Get into my car!
This weekend I went to this little store called "DOTS." They sell "fashion clothes" at less than fashion prices. Think: J. Lo-esque sweatsuits, clear purses etc. I went there under the advice of a big boobed friend of mine who I saw on Friday night at my Moonlighting Job. I said, "how the hell do you keep those things under wraps?" She told me to try out DOTS as well, my girls could always use a good lifting. So, I went. The thing that she recommended to me can't be called a bra OR a tank top. It's a bra/tank top. Or something. And it was $10 so I felt compelled to buy. I picked out this garish pink one with some kind of applique on the above-my-left-boob part and then later on that day, went back and got the simple, boring non-appliqued beige one. Let's call it a Boob Shield. Let's call it The Hardest Thing To Take Off. Let's call it The Hardest Thing To Put On. Let's call it The Binding Bulletproof Tank. Seriously. I guess it's reminiscent of a smaller chested girl's push up bra with the padding but this thing FITS ON MY HEAD. No, seriously. I can almost get my head into one of the "cups." I'm not bragging or complaining, I'm stating hard core facts. It's scary.
Oh!
You: "How'd the make up sesh' go on Saturday afternoon?"
Me: "Great! Thanks for asking!"
Besides a 45 minute delay, I have no complaints about my dawg's maneuvering of my face. I mean, it was nice. I don't know how he can handle dealing with freaks and putting make up on them, but he does good work. I also walked away with a new gloss (told ya!), a lipstick and some kind of lip pot thing with color action in it. I'm such a boy. And a new compact. I'm almost complete.
But not really. Some hard things happened to me as well. No, for real. Sex & the City concluded it's run after such a nice, loving time last night. I thought that I wasn't gonna cry because I'm such a motherfucking hard ass, but when Harry showed Charlotte pics of "their baby," that did it. Which is weird, since I hate babies so much. And then when Magda gave Miranda that little on the forehead kiss, fuck me if I didn't FEEL the tears running down my face. Those girls. I'm gonna miss them. I feel like I'm gonna miss them THE MOST. Another hard thing that happened was the fact that my big crush is getting crushed. It's a professional crush too. A grown up crush if you will. Why? Because he's a PROFESSOR, you guys. And not only is he a professor, he's also the Director of the Philosophy-Neuroscience Program. That's big time for a girl like me. Usually my crushes barely work and completed (MAYBE) high school and might have a driver's license, but it's not like they have a (registered) car that they can drive. And I'm not complaining about my less professional crushes, I'm pointing out some obvious things here that can't be overlooked. So, yea, back in September or soon after I started working at my Day Job, I realized that one man should be mine. That man with the 3 names, that man with the glasses, that man with the dorkiest walk in the whole entire world, that man with the Latin-esque name, that man with the English accent. I mean, when confirming a meeting I was trying to set up, he wrote back that it was in his DIARY. Who says that? Anyway. The heartache is that I found out today from my boss who knows that our love is real is that he's not single. THE NERVE! And, the real headbanger is, he's NOT gay. See, I thought that, at the very least, if he wasn't totally firing on me via email, he had to be gay. Turns out, he's not gay, he's got a girlfriend! And they want to hire her! No. Bye. And I don't even work in the same department. Maybe it'll be good if she's here. I can stalk her. Well, stalking sounds a bit cruel. I can lurk and stuff. Ya know, be a total creepshow. I'm so pissed though! He was my last chance! There are no other for real babes here on campus. Well, maybe there's an unsuspecting undergrad................
The Oscars are almost near. Here's where I am on my nominated films list. That is, here's what I've seen:
Seabiscuit
Lord of the Rings: Return of the King
Monster
Mystic River
Thirteen
Lost in Translation
Pirates of the Caribbean
The Last Samurai
Big Fish
That's WEAK. BUT, I rented Finding Nemo, American Splendor and Once upon a time in Mexico (only for the candy, only for the candy) AND I now own Whale Rider so that's 3 more. If I can knock out Cold Mountain, I'm considering myself golden. How apropos.
I'm going to see Ludacris in mere DAYS people, days. I'm gonna try and sleep with him. And I'll prove it when I come knocking at your doors with his semen running down my thighs. How will you know it's Luda's though? Cause it'll smell like HOTlanta. Bet.
Late late from coming home from a night of drinking with my friend, we found on the blessed boob tube an infomercial about make up. In fact, it was about the Most Sought After Makeup Artist In The World, Alexis Vogel. Has anyone seen this? Anyone? How bout you? All of her "clients" end up with the Pam Anderson Lee look. That is, cat eyes, peachy cheeks and that in-your-face ouch look that is the lip liner heavily lining your lips surrounding a glossy lip. Alexis' thing is that she did the former Baywatch babe's make up and well, that look stuck and now we ALL must have it. For 4 easy installments of $39 or something, you too can look like you wish you could get away with wearing that look. It comes with an instructional video though. I can't imagine. And the thing is, for real, only the former wife of Tommy Lee can really get away with that Playboy look. Well, other Playboy bunnies can too, but "normal folk" just can't. It ends up looking weird. Like that "illusion" that your lips are bigger by putting gloss in between that dip on your upper lip? It really looks like someone splooged on your face and that's the one spot you forgot to clean up. We couldn't change the channel though. So riveting, so very. You can google her and see the perfection that is her classic look. I'd link it, but I have to pee.
