Friday, July 20, 2007

Go forth, and shop

Nordstrom's Anniversary Sale. I love it! If I could fuck an entire store, this would be the one.

Wednesday, July 18, 2007

Limerick Wednesday

This morning I looked in the mirror
and said to myself, "Listen here -
your jawline is sagging
your eyelids are bagging
your face needs some help now, it's clear."

Maybe I'll get some more Botox,
hey, sometimes it turns back the clocks,
it freezes my lines
helps with facial designs
But I ain't gonna look like a fox

Or maybe I'll head to Sephora,
(disguised by a velvet fedora)
Buy some shit that smells good
'cause it's just understood
When it comes to their stuff, I'm a whore-a

Makeup, eyeshadow and liner!
It all makes me look so much finer
hoist up my tits,
spackle my zits,
and I'll quit acting like such a whiner

The gay makeup artist has found me
the salesladies start to surround me
Oh my god, it's on sale!
Fill up my pail!
Before the cashiers start to hound me

As I headed out after my trip
I looked at my credit card slip
I said "What the fuck?
I've spent my last buck!
For eye gel and blush -- what a rip!"

So my divas, I gotta admit
I'm getting real tired of this shit
Maybe instead
wear a bag on my head
The fountain of youth? Girl, I quit.

Tuesday, July 17, 2007

Baboon meeting

Sweet Jesus on a lighthouse. I just got out of the most boring meeting where, to keep myself from falling asleep, I looked around the conference room table and idly counted how many women obviously color their hair. 13 out of 16, and the other three probably should.

The meeting dragged on, and I seriously could not stop myself from thinking mean snarky thoughts the more I looked around the room. Why doesn't that woman stop getting her hair poodle-permed? Has the woman with the inch-long gray roots not been close to a mirror lately, or at least looked into a stagnant pond to check her reflection? And dear Buddha, there was a woman who at first glance I thought had been using newsprint as a napkin but was actually suffering from so much facial hair that it looked like a goatee. Was there no one around who would wrestle her to the ground and wax it off? Or am I just a screaming bitch about grooming, brainwashed by the photoshopped ads in Sephora?

I mean, even monkeys groom themselves. Even baboons sit and comb through their hair for ticks, and I haven't noticed them politely asking each other, either -- they just wander over to their baboon girlfriend and grab a wad of hair. Or maybe one female baboon goes up to another female baboon and says "Girl, get over here and let me do somethin' about that nasty chin hair you been gettin' all over your breadfruit. I mean come on, you can't be gettin' down with Mr. Alpha baboon with that scaly shit all over your rump -- get OVER here before I beat you with this rotten jawbone!"

Wow, I wanted to sweetly and gently take the bearded lady to a nice salon where she could relax and have a facial, while secretly the prison matrons get ready to hold her down and wax her face.

Damn, I hate meetings.

Thursday, July 5, 2007

eet eez not French, mais non

Before I offend the vast hordes of my readers, both of you, let me first say that I love accents. All kinds, because I think they are cute and human and charming, although sometimes ear-piercingly awful. I especially love accents that have no particular reference to any country, like Edna Mode in The Incredibles, but this is because I'm a dweeb.

So, I went and got a manicure and pedicure the other day. The place I go to is small, owned by Koreans, has pretty much an open door policy (and I mean literally open door, they leave it propped open to get the nail dust out) and gets you in and out for about $25 for a pretty decent pedicure. The hilarious thing about the place is trying to understand what they are saying to you, which is why I ended up with a nice "French" manicure and pedicure that is so bright white it makes me look like I'm under a black light.

The little Korean ladies rush over and say "Hi OK, you pick colo' out, OK? You wan' both? OK!" I follow one of them to the little pedicure chair and plop my feet in the tub. I don't really know what she means by "both," but I figure it can't be too bad. (What, like both hands? Both feet?)

The nail lady assigned to me comes and grabs my right foot out of the water and smiles like a crazed doll. "You wan' cut, OK?" She looks at my toes and says "Ohno! No you no wanna cut just file, OK? You toenail look GOOR!!! You no has no prorem with toes, no." She goes to work on my toes, and I am relaxing in the nifty massage chair when she grabs a bowl of something and says "You wanna sarrub?"

I blink, like a dense dog. What's a sarrub? Is it a snack, customarily offered to guests in Korea?

She waves the bowl around and says it again. "Sarrub, good for leg! Fi dolla!" Finally I realize she's asking me if I want a salt scrub for my legs and feet to smooth the skin, and I decline, feeling silly. What's the proper etiquette when someone has your leg hoisted up and is speaking bad English about your rough skin?

She finishes the prep work on my feet and says "Whe' colo'? No colo?" I tell her (eagerly, because I am beginning to understand her wonky accent) "I'd like a French today, please." She looks at me grimly, as if I'd asked her to suck my toes purple, but pulls out her bottle of white polish and starts painting thick white lines furiously. They are so sloppy that I almost stopped her, but I was afraid she'd stab me with a cuticle stick.

Anyway, she eventually finished and I have to say they looked OK, if a little supernaturally white. The Korean lady, however, was so happy with her own work that she said something in rapid native language to the other ladies, and they lean over to look at my feet and babble. "Oooh, you toenails GOOR! You be toenail moder!! Look, no mawk, no rine -- no sarrub? You no have sarrub? Oh, you lucky have GOOR toenail, ha ha ha ha!" I don't know why they call it French.