Soooo. Yeah. The last two weeks have been torture. Let me be more succinct. Torture on my feet. My predilection for high heeled shoes comes at a price. Sooner or later my feet wage a civil war against me. Right now my toes are all crunched and curled up as if I went through ancient Chinese foot binding. The balls of my feet are on fire and each step I suppress the "ooch ouch" my mouth wishes to utter. I abuse my feet all in the name of fashion. It is against Oracle Rules (and there are a plenty) to wear matronly, ugly, sensible shoes. I just can't do it. My shoes are an outlet for me. My feet are the only part of my body that hasn't betrayed me by getting bigger. They have been a 7.5-8 since high school. And I love them for their loyalty. I REWARD them for their fidelity. Outside of jewelry, I spend quite a bit of scratch on shoes. I love them! So in honor of my feet, and perhaps a blatant bribe to get them to stop the revolt, I dedicate this blog to the torture contraptions which elegantly adorn me. Here is to you Michael Kors, Calvin Klein, Guess, Max Studio, Saks 5th Avenue, and Beverly of Hollywood! Thank you for making each painful step a fashion forward one. I salute you!

The 7 culprits of foot rebellion!

Three new pairs I bought on my lunch break Tuesday. I just can't break the addiction to high heeled shoes. Oh well. Such is the curse of a short girly girl. You have to admit they are damn cute and worth the pinched toes and swollen feet!

Note to feet.. Please don't be so angry with me.. You look so good!

I have never been one for sappy love songs.. Well.. I have never been one to PUBLICLY like sappy love songs. Privately maybe perhaps I have listened to a few. UPON OCCASION.. I heard the song by Celine Dion "Because you loved me" and something clicked in my head.

Recently the marriage that was not meant to be has exploded, imploded, then exploded again. The fallout is everywhere. I know it is over. He just can't seem to get it. I'm OVER you. Completely and utterly over YOU! I knew it was over when I started looking forward to the reruns of Snapped on Oxygen Channel. Those ladies give you a great blueprint of what not to do. Learn from their mistakes. The other night he called and I could detect the lit of Miller Lite in his conversation as clear as day. Crying and pontificating about how he wants "us" back. It has been years since I have believed anything he says, as I have learned numerous times, he is all about the grand speech and no follow up. In fact secretly I call him Congress or the Reverend. All talk. Beautifully constructed legislation. No true plan of action and absolutely no desire to do anything.

The word love gets thrown around like Halloween candy. It has become so weak and watered down that it holds no weight with me. I can hear "I love you" and be completely unmoved. My ex uses it like the get out of jail free card on a Monopoly board. The side effect of anything you use to much is, it looses it's potency. So when he called crying on the phone about how much he "loves" me, the Celine Dion song flashed in my head immediately. Because you love me, I am the way I am. Hard. Cold. Unfeeling. Mistrustful. Disgusted. Annoyed. Mean. Hateful. When I hear the word "love" I equate it with someone trying to get something out of me. Love to me is hustle or pimp talk.

I reworked the lyrics of the Celine Dion song for laughs and sent it to him. He was unamused. I was tickled to death.

Because you Loved Me by the Oracle

For all those times you stole from me
For all those lies you told to me
For all the joy you stole from my life
For all the arguments, stress, and strife
For every dream of yours that came true
I paid exuberant personal costs for you
I'll be forever thankful baby
You're the one who pissed me off
Never failed to slack off
Let me fix all the problems alone
You were the one who caused it all
You tried to convince me I was weak
You should have learned when not to speak
Your lies blinded my eyes to the truth
You stole my precious youth
Held me down when I tried to reach
I found only in God I could believe
I'm everything I am
Because you loved me

