I realize I’ve been delinquent in my duties here. Like, really bad. Maybe worse than ever before. So it’s probably not the best time to congratulate myself on the fact that this blog came into existence almost exactly two years ago! Despite the fact that I’ve done a less-than-stellar job in recent months, my malformed brainchild maintains a pulse. Continue reading
Oh, hey! How’s your Valentine’s Day going? Are you sick with a bacterial infection, alternately sweating and shivering under four layers of blankets? Are you out with your beau right now drinking a nice Merlot or at home with a tall, refreshing glass of Emergen-C? (I wonder if Emergen-C mixes well with vodka. Will report back.) Do your eyeballs burn so badly that you’ve had to turn your Kindle’s brightness setting down to the lowest level to read that escape from the FLDS cult memoir you’ve been meaning to finish?
That’s been my evening thus far. But you know what, I’m far from bitter. I spent a lovely day working from home, then took a nice little jaunt to CVS for some more cold medicine, and now I’m settling in to watch the highly anticipated second season of House of Cards. Not all bad. And the cherry on top? Doing my nails, of course! Continue reading
There’s a phrase I’ve coined for my own occasional bout of crippling insecurity: “having a moment.” Like my personal heroine above, we all experience this phenomenon at one point or another. It’s natural. But here’s the thing: these feelings should last only a moment. They should be only temporary; nothing but a blip in your day. Acknowledge them– indulge them, even. But then pick yourself up, slap some spackle on your face and go to happy hour. Here are five fool-proof ways to make yourself feel at least 50% better in a time of need. Continue reading
There are few things I hate more than waking up in the morning, bleary eyed and disoriented, and stumbling into the bathroom to stare down my naked, makeup-free face.
Now, I enjoy putting on makeup as much as anyone else who also happens to enjoy it. But one of my complaints about doing so during the work week, at such an early hour, is that it all seems for naught. I follow a pretty strict regimen, but an hour-long commute complete with train-switching and bus-catching can take its toll on all my hard work before I even set foot in the office.
One area that I never have issues with, however, is my eyelashes. I’ve been told since I was thirteen by everyone from dental assistants to bus drivers that I have good lashes. They’re long enough to almost touch my eyebrows, and they curve upward instead of sticking straight without the help of a curler. What all these fools don’t know is that without the help of mascara, my eyelashes are actually thin, sparse, and not very dark—albeit long enough to put in a ponytail. Continue reading