Makeup Look: I’m Not Really an Egyptian

(Apparently legally required disclaimer: None of the products mentioned in this post were provided to me by any company for review purposes, and there are no affiliate links. One product was acquired through a giveaway, and the rest were either purchased with my own money, were samples included with other purchases, or were gifts from fellow non-company human beings.)

As you probably don’t know, I started taking cosmetology classes this semester. In the first class (which just ended), students formed groups, and we had to do a presentation about an assigned era’s cosmetology as well as fashion and such. Our group got Ancient Egypt, which is pretty lucky because…what hasn’t been said about Egypt? Our presentation was due Monday last week, so for the occasion, I woke up early to put on some themed (but not historically accurate, because that would be too easy) makeup. Because of something about my luck, our teacher was out sick and the presentations postponed. We finally presented it this Monday with some further, technical difficulties, but I didn’t want to do the makeup all over again, or really any at all.  Here are the terrible phone pictures I was able to get! Click to enlarge them.

And now here’s a list of the products used, with links to where you can buy or learn about them (if they’re currently available): Continue reading

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What’s Living Without Motivation Like?

Great question, hypothetical reader!

First, I want to share with you the inspiration for this post: struggling to help people understand [my] mental illness. Second, I want to share with you these two posts by Allie Brosh about her depression. Her posts have cute, funny drawings and mine probably won’t, so I urge you to read them. Third, I don’t expect that this post will be very well-written or -composed, but my thoughts aren’t either so maybe they’re a good representation of my state of mind.

Depression and anxiety are not the same for everyone. No disease, not even those that are well-understood by the general public, is. However, they do have certain criteria associated with them, most notably those in the American Psychiatric Association’s Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (incidentally, DSM-5 was published last year while I was taking a psychology class). For me, they influence my daily life, despite medication and therapy. They create a vicious cycle of not doing things, worrying about not doing things, and being too freaked-out to do things. Basic routines normal people complete every day–bathing, tooth-brushing, changing clothes, running errands, sleeping at night, leaving the house–can’t be taken for granted. If something doesn’t take near-zero effort to get done, it probably won’t.

I’m not an incredibly busy person; I don’t actually have a lot on my plate. So my reasons for not being able to clear it can sound a lot like excuses…not that I don’t make excuses, but I’m not always trying to excuse my behavior. I keep my portions small on purpose; if they were much bigger, I would be too overwhelmed to even touch, nay, look at my food. Even if my absolute favorite food ever in the entire universe is on that plate, I don’t always get around to it. (This is actually a bad metaphor, because food is one of the few things that does motivate me, which sucks because I’m already overweight.) At the moment and in general, my responsibilities/to-do list include giving my dog a bath, getting my sleep cycle back to normal, washing my bedding, filing my nails, putting away clothes, studying for my chemistry class, doing homework for my cosmetology class, cleaning my room, trimming my hair, exfoliating my face, posting here about the dozens of things I’ve swatched and photographed in the last two years, washing dishes, going to the gym at the very least once a week, hear/read/watch countless classics, trying on jeans I ordered online, making my boyfriend put aloe vera gel on his sunburn, and so many other chores I wish did themselves. In contrast, the things I can almost always bother to do include sleeping when it’s least convenient, checking blogs, reading reddit, finding something not horrible on TV, snuggling with my cat, and going to the bathroom no more than a few times a day (I included this to emphasize how utterly lazy I am that I have become an expert at “holding it in”).

Not having any of the fucks required to get shit done means being really disappointed in myself, and afraid and ashamed that others are disappointed in me as well. I can’t fathom what kind of monster happy pills I would have to be on to have a job as well as go to school. Right now I’m doing okay, I’m about a quarter of the way through a semester, but toward the last few weeks of a course I invariably slip at least a bit. Procrastinating on studying and homework means rushing the night before class to learn what I may have missed when I was too anxious to attend lecture a week ago, and not being fully prepared for the exam on Tuesday, so when I remember that I have to finish that worksheet I get an anxiety attack and put it away so I can calm down and minutes, hours, days pass and nothing actually got done, despite all my worrying. Everything crescendos into a tsunami that I can’t possibly run away from and I don’t know how to swim through.

Obviously productivity fails me. But also, I haven’t had a real social life in years, which is funny, because in high school I thought I didn’t have a social life. Little did I know how much worse it could get! (Retrospect sucks.) I struggle not just to make new friends, but to keep in touch with my old ones. The only person I keep in regular contact with is my boyfriend, who practically lives with me. When the opportunity to socialize does present itself, it’s hard to come up with conversation that’s not completely awkward, unrelatable, and irrelevant. A lot of times when I sense incoming normal human interaction, I end up averting eye contact and yawning (hey, it works) so I don’t have to put in the effort. It really shouldn’t require “effort,” but damn, it does. “Socializing” on the Internet can even be hard, because I see people who are more successful, beautiful, funny, and liked than I am, and instead of being inspired (which would actually have a positive effect, which we can’t have, nope), I become jealous and self-loathing and sometimes I seriously consider deactivating my Facebook account.

