the cupcake tent

I had to get my car inspected and detailed, so the other day I brought it to a gas station near me that does both. (The inside and outside cleaning package is inexplicably called The American Idol. When the guy told me how much it would cost and I reached for my wallet, he knocked the price down $30. Either he’s a really bad negotiator or I intimidate the crap out of people without even trying. I think we all know which one it is. They don’t call me Snake Eyes around these parts for nothin’.)

I knew it would take awhile, so I brought a book, some work, and planted myself at the Dunkin’ Donuts down the street. I also brought a smoothie I’d made at home that morning. Which was, um, in a Starbucks cup. I turned the logo around and hoped for the best. I also texted everyone I know wondering if drinking from a Starbucks cup at Dunkin’ Donuts means that I’m living the American dream or that I’m a coffee shop whore. I think the consensus was mostly for the latter. Incidentally, I still don’t drink coffee. But I think I absorb enough of it through osmosis.

The morning went a little something like this:

A toothless man in a hard hat informs me that he’s getting a cup of coffee. Does he think I work here? I agree that he should. What else could I say? I tend to enthusiastically agree with people if I’m afraid they’ll keep talking to me.

I order a peach iced tea, and the girls behind the counter laugh at the fact that I came in with a Starbucks cup. How did I find the one Dunkin’ in the country with employees that would ever notice this? Also, the iced tea tastes like Strawberry Shortcake’s cat Custard. I don’t know what’s more disturbing, the fact that my drink tastes like scented plastic or that I apparently used to lick my toys.

My mom emails me that my cousin and his fiancee are considering a fog machine for their wedding. I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t enjoy my marriage vows as much if I didn’t feel like I was in the middle of a Whitesnake video. What are the odds that there’ll be a foam party at the reception?

I make sure that I have everything lined up for my Tuesday night dinner that night, and ponder the fact that the dinners have been seeming more elaborate of late: basil and blood orange salad, strawberry mousse in waffle cone bowls, limoncello. Then I realize that I really only took the time to make a special salad because somebody else agreed to be grillmaster, I have endless strawberries because my friend’s kids and I picked crates of them the day before, and I didn’t exactly get the idea for limoncello from roaming the Tuscan countryside; there was an article on msn.com about fun cocktails to serve at barbecues.

Actually, after reading the article I got the idea that it would be fun to make limoncello myself, but after a few clicks on Google I learned that you let lemon rinds and vodka sit for a few weeks. So thank you, local liquor store, because when I want my alcohol I want it five minutes ago.

Anyway, this is what my morning at Dunkin’ Donuts taught me about Western culture: Everyone looks at the menu despite knowing what they want when they walk in. Men start their order with, “Uh, yeah, can I get…” and women start with, “Hi, can I have…” Iced coffee is popular (this just in!). No one ordered a donut. I predict that in the next few years, they’ll follow in the footsteps of FedEx and the Devil Rays and just become Dunkin’.

My car is fully rehabilitated. But now I kind of want a cruller.

I have an alarm system for my condo, but I don’t like to use it. (What’s up robbers, see you at 3 AM!) The problem is that anytime it goes off, it’s so freakin’ LOUD. I admit, it’s not really a compelling reason, but you try being woken up in the dead of night by the sound of screaming banshees fleeing hell, only to find it was faulty wiring or “a glitch in the system, who knows.” And not to tempt fate, but I live in one of the top ten safest cities in the country. Our people are too busy haggling with a CVS employee over the price of the newspaper (oh yes, I’ve seen it) to be bothered busting into your home and tearing shit up.

So when my alarm went off early on Saturday morning (6 AM is early when you were up late the night before!) I was understandably confused. It’s just messing with me now, right? How does an alarm that isn’t on go off? All of a sudden it feels very Socratic. In any case, I have to shut that bad boy off.

I should also mention that the electricity had gone out, which almost never happens, and when I checked, my home phone line was dead. Can you imagine if this had happened in the middle of the night? I’d just have to accept the fact that I was now the unwitting opening act for a horror movie. My only next step would’ve been to creep outside (in a flowing nightgown and lantern) to make sure everything was okay.

Anyway, the “reset” button shuts the bitch up. I call my alarm company to politely inquire as to what the deal is, i.e. WAHH IT’S EARLY. The guy isn’t sure (are they ever?) but tells me he thinks the alarm was just letting me know that my phone line went out. So, wait, my phone line and my non-activated alarm are in cahoots? On some level this makes sense, but on another level, it’s 6 AM on a Saturday and I can’t think properly. Damn you Sonsie and your fabulous wine list, I need my brain cells right now.

