in their own right. It has much less to do with their words and everything to do with how much conviction we hear in them.

It gets less frustrating when you step back and realize that only you have ultimate control of the information you’re processing on a daily basis. Is our American media rife with inaccuracies, stupid information and even stupider people conveying it? Absolutely. But blaming the media isn’t going to change anything, it just diverts our attention to the shortcomings and constructs a bigger stage on which to spew the bullshit.

Try opening a newspaper or book instead. I’m consistently amazed at how much more I’m learning when I take the time to read and research for myself rather than have a talking head tell me what I should be paying attention to. Additionally, harboring our own private interests and studying our own inquiries protects them (somewhat) from public persuasion. A great way to screw something up is to share it with the world when it’s in its infancy.

A few pages of freewriting, not edited so lay off.

I’ve officially been sucked into reality television. I thought it happened when Marlee Matlin was all manner of flawless on “The Celebrity Apprentice,” but then that creep Donald Trump didn’t crown her winner so I gave up with reality shows. (You’re better than any of that shit anyway, Marlee. Not to worry).

Well “Dance Moms” has a hold on me that’s admittedly surprising. On tonight’s episode, Nia and her mom Holly shared this really sweet moment that totally made me bawl. The kid was having a panic attack, upset because she’s sore and because Jill almost pelted her in the head with a jazz shoe 30 seconds before her solo. Holly took her aside from the insanity, and Nia went out there and worked that crummy Texas gymnasium (because that’s how they do it down South).

This reminds me of my 4th grade Author’s Tea Day, where our all our parents were invited to hear us take turns reading short stories we had written. (That sounds like the funnest day ever, right?!)

I had chosen to author a mini-biography of my dad. What the hell was I thinking? I was the only person in the whole 4th grade who had chosen BIOGRAPHY. Everyone else had exciting mystery or fantasy stories, with cool pictures that they had drawn. I remember being particularly envious of Courteney’s book because she was a born artist, and she can tell a story like no other.

I also remember that I was sitting next to my best friend, Brittany, and I whispered to her that I didn’t want to go because I was embarrassed. I’ll never forget what she said to me: “Your story is great, and you should be happy that your dad is here to hear it.”

Brittany’s father had died when she was a baby. We never really knew him, and we never really talked about her dad that much. Only a couple of times.

She was right. Most of the other dads weren’t even there. Pretty much all the mothers were, but I was extra lucky. There were both my parents, sitting in the stuffy elementary classroom in foldout chairs, taking the day off from work because they knew it was worth it to watch me read my stupid 10-page story (I don’t even know how many pages it was. Probably less than 10).

When it was finally my turn I grabbed my book and walked the 26 inches to the podium. It was the longest walk of my entire life. I got up and started with the first few pages. I was shaky and slow, but I was doing it! Flipping along, maybe even starting to warm up.

But I hadn’t looked up from my book yet. While waiting my turn, I had noticed that the best readers were the ones who looked up at the audience and smiled, made eye contact.

In an instant without thinking (as to correct my mistake), my eyes shot up to the only placed I had really cared about since the whole Author’s Tea Day started 15 minutes ago (an eternity in stage fright time): my parents.

I lost it. It was like I couldn’t read. The other parents probably thought I was special ed. (Yes, Mom, it was seriously this bad.) It wasn’t like I just stopped dead in my tracks – No, that would have been an obvious sign of nerves and much less humiliating than what I actually did.

I kind of fizzled out like a dying mouse. (I know this to be true because I have pet mice). My body and voice started trembling (visibly, audibly), and then all of the sudden words weren’t even coming out of my mouth, just little crackling noises and well, squeeks. I felt big fat, wet tears well up in my eyes and I recall wanting to kick myself for losing it in front of ALL THESE 14 PEOPLE!!!!!

My teacher, Mrs. Ibsen, swooped down to the rescue. She saw that I was about to have a seizure and took me into the hallway. She asked me if I wanted my parents to come out. No! No! They couldn’t see me like this! All I had to do was tell the story of my dad’s life – it wasn’t even anything I had made up!

After some tears and a lot of cajoling, I bargained with Mrs. Ibsen that I would go back in the classroom—BE SEEN IN PUBLIC AGAIN AND NOT DIE IN A SHADOW OF SHAME—if she would stand at the podium with and read the story for me. I would flip the pages. (Mrs. Ibsen: You are a dear, but you’re terrible with bargaining. I really made out on this one!)

