Category Archives: Life

You’ve Got to Bat Your Eyes…Like This

Growing up, I was a total tomboy. I couldn’t tell you exactly when I became girly, but I suspect it was around prom…because the dresses were pretty.

For a girl, I’m pretty low maintenance. I usually wear eye makeup, but I only use foundation on special occasions. Makeup takes time, and I have no patience. Plus, I never really figured out how to use blush correctly.

When I first heard about eyelash extensions, I thought:

Perfect! Now I won’t have to use mascara. Woo-hoo for 3.14 extra minutes of sleep! Sweet!

Extensions normally cost between $150-200. So I cheaped out, and let my nail salon do them for $60. They fell off the next day.

When I saw that a real salon had an eyelash extension special for $50, I tried one more time.

Now if I can just get rid of the nasty red vein....

Now if I can just get rid of the nasty red vein in my eye….

The picture was taken 2 weeks after my appointment…which means some fell out. You can imagine how awesome they looked when I first got them.

Apparently, I have more eyelashes than the average person, so it took almost 3 hours to put on a full set of lashes (because they put them on one-by-one).

As the technician handed me a mirror, she said, “They’ll be even more dramatic if you put mascara on!”

I could see spiders my lashes in the mirror across the room. No mascara needed.

Now I’m used to them, and I love them. But when I first saw them, I was shocked into girly overload…hence this text conversation:

Me: OMG…These eyelashes make me look like a hooker!

Friend: And you’re worth every penny.

 Kudos to the person who guesses what movie the post title is from.


Make the World a Cooler Place One Popsicle at a Time

During our no-AC-heat-wave the other week, I was extra cranky. Which meant I ate a lot of chocolate.

Starting with a chocolate leftover from Valentine’s Day:

Make someone melt today.

Make someone melt today.

I had to lick the wrapper clean because the chocolate was melty.

Obviously, I got someone else’s chocolate because I was the one who was melting. Jerks….

Annoyed that the chocolate wronged me, I bought popsicles. Worried that they may have melted the second I walked inside, I shoved them in the freezer to refreeze before partaking.

To kill time, I ate another melty chocolate, which said, “Happiness never decreases by being shared.”

Whoa. Maybe that first chocolate was mine. Now I had two choices:

  1. Hoard all of the popsicles and make someone melt today. Bwahahahaha!
  2. Share the popsicles and their freezy goodness.

So I shared the popsicles with my coworkers. After all, the box had 12. So 9 lucky coworkers got popsicles. Yes, I had 3. Don’t judge.

Favorite Comment From Last Post: “Huh. I thought cats needed to be hung to dry. Boy do I feel stupid….”—ttgeorges1123


An Accomplice to Plantslaughter

The Cupcake Dangler brought me a housewarming gift: a plant.

Thoughtsy: Uh-oh…. I mean, Thank you so much!

Cupcake Dangler: Don’t worry. It’s pretty low maintenance, so you can’t kill it.

What the Cupcake Dangler didn’t know was that I can kill anything (BWAHAHAHA!), and he just unknowingly delivered the plant into the hands of death.

It’s a simple equation, but they don’t teach it in math class:

Thoughtsy + Plant = Dead Plant

OR

Thoughtsy > Any Plant’s Will to Live

From the minute that plant entered my apartment, its days were numbered.

Oopsy daisy....

Oopsy daisy….

The first time I killed a plant, I was home from college. My parents went on vacation for a week and said, “Don’t forget to water the plants.”

You know what happened? I forgot to water the plants.*

The day before my parents returned, I ran around with the garden hose spraying water like a madwoman firefighter on anything that looked brown green.

Ever since, I’ve never owned a plant.

Anyways…back to my recent victim. I take 90% of the blame, but the other 10% is Esme’s fault. Initially, I put the plant on my kitchen island. Then Esme started to eat it, so I had to move it to the top of a bookcase…

…right by a vent spewing out hot air…

…in a dark corner of my apartment…

…where I completely forgot about it.

Not long after…the plant was gone.

*I wasn’t totally irresponsible. Although I forgot about the plants, I did take care of everything else: dishes, laundry, brother, cat…disposed of empty liquor bottles.

Favorite Comment From Last Post: “Cleaning up shit is man’s work. If he wants to wear heels while doing so, so be it… but really….”—29 Candles


The Trifecta: Fat, Old, and Small Boobs

This story I’m about to tell all happened within 30 minutes. I shit crap you not. Look. I cussed. You know it’s real.

Recently, I stopped by my old job to visit Matchmaker Coworker. Someone else was there that I hadn’t seen in awhile.

Forever-Single Old Guy: You look…different.

Co-Worker: It’s her eyelashes. She looks cute.

Me: Do I look old? I’m almost 32.

Forever-Single Old Guy: I think you’ve put on a few pounds.

Me: ::mouth drops open::

Forever-Single Old Guy: You filled out. It’s good. You look more…mature.

Me: So I’m fat…and old. Fantastic.

I’ve put on 3 pounds since I worked there. Three pounds. Obviously, it’s 3 pounds of muscle. Grrrr….

After this exchange, I decided to hide in my cubicle for the rest of the day. But back in my new building, I found a bake sale in the lobby.

Unsuspecting-Victim-of-Poor-Timing: Would you like to buy something from our fundraiser?

Me: No, thank you.

Unsuspecting-Victim-of-Poor-Timing: We have healthy stuff, too: fruit, granola bars…water.

Me: Seriously?

Back at my desk, I showed Ddot the t-shirts Matchmaker Coworker and I were wearing for a special event.

We mispelled "Ddot."

We mispelled “Ddot.”

Ddot: So these are Matchmaker’s boobs?

Me: No…. They’re mine.

Ddot: They look….

Me: Too big to be mine. I know. It’s the font.

Ddot: No, the hair…looks like….

Me: Just let it go….

Who knew all of that was possible before 10 AM? That, my friends, is why I blog.

Favorite Comment From Last Post: “I say go with every opportunity. Best case you meet the man of your dreams. Worst case you get a blog post. Ok, almost every opportunity. I just got a random flash of slasher movie still shots.”—Skipping Stones


It’s Spring…and It’s Snowing

5:15 AM: My alarm went off. I hit “Snooze.”

5:25 AM: My alarm went off again. I snoozed it again.

5:35 AM: My alarm went off. I turned it off.

5:50 AM: Craaaaaap. No yoga for me. I just want to go back to sleep!

5:51 AM: Wait…wasn’t it supposed to snow last night?

5:53 AM: I inch my way across the bed to peek out the window and see…

snow

Obviously, I didn’t take this picture at 5:53 AM. I took it at 7:53 AM.

5:54 AM: I call work. There’s a 2-hour delay! Hells yeah! I can go back to sleep!

5:58 AM: I’m still awake. Probably just the excitement of the delay.

6:04 AM: I’m still awake.

6:15 AM: Still awake.

6:22 AM: Still…awake.

6:25 AM: Dammit. Yoga, it is.

Favorite Comment From Last Post: “I never knew whether I should feel complimented or insulted when my cat used to groom me. At least he wasn’t covering me up with sand…”—Bluzdude


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