I go back to sleep, and half an hour later it goes off again. Me and my R.E.M. cycle were not happy. I reacted to this with decorum* and poise and not at all like I had just been told that a giant gorilla was going to eat me whole. This time I got One Of Those Customer Service People. God, is there anything worse? She wisely suggested that I turn it off. I tried to tell her that I apparently couldn’t turn the alarm off, because it was making noise despite already being off. She suggested again that I turn it off. Then she told me that she’d transfer me over to tech support and I could leave a message for them. “No, wait, I don’t want to leave them a message and hear back on Monday afternoon. My alarm is going off right now and waking everybody up and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Everybody” included me and my friend sleeping in the guest room, who by all accounts seemed to still be fast asleep. But still. It’s the principle!

Luckily the guy who runs the alarm place called me back and helped me out. I went back to sleep, but not before checking the news on my blackberry. Uma Thurman is engaged, something about a Vern Troyer sex tape (wha?)…but nothing about Local Woman Woken Up Early, Totally Pissed. I suspect they’re waiting to get all the facts before running the full investigative report.

In any case, this only further solidifies my theory that technology is ruining our lives. And by our I mean mine.

*I haven’t thought of or used the word “decorum” since Kristy had to write an essay on its importance in one of the Babysitters Club books.

There are many existential, philosophical debates during these frenetic, technologically progressive times. One of the most poignant, perhaps, is: What’s the saddest thing you could have in your shopping cart at the grocery store?

For me there was only one answer: The half pie, of course. The half pie has held some combination of reverence and mystique for me for years. I mean, let’s face it, you’re not going anywhere with that baby but in front of your TV. I have to say, I admire its honesty, as well as that of the person buying it. We’ve all bought things exclusively for ourselves (hello, I’m not buying Halloween candy on October 1st because I’m really, really prepared), and when the cashier rings us up and comments, “WOW, you must be having a HUGE PARTY,” we laugh nervously and in an attempt to validate the story end up inviting her to come, only to spend the rest of the evening hiding in our apartment with the lights out and hoping Hi My Name Is Jody Ask Me About Our Double Coupons will just go away. Or is that just me?

So, the half pie. Unequivocally the saddest thing you could have in your cart, right? But then I posed the question to the peoples of my world and heard tantalizing add-ons like cold sore cream, a big box of cookies and a case of Slim Fast…and then:

Kate: A single slice of birthday cake, of course. While you stand in line and sing quietly, “Happy birthday to me…”

Me: Oh, man, that’s good. And you get caught shoplifting one candle because you didn’t want to buy the entire pack.

So now I open the question up to you, internets: If you can top our ideas for the saddest thing you can have in your shopping cart, I’ll declare you king or queen of (ironical) supermarket sadness. And then I’ll send you pictures of me buying the items, sobbing in the produce section. It may not be pretty, but who would turn down a free half pie?

I haven’t been able to blog for, oh, the past month because every time I’d log onto WordPress, my computer would freeze up. Boo. Although I was sad that I couldn’t feed my insatiable habit of writing about nothing, my laziness and short attention span joined forces to ensure that I kinda forgot about it until today. Ahh, the unexamined life. I never tire of it.

Just a few hours after I pleaded for help on the message boards, a kindly woman in customer support (virtual fist bump coming your way, Hanni) suggested that I upgrade my current browser or use a different browser (which is apparently not a “different internet,” as I initially relayed her advice). And a few seconds after chastising myself for not thinking of that sooner, poof! Here I am!

Since we’ve last spoken, here’s a short list of the things that I’ve been excited about:

-Neutrogena Fresh Cooling Body Mist sunblock (in SPF 70, of course, enabling the undead to venture outside in the sunlight). It’s a mist! And it’s fresh! And cooling! All right, my point is that it’s not thick and gloppy and it WORKS, people. Go out and get yourself some, all right?

-Seasons one and two of Dexter, which I watched back to back despite the fact that they gave me sympathetic serial killer dreams. It is so, so good.

-Blue curacao margaritas, which I’ve finally mastered the recipe for. Ole, bitches!