So we go back into the classroom, and at this point I can’t even process what’s happening. When I come to, I realize that my teacher is telling a room full of relieved parents (you know they were all glad it wasn’t their kid!) about my dad being born. What the hell is going on?

Now fully aware of how weird and awkward I’ve made the situation, I decide it’s time to reign it back in. Also, now there are only two pages and the “About the Author” section of the book left. Well, whatever, what the hell was I waiting for?! TIME IS REALLY OF THE ESSENCE NOW.

I finished out the book clearly, even getting a few laughs from the “audience” when I told I read a joke I had written about my cat in the “About the Author” section. (Whiskey was an awesome cat. R.I.P.)

I wasn’t really loud, or proud. I certainly wasn’t as charming as Courteney, or bold like Brittany, but I was me: I could do it well if I took the time to collect myself. And people would hear me, and more importantly, they’d listen.

But this story, and that moment, was never really about me. Sure, looking back it helps me understand the person I am now. And it’s a cute story.

This story is about my mom and dad, who, despite their flaws, taught me a lot of important lessons by being at the 4th grade Author’s Tea in 1990-whatever:

You don’t have to be the biggest or the boldest or the loudest. My parents did not rush up to the podium at the first sign of a twitch to coddle me, or make a big scene and congregate in the hallway for a powwow with Mrs. Ibsen.

They sat back, let me think quietly and compose myself. They knew that by allowing me to think it through at my own pace (and even if I needed a little bit of help at first), I’d rise to the occasion and claim what I deserved—and let’s be real, I wasn’t entitled to much at nine years old.

You literally could not pay me any amount of money to read THIS story aloud to anyone, so maybe I’ve regressed in that sense, but I hope my writing skills have improved since then.

Also, do we have that crappy autobiography around, anywhere? I’d really like to fact-check it.

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Some of the best comments and e-mails I’ve received from my adoring fans

 

Me at my job.

I’m sorry but there is no “Ms. Salomini” here. Your dig is not relevant if you can’t spell my name correctly, especially when it’s spelled out in its entirety in my e-mail address.

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Sorry about your childhood.

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(Story headline: ‘Man Accused of Sexually Assaulting Horse Seeking Accelerated Rehab’)

I just report the garbage, John Smith, at least I don’t create it. But I would expect such ass backwards logic from you, land stealer.

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That’s certainly an elaborate comment about the local business news in my little CT town. Thanks, Sin City!

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That is quite the news tip. Thank you, Marilyn!

My assessment of a few reality TV jerks who wear slutty tops in a shameless attempt to hold onto youth

That doesn’t narrow it down, but of course I’m talking about Lifetime’s DANCE MOMS. So here it goes:

Kelly: Tolerable

I would say that Kelly is the most reasonable of all the mothers, but the fact that she quit dance as a teen because of Abby yet STILL pushed it on her daughters and then cries about it nearly every episode confuses me too much to make such an opinion valid. She’s always harping about having a 30-something year history at the studio—that bit of info constantly embedded in tirades against everything Abby Lee Miller. Um, the obvious solution to you and your kids being so miserable is to LEAVE.

Kelly does stick up for her daughters in the most tolerable way, though. Ex: When Abby berates Brooke for writing on her hand, chewing gum. Abby says it’s trashy. Agreed, but she’s not your daughter, and Kelly made that pretty clear with out being memorably angry.

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Melissa: Insufferable

Look at that creepy gaze. I’m certain this woman is a sociopath, and I have every authority to say so because I took an introductory psych class my freshman year in college. If the Devil offered to give Melissa & her precious Maddie fame and fortune, she’d slash her own fingers and sign the contract in blood, selling the soul of our adorable Mackenzie, damning the 7-year-old for all eternity.

Sleeps with producers to get her daughters jobs, would rather be an indentured servant to Abby than see the outside world and explore an actual career path, evidently won’t bring either of her children to a dentist. THIS IS SOME AWESOME PARENTING GOING ON, WHAT AN EXCELLENT ROLE MODEL.

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Christi: A little less tolerable than Kelly

Christi would be my favorite ALDC dance mom if her MO wasn’t to go from great snarky commentary to teenage bitch fits within less than a minute. Her interview sound bites are always the best (I too, cringed for the masseuse that had to touch Abby. You were certainly not alone there, Christi.), but in real life she starts panicking and then all of the sudden everyone is yelling and swearing and I think I’m watching the Jersey Shore.

Apparently Christi owns a small business, good for her! I don’t know jack about owning a business but I’m going to assume it takes some brains and motivation, leading me to believe that Christi must be smart. Get it together, girl. Stop freaking out and you’ll be more tolerable than Kelly.

