Getting Stoned

There is a dangerous new fashion trend out there, more embarassing than leg warmers, and possibly more painful than carpal tunnel. It's the increased sitings of large, unwieldy rocks worn as jewelry.

The pebbly growth crawling across Beyonce's gorgeous dress on Oscar night is one of many examples of stone-cold style. "Alien" meets Balenciaga. I kept expecting maggots to hatch out of those eggs.

That same night Meryl Streep was wearing a necklace the size of a hubcap. She may have been beaming back a simulcast to her home planet, but at least it took attention away from her hairstyle, or lack thereof. I've seen nicer coifs in Fontana on conjugal visit day. She should have done us all a favor and picked up a $3 do-rag at the 7-11.

And since you asked, I can't tell you how many times I've donned my Dior ballgown, Harry Winston diamonds, and forgotten to wash my hair. Cameron Diaz, if anyone should know about hair gel, it's you. And no, Origami is not the name of a new dress designer.

Anyway, back to the rocks. Fashionista that I am, I had to try out the 'ball and chain' style and wear some serious weights around my neck. Wow, what a workout. It was empowering in the same way that pain proves character.

My fashion statement? I am such a slave to style that I will wear enormous gawkish blobs about my neck and pretend to enjoy it. I'm so outlandish and unbalanced, I might even consider someday voting Republican. Nah.