So as to not make this post completely pitiful, because depression shouldn’t be communicable: I do actually go to the gym. Usually begrudgingly, and less often now that I have to semi-focus on school, but it happens. I do cardio and squat and lift weights and use machines I still find strange and amusing. My biceps are more toned, my butt is bigger, I don’t suck at breathing as much, and I’m stronger than ever before. Since March 8th I’ve also kept track of what I eat, because I’ve been slowly, but surely, ballooning over the years. It’s not really a diet–I eat the same terrible-for-me things–but I eat less and am aware of what I’m putting into my body…most of the time; a lot of foods are infuriatingly difficult to find accurate nutritional information for. If you’re curious, I go to LA Fitness wearing this or this (all three of which I do recommend), and use this app (which often pisses me off so I don’t really recommend it, but it’s what I use). Yay being marginally healthier.

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It’s been a while! Like over a year. Sorry about that, anyone who stuck around for some reason or another. I’m lazier than ever and wish Big Pharma would invent the motivation pill, but they haven’t yet. So here’s a quick post on things that don’t suck.

I started going to the gym in early September. I haven’t lost any weight or done anything impressive like that (because my horrible diet hasn’t changed at all), but I go to the gym now. It’s not always terrible and I might be slightly healthier, who knows.

I decided to start taking cosmetology (specifically, esthetics) classes. I’m pretty sure, like 90%, that I want to be a professional makeup artist. I’m only just taking my first, introductory class, but I’m working on a definite career path now. Also, the nice lady behind Pixel’s Polish is in my class, and she is probably the main reason why I revamped my own blog and started writing this post…because she runs a blog while being married, becoming a nail tech, and changing her nail polish more often than once a trimester. SO INSPIRATIONAL.

Kiki, my cat, has progressively made herself more comfortable in our house. Kiki’s story is a long one for another post that might never get written, but yeah, she’s lying next to me and she’s adorable.

Sam is my boyfriend and we had a second anniversary in January. We ate burgers. He doesn’t make me vomit and he tolerates my hair experimentation.

Here are a couple of makeup looks I did in the past few months! Feel free to click on them to enlarge, because they’re huge. For product lists, click here and here (the albums in those posts have some additional photos and information, as well as better layouts…sorry, WordPress).









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Things You Learn from Watching Cartoon Network Every Day

Image1. Advertising geared toward children and their exhausted parents is annoying and relentless.

2. Nostalgia, like most trends, is cyclical.

  • 2a. Some franchises—Scooby-Doo, Looney Tunes, DC heroes, and apparently Furby—just won’t die.
  • 2b. The balance of shitty and excellent shows is basically the same.
  • 2c. There are still lots of games to play online. (I was fond of a Powerpuff Girls snowboarding game many years ago. With some searching, I was able to find it! Fast and Flurrious.)

3. “Sexy” and female cleavage feature sometimes in the more “mature” shows, Regular Show and Adventure Time, which is initially shocking. But in retrospect, The Ren & Stimpy Show was ridiculously worse.

  • 3a. The male mammaries that are shown are far more disturbing.

4. The Adult Swim lineup definitely used to be better.

  • 4a. Not enough of Adult Swim’s games are available on Android.
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Slim Pickings

Sometimes I feel like the only adult who’s a picky eater. It seems like a description usually reserved for children throwing tantrums in restaurants, and while I’ve been this way for as long as I can remember, I still have quite the narrow palette.

It’s pretty embarrassing to have frequent internal debates about something as basic as food: Do I say something about the food to the person who prepared it, or do I find a way to quietly, discreetly dispose of/waste it? To speak up about a dish’s relative inedibility is not only potentially offensive, but feels like a confession of a strange, juvenile flaw.

Being a picky eater is like having OCD in your mouth (and nose). Smell, taste, texture, and temperature can’t be too far from perfect without inducing gagging. It’s almost akin to (but, obviously, nowhere near as serious or devastating as) an eating disorder. It’s enough to worry whether my mouth is going to be like this forever. There are some damn good-looking foods I can’t bear to taste, and I feel like I’m missing out. Hell, it’d be nice to just not have to order everything “plain” (something that gets fucked up way too often).

Am I the only one out there who eats like someone a third their age??

p.s. I have a really long winter break. Two months long. That’s probably enough time to edit a set of photos.

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YOLO Is Fucking Ludicrous

I jumped on the bandwagon of telling people my own age to get off my lawn a long time ago. Here, we continue driving.

You Only Live Once…unless you’re Hindu. But then, you’re probably not too concerned with coming up with excuses for partying; you’re too busy writing poems for cows. And even if you’re not Hindu, you might believe in some form of everlasting life. But I digress.
YOLO is the current bane of my young existence. These fucking kids, man. You actually don’t need a motive to have fun beside the fact that it’s fun per se. What are you trying to prove, and to who? It’s not a valid reason for anything except You Only Die Once.