I am the biggest stress case you would ever want to meet. Given my chosen profession that sounds ridiculous. I dole out advice on how to de-stress all the time. (I'm good at it too) It is even more ludicrous considering I am a lazy Buddhist as well. I am so uptight and stressy at night my head doesn't even touch the pillow. I sorta hover over the mattress like the chick in the exorcist or a cheesy Vegas magic trick. I have lists and lists and lists of things I worry about all the time. Like stomach in knots worry. Many of the things are legitimate, however PLENTY of them are just plain silly. I consider myself to be extremely rational, yet these subsidiary worry lists beguiles all rationality. So. I have decided to make a list of things I worry about which I shall discontinue worrying about. (I am also very organized)
Things Oracle is NOT going to Worry about Anymore
or at least attempt to stop worrying about
  1. Falling in love
  2. Not falling in love
  3. Knowing what love feels like so that I know if 1 or 2 has happened
  4. Meeting and marrying a Jewish Dentist
  5. Creating the perfect play lists for my iPod
  6. If I am going to see Prince in concert again before he dies I got robbed by MJ
  7. Paying off ALL of my credit cards (I might take this off the list)
  8. Why my brother is such an ass
  9. Worrying about what D thinks about me/ Worrying that D doesn't think about me
  10. Waiting for Satan to drag my ex-husband back to hell from whence he came
  11. Why didn't I just get an iPhone like I wanted
  12. Wondering if the clothes I donated to Goodwill go to a good home (most of them were from Nordstrom or Banana Republic)
  13. What my dog is doing in heaven without me, we need each other
  14. How much happier I would have been if I had never gotten married
  15. If string theory is correct, what are the other Mes doing right now
  16. If time travel will ever happen
  17. Why did I major in psychology when people actually get on my nerves and I am only in it for the scratch
  18. Why can't I predict the future on a more consistent basis
  19. What happened to all the naps I was unable to take
  20. Why isn't there a Sprinkles Cupcakes in Houston (WTH)
  21. If I will ever get all my money back from my slackalicious ex (signs point to no)
  22. Why am I only really attracted to men from Brooklyn which is a bad thing because they ALL have game
  23. Trying to master the universe and bend it to my will
  24. The laundry pile that never seems to get COMPLETELY done
  25. When the economy will pick up so I can get a maid again
  26. Why the show Girlfriends got rid of the only good character Tony Childs, and why everyone keeps comparing the two of us
  27. What is Beyonce doing with MY MAN Jay Z (also a man from Brooklyn)
  28. When am I going to get that damn Gucci watch I have been lusting after
  29. Getting down to my high school weight of 106 (new goal is 130)
  30. If my spelling ability will ever improve

After a long hiatus (being married) I have decided to start talking to men again. Not per say trying to get into a relationship, but just TALKING to them. My ex did such a number on me that I believe if a man's lips are moving, it is a lie. If not an out and out lie, a distorted version of the truth. Soo, with much deliberation, I decided to just TALK to men. I am now thinking what a supidass idea that was.

So. In the one week of me attempting to leave the safe cocoon of my home, I have encountered some of the most bizarre behavior by the holders of the XY chromosome. If this is what single gals have to put up with, leave me out. I have been bombarded with penis pictures, then asked to send all sorts of shots that would make Lary Flint blush. The requests have been bold as hell, like requesting specific lingerie or poses. Even props! I am not joking.. Props. I have also come in contact with some more savvy technology users who want videos. I was floored.

The next set of tomfoolery stunned me. It takes a lot to render me speechless. This asshole sent me a sex questioner which I was to fill out in depth before he would give me the time of day. Best part, he approached me! So basically he trolls around, finds a woman attractive, then before he invests his precious time in an email or a phone call, he has to ensure she meets his sexual expectations. Never mind his intellectual or spiritual needs. Just as long as the woman has the skills of an escort, he is perfectly content. How shallow of him. I didn't fill out the questioner. He did send me another message which contained a hotel address, time, and date. I promptly blocked him.

The most outrageous offer I received last week was from a married lawyer. He basically offered me the illustrious position of being his mistress. Well sorta. He asked for a key to my house and informed me that he would take me to get birth control next week. This was all after one brief conversation. He was the last straw. I can't even make it to dating. I have lost the interest. It seems men can't get past one conversation with me without being disqualified. I wonder if perhaps in my mind all I want is sex anyway and that is why all these bottom feeders are gravitating towards me. However, even strictly physical relationships require some finesse.

All in all, I have decided to stop exposing myself to this foolishness. I had written off men after my jackass husband. Now, like Moses I have the commandments written in stone. NO MEN for me. Not one. If I don't already know you, I have no reason to know you. I don't like you before I like you. I did decide instead of a man to keep me company, to get a puppy. Which in the end will provide way more satisfaction than a man ever will.