-My patio, my sweet, wonderful, happy patio, which used to be a festering collection of dead furniture, but is now a blissful little oasis. Okay, it’s a blissful little oasis situated on a slab of concrete, but an oasis nonetheless! Its rebirth was like a freakin’ barn raising: A (very, very patient) friend built my new furniture, grill, and put up cute lights, and another spent hours planting flowers with me (geraniums and impatiens, thanks for asking. It’s the most domestic I’ve ever been). Green mosaic candle and margarita placemats and napkins from Crate and Barrel and I’m one happy, grilling, watering can-owning girl. Also, a little drunk. It’s summer! Yay!  I’ve been a little giddy over the start of summer this year.  It’s like a party on a slab of concrete, people.

Anyway, I can think of no better way to celebrate my doddering return to the internet than to debut the second installment of Crazy Shit That People Google And Then Land Here At The Tent.

“myers brigg and mr. big”

I’ve often wondered if Mr. Big is an INFP, or perhaps an ESTJ. Whatever he is, I curse the day he was born! Speaking of, what did we think of the movie? I enjoyed it. And the entire thing can be summed up in four words, and they have nothing to do with friendship or love: Charlotte pooped her pants.

“ferret rights”

Under my dictatorship, there are none. None!

“cupcake shampoo”

Hmmm… would that really be a good thing to have? I’m sure Philosophy makes it, if you can’t be dissuaded.

“putting words on cupcakes”

Frosting pen. Come on, Betty Crocker.

“words that rhyme with tent”

Sent, bent, went, dent, comment, urgent, parent, Lent, dissident, Heat of the Moment…

“other names for silly putty”

Why, is there a need? Is silly putty played out?

“people who google shit”

If it’s a crime, then I plead guilty as charged. One of my students did a google image search for “poop.” Let’s just say I don’t recommend following suit.

“wear sunscreen, no subtitles”

Ahh, my philosophy in life AND how I like my movies.

“monster mini golf”

If you haven’t been, you should go! So much fun.

“is luke skywalker married to princesa leia”

Dude.

“can schizophrenia make you feel cloudy”

Sometimes, my friend. Sometimes.

I started a new blog! This news probably doesn’t warrant an exclamation point, but there it is anyway. It’s a branch of the Tent, not a replacement. Guess what it’s about?

a. Man’s struggle for meaning in a world rife with strife.

b. How the world can’t really be all that rife with strife because those words rhyme, and everyone knows that things that rhyme are adorable.

c. Funny shit my students say.

You can find it here.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be boycotting the internet until I see the Sex movie next week in order to avoid any spoilers. I want each and every one of Carrie’s puns to be a delightful surprise. Happy weekend, party people!

I usually drive when I go to New York, and NOW I KNOW WHY.

This weekend I decided to give the Chinatown bus a shot. At $30 roundtrip, the price was right. The idea of not having to remain conscious for the trip, pay for gas, or deal with parking was definitely appealing as well. Yes, they overbooked and I had to take a later bus than I had planned for, but the conversation that I had with an adorable third grader while in line pretty much made up for it. (You can’t not love someone who says, a minute after meeting you, “I have a High School Musical 2 sticker book. Do you want to see it?”)

Everything was mostly fine until we stopped at a Burger King in Connecticut for a bathroom break. I was walking back out to the bus when I saw it pulling away. The. Bus. Was. Pulling. AWAY.

My immediate solution to this problem was to point at the driver and say, “What? No!” This may be why I wasn’t cast in Speed. (”There’s a bomb on the bus! You need to keep it above fifty!” “What? No!”)

Then several other passengers came out behind me and said similar things in various languages. The driver noticed us and kind of waved us away, as if to say, “WHAT? Don’t bother me.” Then he started backing up, and it became clear that he had just been moving the bus. But, seriously? Would it have killed you to tell us ahead of time that you might need to drive aimlessly around the parking lot? When you move the bus, every single passenger thinks you’re stranding them at a Burger King in another state, and there is no one for whom that isn’t a terrifying situation. The plastic-faced king is scary enough. And I still don’t understand what chicken fries are!

And I know it’s probably just icing on the mentally unstable cake that we’re baking here, but since I was a kid I’ve actually had a recurring dream about missing a bus. It’s usually a school bus, and I have no idea why I periodically dream about it, but the fact remains. Now, nobody’s asking the bus driver to delve into my subconscious here, but I’m just saying, that little stunt in the Burger King parking lot is not exactly going to help me sleep well at night.