Continue reading

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Swatch Skittles: Wet n Wild and Revlon

Pinkie—index: The polishes referenced in the title. Thumb: 207 by Inglot over Macbeth by Butter London; lighting: ambient indoors

So I finally got around to buying more stuff to swatch (makeup is expensive and food is more fulfilling in the short term, okay?). I ended up with three nail polishes today from CVS, and a while ago two nail polishes that I completely forgot to swatch from Rite Aid, and now that I think about it, two more polishes from Rite Aid that I never posted my swatches of. Crap. Well, I’m not changing the title now.

[time lapse while I edit photos] Oh, yeah. This is going to be long and picture-heavy. (Isn’t it always?) Continue reading

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Bits of Interest

Here are a few posts and articles that’ve caught my eye recently. Enjoy!


Breasts according to Beauty Woo Me (as an owner of boobs, I approve of Kate Upton)

PARTY HARD via the L.A. Times (I went to this show…everything said in the article is true. And I got a drumstick out of it)

MAC’s By Request collection at Temptalia and Scrangie (I already know what I want. Now, to get money)

Sephora + Pantone = an orange-er theNotice (graphic design and makeup in one!)

Bucholz continues to be insane over at Cracked (comedy writing is now my dream job)

Models are tortured souls, admits theNotice (I guess it could be worse)

ReBeLs knows their colors: Swatches at Scrangie and All Lacquered Up (I have been looking for that perfect blue forever—IKB:2012 is the one)

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Dogs and Cats: Pros and Cons, Comparing and Contrasting, and Other Parallels and Perpendiculars

I found this collecting dust with my unpublished, unfinished rough drafts. It’s a few months old, so some of it’s a bit passé, but I decided to polish it up. If you want more of this type of writing, I highly recommend Cracked.

In the interest of transparency, I would like to preface this debate [with myself] by saying that I am a well-established “dog person.” Let the transcripts show it. (Is that what they say in court? I haven’t watched Judge Judy, People’s Court, et cetera since my family got cable in 2009 Thanksgiving. That’s how old this post was, y’all.) I will try to not let this affect my journalistic attempts to chronicle the virtues and vices of canines and felines. (Does “and” have any synonyms? I feel as if I think I know I’m being redundant.)
Now, to retcon any and, especially, all fair and balanced coverage promises: Dogs are fuckin’ awesome. Shit, yo. They need their own overenthusiastic advertisement.

Dogs. Do I even need to tell you why they’re humans’ best friends? Just look at the word “dog.” (No, not because it’s “God” backwards, pamphlet-giver.) Now say it. Now look back to “dog.” This is the word “cat” could be, but isn’t, because cats smell terrible. My point is, “cat” is a fucking asshole of a word. “Dog” is laid-back and chill as fuck. You have to contort your face to say “cat,” with its sharp consonants and annoying vowel; not so with “dog.” Just say it, then lay back in your armchair and relax. Smooth, like silk. (Or a dog’s coat. ‘Cuz you can wash it.)

You, the reader who has few social skills and even fewer friends, interject [rudely]: “Of course cats are assholes. They’re independent and smart and skilled predators. Dogs just lay around and chase their tails and chew their balls.”
Well, reader–I, for one, am offended by your blatant disregard for potheads’ cultural customs. Regardless, cats aren’t even “smarter” than dogs (thanks for including sources for your information).
As for your cat being a skilled predator…. What, for more feline marijuana? You hypocrites disgust me. At any rate, you know what being skilled predators makes them? Ninja. Utterly deplorable.

Now that I have established that dogs are lovable pirates with eensy, adorable, peg legs, let me denounce cats further, because I felt the need to segue into the exact same topic.

Cats are quite simply not as cute as dogs. No bullshit, straight-up, 100% pure, uncut cocaine.

Catnip is a gateway drug.

Have you seen those cats with the flat faces? My God. They’re not adorable, they’re fucking pitiful. Upon glancing at them, I almost want to put them out of their teary-eyed misery, just so no one has to clean their inbred faces again. Also, tigers (which are cats) are one of two mammalian species whose young are less cute than the adults. The other species? Kangaroos, because kangaroo babies are still alien jelly bean fetuses attached to monumentally long nipples (the hentai I had to sit through to find that). Anyway, fuck cats.

So, to play Devil’s advocate (Al Pacino, not Keanu Reeves), why are cats cool? Because they are evil. Pure motherfucking undercover evil. Now, almost everyone I reveal this to thinks I am crazy, so let me present this simplistic argument to your simple mind: Do Bond villains have pet dogs? No, they damn well do not. They simply do not. Who did the ancient Egyptians, oppressors of Moses and possibly Jesus Himself, worship? Cats. (Who do Hindus worship? Cows, who are very obvious in their wish to greenhouse us with farts, which is adorable indirect.)

And, what is bad about dogs? Let me rack my brain.

If you don’t take care of them, they suffer, and you feel guilty forever.

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My Favorite Cosmetics

Title is self-explanatory. Coming to you live (not) from my small (for a blogger) collection, here are photos and descriptions of my favorite products! Note that these are what work for me, not necessarily for you. Links lead to a product’s page on its company’s website.

Continue reading

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