Lately I have been very restless. I am on the verge of making some major changes in my life. One of the things I was thinking of was cutting my hair. I have been wearing my hair long forever. I read somewhere Native American women used to cut their hair off as a signal they divorced their husband. They also would put his shoes outside the teepee. If only it were that easy. But.. Have been thinking my hair is holding a ton of negative energy I have been carrying around for years. One morning I decided to cut it all out. My hair had to go and hopefully the bad energy with it.

This is what I looked like with short hair. Anne K took this picture circa 2002.
This is the haircut I decided I wanted with some fierce highlights in the front.

Looonggg hair Oracle.
Pocahontas long hair!

Loooonnngg hair Oracle.

I told my closest friends about my decision to chop it all off. The news was met with mixed reviews. Two totally different camps polarized by the gender of the respondent. Women were 100% for it and would send me all sorts of pictures of sexy rock and roll cuts. Men were for lack of a better word.. Horrified. In fact one of my dear dear friends was so upset he PRAYED I would not cut off my hair. Oddly enough, his prayer must have worked. I did NOT cut my hair. Right now it is a bit shorter than I usually wear it, but by no means did I hack it to bits. So. Rapunzel did not off her hair.

New "hair cut".

People who are close to me and I mean really really close to me know I had one true love of my life. None of them know him personally. He is an entire book of my life that didn’t overlap with the people who orbit me now. I rarely talk about him because it is so painful. I have spent years trying to crawl back into the cocoon of bliss that I have only felt with him. I don’t think I will ever find my way back into the nexus. Sometimes you can never go home.
We met when I was a sophomore in college. I was dating the guy all parents want you to be with. N was handsome, athletic, insanely intelligent, came from an excellent family, and was studying to be a doctor. (He is a surgeon now)We were the proverbial golden couple. One night my suite mates had invited a bunch of guys for an impromptu party. When I walked in, there was pandemonium going on around the house and in the middle of all the ruckus was D. He was calmly watching all of the tomfoolery as if it were normal. For some reason I was drawn to him. Like. Gravitational pull. Tractor beam from the Starship Enterprise. D was engaging, comical, and most of all very worldly. It didn’t take long for me to find ways to spend more time with him. UNTIL my Mr. Perfect Boyfriend decided to surprise me on “Sweetest Day” . (Who invented Sweetest Day anyway? It is a dumb idea) I thought they were going to rip each other apart but luckily the skirmish ended peacefully. It was not long after that, I got kicked out of the dorm for having boys in my room. Imagine that.

In my hurried move, D and I were not able to stay in touch. It felt like the world was ending. My parents rented an apartment for me close to campus and my life went on. D ever left my mind. It took about six months, but I found him. We spent so much time together he practically moved in. Well. He DID move in. My parents figured it out and decided to stop stroking checks for my upkeep. We made our relationship formal and split the bills. College kids are not the wealthiest, but we were happy. Really really happy. Like in the Allegory of the Cave, we experienced things together. Grew together. Taught each other things. We could laugh for hours about nothing and talk without uttering words. We ate breakfast for dinner and played games till he let me win. Our humble apartment was our Utopia our Shangri-La.

D is nothing like me on the surface. He is from Brooklyn. D listened to rap and I was all about Dave Matthews Band. We always opened our minds to each other’s world. D met my parents, my brother, and experienced my lifestyle in the suburbs. I went home with him to NYC and met all of his friends and family. He even entrusted me with his twin siblings once. Only ONCE. People didn’t understand why we were together till they SAW us together. It made sense like fried chicken and waffles. It sounds ridiculous but tastes amazing.

All good things come to an end. We had the best communication in the world, but due to all sorts of circumstances that broke down. It caused the destruction of us. I moved out. I moved on. He moved on. I can remember the last time I saw him. There was such sadness in his eyes. He was the first and the last time I ever put 100% of myself into a relationship. Since then, 60% is about all I am willing to bestow. I have steeled myself against people. I never let men get close to me. I think the part of me that is loving and affectionate is locked away. Like Miss Havisham’s wedding room, certain emotions are in a rotting room never to be used again.