Aside from that, the rest of the trip was great: Friends (including Kate, who - plug! - has a hilarious new blog, as well as a dear blogfriend that you all know and love, DarrenMcITriedToConvinceHimToBlogAgain), dinner in Little Italy, homemade guac and blue margaritas in the West Village, ridiculously perfect weather, and the indisputable reality that New York is way too cool for me. And that I may never see a fast food place without having abandonment issues again.

I was actually starting to think that I had finally entered the elusive realm of the technologically savvy with my new Blackberry. I mean, when you can receive emails in your car, can the silver jumpsuit and flying car be far behind?

One of my high school friends is getting married in Denmark over the summer, which is another way of saying that I will not be attending the blessed event. Her little sister emailed that she’s putting together a montage of well wishes from friends, and asked if I’d make a “little video, just a minute or two.”

A video? With, like, a…uh…camcorder? I know I’m thirty years old and all but HOW DO I MAKE A VIDEO? Also, a minute or two is kind of a long time; after the five seconds it takes for “I love you! Congratulations!”, I may need to sing a song or something. And something tells me there is vast double chin potential. Whatever happened to registering at Williams-Sonoma? What says love more than a stainless steel panini press?

So, yeah, I finally realized that no matter how much I fool myself with portable communication devices, I’m just not living in the future that Marty McFly promised me. If you need me, I’ll be in the corner swaying along to Earth Angel and avoiding the Libyans.

The entire Crate and Barrel summer catalog: Green mosaic hurricane candle holders, bottle-glass green summer glasses, Ruovikko seaglass bedding… um, notice a theme? Coveting green in spring, how innovative. I told you I’m a marketer’s dream.

The current cover of Rolling Stone with The Hills girls, which let’s just say I won’t be throwing away anytime soon. I know, I know, but what can I say? Those trashy girls make me go a little gay. (Except for Lauren. She’s like everyone’s annoying ex-girlfriend.)

Movies! I saw Forgetting Sarah Marshall twice and lah-hoved it. If Superbad and The 40 Year Old Virgin were up your alley, this will be too. I agreed to see Iron Man and ended up totally loving it. It was a perfect summer movie, and Robert Downey Jr. is such a pimp (he IS). Gwyneth Paltrow was in it too. Are action movies becoming the new indie flick? And of course there’s Indiana Jones, the Sex movie, and a new Will Ferrell movie, which I can usually take or leave, but I love him paired with John C. Reilly (”Why do you need to have the stereo and the TV on at the same time?” “Because I like to party.”). Also, do you know that movie theaters now have self-serve butter? It really walks that fine line between completely genius and totally gross. Between all that and the free air-conditioning, I can tell that I’ll be spending a lot of time there this summer.

Sabra hummus. Like most people on the planet I enjoy but don’t spend much time thinking about hummus. I only buy it when I’ll be putting out apps or something. But for some reason a work friend randomly told me to try Sabra. I was at the grocery store after work that day and noticed they had it so I picked some up and, um, YUM. It’s like regular hummus’s superhot older sister. For reals. I mean, how often do I blog so enthusiastically about chickpeas?

My summer job. Once the school year ends I’ll be spending two days a week seeing my students and two days with my friend’s 10 and 8-year-old, which means swimming and mini-golf and day trips. I considered the whole 30-year-old babysitter thing for a second, and then thought, fuck it, what a break from the routine, bring on the sno-cones!

Getting back into cooking, especially for friends, but also just in general. It seems natural that this picks up more in the spring, when there’s more last-minute gatherings and open windows and longer sunlight. I’m more relaxed and confident with cooking than last year at this time, which makes it more fun. I should get back into the Tuesday night cooking thing. My next mission is grilling. First up: Buy a grill. Actually, does anyone have any suggestions for outdoor grills? I saw the George Foreman outdoor grill at Linens and Things for a decent price and then realized that I actually have no idea what I’m looking for, or what kind of grill is any good. I’ll round up a guy friend or two to help, since they come out of the womb with endless opinions on barbecued meat, but if you have any thoughts on the matter (or any other matter, really), they’d be very welcome.