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Holly: Needs to get laid

When my sister told me she can’t stand Holly, I was initially appalled. (Okay, no I wasn’t. I don’t care that much). Holly is smart, seems to be raising a lovely and well-rounded daughter, has a life of her own outside Abby’s dungeon, and I was totally in agreement with her stance on the afro wig/Laquifa dance. (Seriously, what the hell was that, Abby? You’re constantly telling these moms & dancers “IT’S MY NAME ON THE LINE,” then you send Nia out in that ugly costume with possibly the worst choreography I’ve ever seen.)

But now I get it. Season 2 Holly has a problem with EVERYTHING. It’s all offensive, racist and inappropriate. All of it. You’re really over-analyzing things, Holly, and that’s coming from someone who is writing about a ridiculous Lifetime network television show.

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Jill: Her face..........

Where do I even begin with this one? She seems to be delusional, the first hint of that being she took her innocent 8-year-old to an open audition at Abby’s studio and didn’t grab that little girl and peel out the parking lot when a 350-pound giant of a bitch walked into the dance room.

Maybe she thought being the newest dance mom on this competition team would be fun or easy. Delusional. Did she watch season 1?

Since I don’t know where to begin, I’m just going to end it with: HER FACE. What happened? Was she involved in a horrible freak accident and needed reconstructive surgery? If that’s the case, then I feel really bad now. But more than likely, she just has a shit ton of money and wastes it on cosmetic surgery, massages for Abby and bribe money for her child (so that Kendall will dance well and Jill can live vicariously through her, of course).

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Cathy Nesbitt: Twat

I would absolutely watch Cathy Nesbitt’s own show if she had one. What a trip! AN ACID TRIP, THAT IS! Though it’s painfully obvious that pretty much all of her involvement on “Dance Moms” is scripted and staged, you can’t make up some of this shit.

“You look like a pug,” I recall her telling her daughter during a competition photo shoot in one episode. That’s a really nice thing to say to little Vivi, who hates dancing, modeling and being on camera more than anything in the world. I’m team Vivi all the way; I really hope social services comes to rescue her soon.

Cathy Nesbitt brings narcissism to a whole new, weird level. Talking about herself in the third person, getting Botox on her lunch break, constantly feeling the need to prove WHAT HER DANCERS ARE CAPABLE OF (yet they kind of always suck).

Thus, twat.

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Everything you need to know about Twilight: Breaking Dawn, Part 1

Let me start off by saying that I have never read any of the Twilight books. The only knowledge I had going into the theater was that this was some weird love triangle story where two loser guys fight over Kristen Stewart and her one facial expression. I was correct in assuming that the movie would be as bad as that sounds.

Bella and Edward are getting married, yay! Enter Sharkboy, followed shortly by a Navajo man in a wheelchair. It’s raining, Sharkboy is pissed, he rips his shirt off and begins to run in no apparent direction into the woods. A few people in the audience “whooped.” I can appreciate a good physique as much as the next person, but god damn…that face. I was hoping he would be in wolf form the whole movie, but unfortunately you end up looking at his pug nose for 90 minutes.

Then there is a wolf named Leah. Since she has the same name as me, I have decided that Leah is the hottest and best character in the Twilight series. She does nothing of importance except stand there and look hot and skinny, which I’m okay with because she doesn’t have a pug nose. I wish I could animal-morph.

After being massacred ONE TIME by Edward’s powerful vampire penis, Bella gets pregnant. I guess if you have a daughter and want to teach her that it’s totally normal to abandon all your friends and family at age 18 for an abusive relationship where birth control and healthy sex is not an option, then this is definitely the movie to take her to. I’m thinking of calling my mom at this point to thank her, because…man, I really lucked out.

Blah blah blah. Though the demon seed baby is slowly but surely killing Bella, she is determined to carry out the pregnancy full-term, against everyone’s advice. The only one who “understands” her is Rosalie, who has permanent bitch-face (Later my friends inform me that Rosalie was essentially raped into the vampire cult, so that makes sense. I don’t ever want to see that movie).

I should also add that Bella’s stupid sap of a father does nothing, even though it is implied that he feels his teenage daughter is in danger. Now I need to tell my mom to give my dad the phone so I can thank him, too, because god knows that if I were in Bella’s position, every single thing that led me to this point would be killed and hung out to dry. I digress again. My point is: Do any of these characters actually DO anything, or do they all just stand around looking concerned?