I can’t blame him for any of this. I just know I will never love anyone like I loved him. To this date, I have never loved anyone else. He gave me 5 of the happiest years of my life. I can say D has set the bar so high no man has ever been able to jump over it. He is so incredibly kind, honorable, giving, loving, intelligent, and funny. D is everything a person aspires to be. The type of guy who restores your faith in humanity. A guy you are proud to say is your friend and take home to your family. He made me strive to be a better person through his actions rather than lectures. I have dated prototypes of D for years. A guy who sort of looked like him or a guy from Brooklyn… All types of components of him all to no avail. Perhaps I am crying over spilled milk, but he is the only man worth my tears.

There are so few perfect relationships between men and women. Some are down right catastrophic, others are tolerable, and those rare ones have a beneficial symbiosis. Luckily, in the past I have had the fortune to have several near perfect relationships with different people. The type where each person knew where the other stood. Neither party encroached their agendas or ideals on the other. The type of relationship which was so darn easy it was like breathing. Those types of relationships are about as easy to find as the Holy Grail. I miss the simplicity of those affairs.

Today I heard the song In Your Eyes by Peter Gabriel and was immediately transported back to my time with Vandersande. We had the easiest relationship ever. Vandersande came from old old money and had aristocratic manners to match. He was charming, intelligent, and had an amazing body to match. On paper Vandersande was quite a catch. But… In reality not everyone got him. His quirky ways were born out of generations and generations of wealthy people with too much money and time on their hands. To many Vandersande was just plain weird as hell. To me.. He was bewitching.

As all tragic children of extreme wealth he sort of floated through life with little to no direction. Living each day without the worry of what is around the corner. Free from the irritants of career, bills, retirement, and all those other irksome details the rest of us wrestle with. Vandersande was just a capricious spirit. Gentle, kind, generous to a fault. We got along well. He would come over to the apartment with bottles and bottles of wine and flowers not only for me but my roommate as well. Girfts from him were always unexpected and luxurious. Things you would never think to purchase for yourself, however you lust after them in store front windows. Vandersande spoiled it in many ways for every man behind him.

Times with him were like lazy Sunday mornings. Easy and free. We would drink wine and go skinny dipping at the beach which was in walking distance from his house. Other times we would go out for extravagant dinners and then have wild encounters on the way home. He was so intelligent it would put most people ill at ease. It intrigued me. I have always been attracted to very smart men. In many ways Vandersande was the perfect man for me but.. like a Shakespearian tragedy all this wonderful had ruinous flaws. Number one. He was from old money which completely frowned on interracial relationships. I never attended fetes in Richmond with him surrounded by people whose ancestors more than likely owned mine. Hell.. He wouldn’t have been accepted in my societal circles either. I could never bring him to a Jack & Jill function due to his lack of a Master’s or PHD. If you are not a mover and a shaker, you are an outcast where I am from. Family money can get you only so far. The commodity we trade on is education. The more you have, the higher your standing with us. Second and most importantly, Vandersande had a drug habit that could only be supported by someone who is independently wealthy. In front of me he only smoked pot and occasionally did pills. But the stories I used to hear about him doing coke with his parents troubled me. I can barely drink wine in front of mine, and I monitor how many glasses I consume under my Mom’s watchful eye.
I miss Vandersande. I miss the way I felt around him. Like everything was ok and nothing mattered. His carefree attitude about life was infectious. I consumed it greedily and was always ravenous for more. He saw things so very uniquely, that I was intoxicated by him. I really don’t know why we stopped seeing each other. We just sort of drifted apart. No massive blow up or fight. In fact we never even argued. We just were. He accepted me in all of my scorpio passion and crazy and I in turn granted him reprieve from my judgmental pushy tendencies. I never tried to motivate him to get his act together. Not once did I give him flack about his drug habit. I just enjoyed spending evenings at the beach with my toes in the sand listening to his ideas on string theory, drinking wine, watching the ocean in all of its magnificent glory. Yes.. I miss Vandersande. He is exactly what I need right now. A respite from my life filled with mundane things like work, stress, and responsibility. Plus he always had the best stash of “relaxers”.