You know that whole thing about Boston drivers being mean? I can definitely fit that bill now and then. I’ve been one to throw my hands in the air (the universal sign for “seriously, what the FUCK”) at another driver and use my horn to punctuate that sentiment. I’ve been known to pull out and block a line of cars in order to make a left. I’ve flipped someone off for flipping ME off for cutting THEM off. And ohmygodIknow it’s childish. When else during the day would you be so irrational? It’s the equivalent of someone cutting you in line at drugstore and instead of saying “Oh, excuse me, I think I was next,” you PUNCH THEM. I don’t know what it is, but driving can bring out a kind of regional bipolar disorder.

Having said all that, I think I’ve now taken it to the next level.

So the other night I was meeting a couple friends for dinner and drinks in the next town. There’s a particular parking lot that I always try to get a spot in because it’s right next to the bars, and I don’t like anything standing between me and my chardonnay whiskey. But apparently a bunch of other Tuesday night alchies had the same idea because when I got there the lot was packed. But I was still motivated to prowl around and somehow find a way to stake out some prime real estate.

I thought I’d found a spot when I realized another car had already claimed it. As he pulled in, I noticed his Virginia license plate. Hmmm, a Southerner. They’re supposed to be nice, right? Suddenly I found an evil, evil plot forming in my head. I may have even twisted the edges of my mustache.

The driver glanced back at me, and I pointed to the space that he had just pulled into and mouthed, “That’s my spot.” I’m sure he assumed it was because I lived in the apartment building that also shares that parking lot, and I didn’t clarify. He immediately mouthed that he was sorry and pulled out. We waved at each other, he drove away, and I pulled in. I got someone to leave a coveted parking space so I could have it. But at what cost to my SOUL, people?

There’s signs all over the highway about how state troopers are keeping an eye out for aggressive drivers. They should probably also be on the lookout for those who engage in ruthless psychological warfare. I told the story to my custodian buddy at work (with whom I soldified a friendship back when, after having known each other for a few weeks and asking him if I kept my room cleaner than others, he told me I was “neat but controversial”). He said, “I bet you slept well.”

So, yeah, bottom line, I know I was wrong, Virginia. I humbly apologize to you for that, and, you know, hope this isn’t the spark that ignites the next Civil War or, um, whatever. No hard feelings?

It started innocently enough when my friend Melissa wrote an entry about Boots products. I commented and then she asked what products I’m liking these days. Most of you know I’m a product junkie and all I needed was an invitation. So game on!

I’ve been loving perfume more than ever before, although I only wear it to bed or when I’m home. I don’t know, I guess I don’t think perfume would work for me on a daily basis; anytime I smell it on someone it’s rarely subtle, and I don’t want to be One Of Those People. (I work with a teacher who wears the Britney Spears perfume, which isn’t overly vile, and when anyone asks her what it is, she says “It’s actually Britney Speahs.” For some reason I think it’s adorable.) Anyway, it’s probably all the chasing around after kids and being sneezed on that forces me into practicality. Maybe if I had a more elegant job, wearing heels and calling my boss Mister? I think I just made myself a 1950s-era administrative assistant. Um, yeah, so…I love Prada’s Infusion d’Iris, Stella McCartney’s Stella, and Dolce and Gabbana’s Light Blue, all of which are very summery, especially the last one. Although if you’re into a straight up day-at-the-beach-in-a-bottle, you’ll love anything from the Bobbi Brown beach line. I also kinda like the Guess by Marciano perfume, and when I went into one of the Guess stores to check it out a couple weeks ago, they had a big basket of samples. Um, thank you, I really appreciate it, but it’s not exactly a shrewd business move. Samples last forever, I took two, and now GUESS WHAT, I’ll never have to buy the perfume.

Despite my love for Dove soap, they’ve been on some kind of Tahitian exotic flower kick lately, and I like my soap to be soap. I’ve been really into Softsoap’s Pure Cashmere and exfoliating spa body washes for awhile, particularly the former. I buy it again and again, which is rare for a philandering product tramp like me. I use Oil of Olay’s calm release body wash and Philosophy’s Gratitude pomegranate shower gel (these used to be called 3-in-1s) post-gym. I don’t know if it’s still meant as a shampoo but I use it as one so I’m not overwashing my hair. I haven’t been using scrubs lately but will be soon since it’s more of a spring/summer thing for me. I still really like Bath and Body Works’ I’m in the Mood for Scrub.