The styling in this movie is tragic. Everyone looks so damn bland and boring, and Bella’s wedding dress looks like something from the sale rack at Forever 21. Then there are the awful wigs, specifically those worn by the characters played by Ashley Greene and Nikki Reed. For fucks sake, this is a multi-million dollar franchise– you’re telling me there is no way the costume directors didn’t have time to go to a store other than Dollar Bargains for accessories? That, or the awesome minds behind these cinematic masterpieces (who directs them? I don’t even know) picked random names out of a hat and said, “Welp, there’s our cast!” Rosalie is supposed to be blonde but she kind of just looks like she has a mop on her head. Rosalie wants to eat Bella’s baby and doesn’t do anything important either. Seriously, I could have played that part: I’m blonde. I can stand there and look hungry. Nonetheless, we get stuck with Nikki Reed in a shitty wig because she didn’t want to dye her hair.

A bunch of nothing happens. Everyone gets excited when the wolves and vampires battle, but it’s super anti-climactic. I keep waiting for the credits to start rolling but (good god) there always seems to be another scene. At one point I asked (audibly) if this was a joke. No one answered me. Not even my friends.

At the end of the movie (Hallelujah!) Sharkboy “imprints” Bella’s baby. I don’t know what this means. My friend tried to explain that the wolves “imprint” as some form of courtship that leads to protection from the wolf pack. So basically Sharkboy just molested a 20-minute old baby girl and bound it to him for life. That’s totally not creepy and I’m not calling Chris Hansen right now….

I’m going to take a wild guess here and predict that the second installment of this movie consists of more mythical creature fights that are infinitely less awesome than they could be, Bella grappling with the reality that she is now a straight-up vampire, and her baby growing into some sort of beautiful devil toddler.

So that’s basically what I got out of this movie. I’m glad we went to the last available matinee, because it made for perfect timing to get drunk at a socially respectable hour and wash away some of the shame I felt for contributing $7.50 to Twilight’s success.

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Lady Gaga’s meat dress

This year’s MTV Video Music Awards show, held on September 12, was much tamer than last years; no stage crashing or bloody performances by Lady Gaga that left many feeling uneasy and critical of her artistic vision. But, ohh..wait….there was that meat dress she wore to accept her Video of the Year award that has people talking quite a bit.

photo credit: LA Times blog

Admittedly, I did not watch the whole show. I mostly stuck around for Florence and the Machine’s performance (which was flawless).  So I didn’t see this now-famous meat dress until the day after. Like many others, I was curious as to whether Gaga’s getup was real animal flesh or some kind of eerily authentic-looking manmade material.

Indeed it was real. Franc Fernandez, the designer of the “dress” explained that it was assembled using “real meat from my family butcher.”

Always one to rely on shock-value, Lady Gaga explained the meaning behind her clothing choice with Ellen Degeneres: “It’s certainly no disrespect to anyone that’s vegan or vegetarian,” Gaga told the host, “As you known I’m the most judgment-free human being on the Earth. It has many interpretations, but for me this evening it’s [saying] if we don’t stand up for what we believe in, if we don’t fight for our rights, pretty soon we’re going to have as much rights as the meat on our bones. And I am not a piece of meat.”

While that’s all very creative and interesting, was it in some ways irresponsible?  PETA was quick to release a statement on their blog, calling the ensemble “offensive” and “not too attractive, really” because the rotting flesh was probably housing maggots.

photo credit: OhNoTheyDidnt

As you might have caught on from previous posts, I am an adamant advocate of animal rights and a vegetarian, so I kind of have to agree with PETA (although they do sometimes take things to the extreme). As someone who opts not to wear leather, fur and reptile skins, this meat dress made me gag. And although Lady Gaga stated that she meant no disrespect (which I found tasteful and polite of her), it was not adequately redemptive in the eyes of many animal rights activists.

A second issue is also up for debate here. The commenter “it has been” on the celebrity gossip community Oh No They Didn’t posed this argument: “YOU KNOW HOW MANY PEOPLE COULD HAVE BEEN FED A DECENT MEAL INSTEAD OF MAKING THIS DUMBASS DRESS THAT, OBVIOUSLY, COULD ONLY BE WORN ONCE.”

Another valid point to ponder. Lady Gaga essentially wasted otherwise marketable food with this dress (and her matching meat shoes and handbag). Furthermore, it is common and routine that dresses worn by celebrities are auctioned off for charity, but as the meat dress will likely rot and be discarded, it serves no better purpose than an object of oddity used for vain aims to garner attention.