Recently a guy I have a very peculiar relationship sent me a mix CD. At first I looked at my driver's licence to make sure I wasn't still in High School. Then I thought.. What a great idea. Songs can convey things that we sometimes are incapable of stating coherently ourselves. With that in mind, I have been mentally constructing play lists for various situations in my life. For instance, I set my alarm to the song One from a Chorus Line. Now I wake up in the right frame of mind. The play list for the iPod I take to the gym has been revamped and I have noticed my workouts are going extra hard now. I would send my besties all sorts of play lists with songs that make me think of them like Best Friend by Brandy or My Love is Your Love by Whittney Houston. However, to my ex the biggest asshole in the universe, I would send the nastiest most fucked up play list imaginable. Nothing connected to him makes me think of anything remotely positive. His play list would be full of music that invokes anger and makes drunken people fight. Hell.. It would make sober Buddhist Monks fight. So. Here is his play list.
Play list for the Jerk of all Jerks
Break Stuff by Limp Bizkit
Anything But Down by Cheryl Crow
Beat It by Michael Jackson
Bia' Bia' by Lil Jon
Billy Jack Bitch by Prince
Bring Me Down by Kanye West
Damaged by Danity Kane
Dig A Hole By Jay Z
Dirt Off Your Shoulder by Jay Z
Exhale (Shoop Shoop) by Withney Houston
Green Light by Beyonce
Goodriddance by Greenday
How I Could Just kill A Man by Cypress Hill
I Hate You by Kelis
I Ain't Goin' Out Like That by Cypress Hill
I Don't Give a Fuck by Lil Jon
I Wish I Wasn't by Heather Headley (not the love part)
Kill You by Eminem
Knuck If You Buck by Crime Mob
Liar by Henery Rollins
Party Up by DMX
Rape Me by Nirvana
Sabotage by The Beastie Boys
Scream by Michael Jackson
Scar Tissue by The Red Hot Chili Peppers
Shut 'em Down by Public Enemy
Song For The Dumped by Ben Folds Five
Shut Up by The Black Eyed Peas
Spaceship by Kanye West
Stupify by Disturbed
Take A Bow by Rihanna
To The Left by Beyonce
Tyrone by Erykah Badu
Wanksta by 50 Cent
Wonder Why They Call You A Bitch by Tupac
When A Womans Fed Up by R Kelly
Whoop That Trick from Hustle & Flow
You Got Lucky by Tom Petty
You're So Vain by Carly Simon
and lastly
99 Problems by Jay Z

Wedding and engagement rings are so wonderful. They bring you joy, pride, and a sense of belonging.. That is... If you are happily married. The MOMENT you decide the marriage is not for you, or get divorced.. The rings are.. Basically worthless. Diamonds are a girl's best friend, however on the resale market.. They can be as big of a disappointment as the failed marriage. Almost but not quite. Hours were spent scouring jewelry stores for the most perfect rings. I can remember the day clearly when my friend, my ex, and I found my Ritani "endless love" engagement ring and matching eternity wedding band. It was love at first sight. Strangely enough I did not have the same reaction when I first met my ex. That should have been clue enough but I digress... So. Here were are. Years later. My 3.60 karats worth of platinum set best friends are worthless to me. I never wear the rings. NEVER. As much as I like ice, I keep them locked away in the safe. The only time they see the light of day is when I want to punk someone OR I go shopping at Sacks or Nordstrom and want good service. Other than that.. I have no desire to wear my former besties.

The economy sucks! Pawn shops are overrun with diamonds. People are unloading their assets left and right for the cold hard cash. This puts ex wives at a disadvantage. The value of their rings has dropped faster than R. Allen Stanford's list of close friends. I would rather hold on to my worthless rings than pawn them for a fraction of what they are truly worth.

In a perfect world, all ex wives could take their rings and magically convert them into something they really want. If I had a magic wand, I would turn my Ritani rings into David Yurman beauties! That way I wouldn't be screwed over twice (literally and figuratively). I would actually get at least ONE thing out of this Ponzi Scheme of a marriage that doesn't piss me off.

I have checked all sorts of websites for ways to unload my rings and none have met to my satisfaction of a good solution. Rings are not selling as fast as you would think they should considering the prices are akin to fire sale frenzy. The websites do have catchy names like;

I feel for the people who have posted rings on this site. We are all in the same boat. Sucky economy stuck with our assets frozen.