Oh!
You: "How'd the make up sesh' go on Saturday afternoon?"
Me: "Great! Thanks for asking!"
Besides a 45 minute delay, I have no complaints about my dawg's maneuvering of my face. I mean, it was nice. I don't know how he can handle dealing with freaks and putting make up on them, but he does good work. I also walked away with a new gloss (told ya!), a lipstick and some kind of lip pot thing with color action in it. I'm such a boy. And a new compact. I'm almost complete.
But not really. Some hard things happened to me as well. No, for real. Sex & the City concluded it's run after such a nice, loving time last night. I thought that I wasn't gonna cry because I'm such a motherfucking hard ass, but when Harry showed Charlotte pics of "their baby," that did it. Which is weird, since I hate babies so much. And then when Magda gave Miranda that little on the forehead kiss, fuck me if I didn't FEEL the tears running down my face. Those girls. I'm gonna miss them. I feel like I'm gonna miss them THE MOST. Another hard thing that happened was the fact that my big crush is getting crushed. It's a professional crush too. A grown up crush if you will. Why? Because he's a PROFESSOR, you guys. And not only is he a professor, he's also the Director of the Philosophy-Neuroscience Program. That's big time for a girl like me. Usually my crushes barely work and completed (MAYBE) high school and might have a driver's license, but it's not like they have a (registered) car that they can drive. And I'm not complaining about my less professional crushes, I'm pointing out some obvious things here that can't be overlooked. So, yea, back in September or soon after I started working at my Day Job, I realized that one man should be mine. That man with the 3 names, that man with the glasses, that man with the dorkiest walk in the whole entire world, that man with the Latin-esque name, that man with the English accent. I mean, when confirming a meeting I was trying to set up, he wrote back that it was in his DIARY. Who says that? Anyway. The heartache is that I found out today from my boss who knows that our love is real is that he's not single. THE NERVE! And, the real headbanger is, he's NOT gay. See, I thought that, at the very least, if he wasn't totally firing on me via email, he had to be gay. Turns out, he's not gay, he's got a girlfriend! And they want to hire her! No. Bye. And I don't even work in the same department. Maybe it'll be good if she's here. I can stalk her. Well, stalking sounds a bit cruel. I can lurk and stuff. Ya know, be a total creepshow. I'm so pissed though! He was my last chance! There are no other for real babes here on campus. Well, maybe there's an unsuspecting undergrad................
The Oscars are almost near. Here's where I am on my nominated films list. That is, here's what I've seen:
Seabiscuit
Lord of the Rings: Return of the King
Monster
Mystic River
Thirteen
Lost in Translation
Pirates of the Caribbean
The Last Samurai
Big Fish
That's WEAK. BUT, I rented Finding Nemo, American Splendor and Once upon a time in Mexico (only for the candy, only for the candy) AND I now own Whale Rider so that's 3 more. If I can knock out Cold Mountain, I'm considering myself golden. How apropos.
I'm going to see Ludacris in mere DAYS people, days. I'm gonna try and sleep with him. And I'll prove it when I come knocking at your doors with his semen running down my thighs. How will you know it's Luda's though? Cause it'll smell like HOTlanta. Bet.
Late late from coming home from a night of drinking with my friend, we found on the blessed boob tube an infomercial about make up. In fact, it was about the Most Sought After Makeup Artist In The World, Alexis Vogel. Has anyone seen this? Anyone? How bout you? All of her "clients" end up with the Pam Anderson Lee look. That is, cat eyes, peachy cheeks and that in-your-face ouch look that is the lip liner heavily lining your lips surrounding a glossy lip. Alexis' thing is that she did the former Baywatch babe's make up and well, that look stuck and now we ALL must have it. For 4 easy installments of $39 or something, you too can look like you wish you could get away with wearing that look. It comes with an instructional video though. I can't imagine. And the thing is, for real, only the former wife of Tommy Lee can really get away with that Playboy look. Well, other Playboy bunnies can too, but "normal folk" just can't. It ends up looking weird. Like that "illusion" that your lips are bigger by putting gloss in between that dip on your upper lip? It really looks like someone splooged on your face and that's the one spot you forgot to clean up. We couldn't change the channel though. So riveting, so very. You can google her and see the perfection that is her classic look. I'd link it, but I have to pee.
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