Maybe we’re making a mountain out of molehill with this subject, but it is one worth considering. Do you think Lady Gaga’s meat dress was artistic and fashion-forward, or just a gross heap of flesh that could have been put to better use?

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Not feeling the “throwback” vibe

Under the guise of being an empowered female, Beyonce cries, shakes her tits and performs household chores in minimal clothing. Why don’t I love you, Beyonce? Because you are whining. I know it’s only a music video…but I just can’t deal with all the pathetic messages it sends. On top of that, it is aural torture; I got through 1:39 of this crappy song before I had to stop. If you can stand it enough, evaluate for yourself:

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Dear Celebs,

….Stop wearing this dress. It is dreadful!

(Left-right: Kylie Bisutti, Kim Kardashian, Aubrey O’Day)

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SNL’s Tiger Woods parody: Funny or inappropriate?

The blogosphere is buzzing about this past weekend’s “Saturday Night Live” show, which featured a skit that parodied the current Tiger Woods drama. It featured Kenan Thompson as Tiger Woods and host Blake Lively as his wife, Elin Nordengren. The segment is being called into controversy because it showed Tiger being increasingly hurt by his wife. By the end of the clip, he has tire marks across his shirt, Band-Aids on his face, his arm is in a brace and a golf club is smashed over his head.

Critics are arguing that if the real-life situation had been reversed, and a husband was suspected of inflicting injuries on his wife, there would have been no SNL skit at all because our society takes male-on-female domestic violence much more seriously.

A commenter named “washyuu” of the gossip website OhNoTheyDidnt commented that “I hate when it’s okay to [laugh] at women being the violent ones. It isn’t. Domestic abuse, regardless of which gender is the aggressor, is unfunny and not something to high five over.”

Even more unsettling with those who feel that domestic violence should not be parodied is the fact that the musical guest for the night was Rihanna, who as we all know was abused by then-boyfriend Chris Brown earlier this year and has only very recently spoken about the incident publicly. Some found the skit inappropriate and insensitive for that reason.

However, another commenter named “orangeglo” pointed out that “They do rehearsals. Including a full dress rehearsal before the live show. I’m sure Rihanna/her people knew about the sketch way before it was aired. If she had a problem with it, they probably would’ve changed it/cut it all together.”

Although intended to be light-hearted and funny, there are definitely a lot of implicit messages in this sketch about the way our society regards gender roles and expectations. Not only does the clip downplay the severity of domestic violence in general, it also insinuates that a woman who possess strength and a man who cries about a beating are rare characters that deserve to be laughed at. Maybe “jokes” like this one are the reason that so many cases of female-on-male abuse go unreported, or the reason that women are often regarded as the weaker sex?

Or maybe everyone just needs to relax and not over-think it? What do you all think…watch the skit and then vote in the poll:

ETA: The original video has been removed by NBC, so I’m posting this ABC News clip that pretty much discusses the same thing I am:


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What do Victoria Beckham and UConn have in common?

Anyone who goes to UConn or reads their student newspaper’s “Instant Daily” column knows the running joke about tails. You know, the kind your dog or cat wags when it wants to be fed. There is a group of students who pin faux mammal tails to the back of their pants, walking around nonchalantly as if the bushy appendage swaying between their legs is the most common fashion accessory on the market. (Although, I have yet to see one of them on campus this semester…perhaps they all graduated?)

Well, it looks like the style might actually spread in the very near future, because former Spice Girl and trend-setting fashionista Victoria Beckham has been spotted with a Louis Vuitton Fox Tail Fur Tassels messenger bag, which comes from the company’s spring/summer 2010 collection that hasn’t hit stores yet.

Victoria Beckham, 35, at Heathrow Airport in London, Nov. 14

To be fair, she makes the accessory slightly less ridiculous by not attaching it to her body. But even so, I can’t help but think of those lucky rabbit’s foot key chains I collected when I was a kid. I have no idea how much a bag like this costs, but by virtue of the fact that it’s Louis Vuitton, I’m sure I can’t afford it…regardless of how tacky it looks. Also, I don’t know if it’s a real fox tail, or if it’s just fake fur. If it is authentic, I shudder at and condemn Louis Vuitton.

So for all the times we made fun of the tail kids, it’s going to get even more hilarious if this trend becomes popular. Will the new unofficial UConn uniform be a North Face fleece, UGG boots and a fox tail bag? God, I hope not. Here’s a short video made by a UConn student named Brian about the tails on campus, in case you have no clue what I’m talking about or just need a good chuckle:

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