Kerastase Nutritive bain satin shampoo and lait vital conditioner is the best stuff that you’ll ever put in your hair, although I have no idea what any of those words mean. Fresh soda shampoo and meadowfoam conditioner work great, but I don’t love how they smell, and they’re expensive, so I use them sparingly. I like Big Sexy Hair, and a big thank you to the Sexy Hair company for naming your product something so ridiculous and printing it in such ginormous words on the bottle that anytime I buy it I feel like I’m announcing to CVS that I WANT TO BE SEXY PLEASE HELP ME BE SEXY. Garnier Fructis is nice too. It has that fresh, clean, simple, yummy shampoo smell that I wish they all had. Actually, that’s the kind of scent I wish I could find in a perfume, but it doesn’t exist, wah.

I love my La Mer body creme, which is a toss-up when it comes to practicality: It’s ridiculously expensive, but it comes in a huge jar and lasts for like a year, and it’s just so freakin’ good. I also love Dove cream oil body lotion. I use both every day. I like Kiehl’s creme de corps for hand lotion and Johnson’s dreamy night cream before bed.

For about a year I’ve been using Clinique’s superdefense moisturizer for dry to very dry skin. It’s the longest that I’ve ever been faithful to a face moisturizer, and anytime I’ve strayed over the past year I’ve always come back, so I guess it’s love. I use it in the morning. At night I use Creme de La Mer, which, again, is too expensive but really does work well and last forever. Plus I want people to keep saying “You’re thirty?!” (and I know it’s just a courtesy comment that people throw at you but let me tell you, I will gladly take that bone and eat it right up) and somehow I’m convinced that Creme de La Mer will keep me young and dewy, or something. Man, I’m a marketing copy writer’s wet dream. My mom just gave me the Bobbi Brown tinted moisturizer (in extra light, of course) which is a moisturizer and foundation in one. I like it and I’ll probably end up using it all summer when I want to throw on a little coverage and go. But at the end of the day, my heart still belongs to Bare Escentuals.

Ahh, Bare Escentuals. If you’re not on board with it yet, then what the hell is wrong with you? I mean, um, you should try it. It’s the best makeup I’ve ever used, and it makes your skin look damn near perfect with minimal effort. I use the foundation in fair and mineral veil every day. Their eye makeup is awesome. I have the smoky and foiled eye kits and LOVE them. They have lots of colors that work for daytime too, like one called well-rested that just literally makes you look awake and pretty. The whole line is just the best.

Other eye stuff: I use Clinique’s naturally glossy mascara in jet brown. I’m convinced it’s the perfect mascara. I also use MAC’s eye pencil in taupe. At night I love Clinque’s cream shaper in Egyptian.

Also, keep in mind that when I say “every day,” I’m of course referring to the days that I bother with all this, which is most of the ones that I’m working or will otherwise be seeing people, but when I’m just hanging out with friends I’m lucky if I rock the deodorant. (Um, just kidding?) And “at night” is not something I’m wearing on the nights when I’m on the couch in yoga pants (although I haven’t done yoga since college) eating Take the Cake and watching Rock of Love. (Which I heard Richie Sambora is going to be on next season. Squee!)

Anyway…what else? Okay, let’s discuss my mouth. Yes, I heard what I just said (um, read what I just wrote) but don’t judge me! I’ll write about politics and literature next week, I promise. I’m not really a lipstick girl. I wear Blistex lip tone like it’s my job. It’s the best stuff ever. I keep it in my bag, on my bathroom counter, and in both of my work desks, and whenever I see it in a store, which is rare, I buy ten of them, or I’ll periodically order them from drugstore.com (I love that site, don’t you?). I love Clinique’s almost lipstick in black honey, which is another one that I buy again and again. Despite looking dark in the tube, it’s very neutral and would look good on anyone. Benetint lip balm, MAC lip glass in viva glam, and Philosophy’s big mouth are all fun to play with, too.

Other random stuff: I’ve used Cetaphil facial cleanser for years and love it. Almay oil-free eye makeup remover pads work great, even when removing gallons of slutty blue eyeshadow and liner after the 80s prom that I went to a few weeks ago (yeah, that probably warranted a blog entry). I like the Venus Embrace. I carry a little pink Purell (I only like the pink one and it’s hard to find) and a mini Nivea smooth sensation lotion in my bag. I sometimes have trouble finding my keys, but my hands are clean and soft, damn it.

Throw in a little generic Ortho Tri-Cyclen and Wellbutrin and you’ve got my daily routine down. Was that oversharing? Oh well, apparently that’s just what I do, after all.