Bake and Shake

My eyes, my eyes.

Oh hey, I'm twenty-five and just now realizing that shit is GOING DOWN on my face that I was not aware of.

I need some eye cream, and I would love to know of any brands or treatments you're down for. A general, great moisturizer would be awesome, as well. Some basic information:

1. I am bi-racial, which means that I am forever being told I don't 'need' creams, moisturizer, serums or the like because I am brown and that myth is perpetuated by members of my own family, who use nothing but Dove and look 10 well into their seventies. However, I absolutely do need them as I am dealing with a little bit of hyperpigmentation, a little dry skin in the outer corners of my eyes, a little uneven texture and tone, a little bit of The Wrinks when I squeeze my eyes together and smile really big. I also don't drink enough water, get enough sleep and sometimes I am around enough cigarette smoke to feel it the morning after, even though I don't smoke.
2. I have a maximum budget of 50 dollars for each item (eye cream/moisturizer), so 100 total. If we can't do it for less than that, I'm up for using mayonnaise. If you're a Kiehls girl, let me hear those names being dropped.
3. I'm more interested in prevention and maintenance than a cure. I just want to stay hydrated and healthy, rather than transport my dermis back to the dewy days of 1986, when I was four. Like I'm down for my age showing on my face, I just want to make sure that my face is happy about it.
4. I don't break out or deal with acne beyond the occasional, monster cheek or chin zit, and I've got that taken care of thanks to salicylic acid and a scorched-earth policy when it comes to that. I use Cetaphil, because it is just great, and I sleep on my face which I shouldn't but I do. I don't know if that makes a difference, I just feel like confessing.
5. I apologize if this comes across as being demanding, all "TELL ME YOUR SECRETS" -- I just, like I said, have no idea where to turn. All of my back issues of InStyle are pissing me off, and my friends, when we attempted to have a round-table about this, were equally dumbfounded. We are all in the sausage factory, blindfolded and running around. There are no adults.

Please, be our adult.

OH NO: Part one

I have never had the urge to send in my Most Embarrassing Moments to Seventeen, or maybe the grown-up versions to Cosmo or Glamour. For one, I think that embarrassment is healthy, it keeps the karmic scales calibrated and teaches you lessons about yourself and others, and half the time, the embarrassments aren't noticed or witnessed by a lot of people. You know? And I like to think that those, especially, are little karmic reminders of how weak, and easy-to-humble or humiliate you really are.

And usually they're small ones, falling on your face (literally or otherwise), being the butt of a joke, realizing you're somehow exposing a part of your body you shouldn't be. Farting loudly, sneezing so hard snot comes out and drapes itself across your cheek and upper lip, in the middle of a lecture or party conversation. Ones that aren't that big a deal, really, except for how you respond to them, usually with blushing and sheepish shame. But sometimes, they are huge reminders, HUGE, and looking back after the whole thing has come and gone, you see the warnings the cosmos were sending your way, and how you denied them because you and your thick head had an idea and it was going to come to fruition and as a result, what happened happens and you can't cry, because it is too big for crying. Crying is an act of indulgence in these situations, and there is no indulgence allowed right now. Brass tacks, friends, let us be real about this. What happened last night is too big and humiliating to be dumb over.

Like I think I shot someone last night, I really do, and now I'm hiding in your basement and you just threw a Capri Sun and a bag of 100 calorie wheat thins down at me, and your eyes are blank. It's cool, the cops are coming anyway, no matter where I go, we'd better just watch some 'Real Housewives of NYC' until they show up.

I would tell you, but I feel like nobody talks about these moments on their sites. You are all classy, dainty, well-bred cultured people, with nicely decorated homes and photography skills, cute clothing and no stories like this. I feel like it would be horrifying, this story between pictures of pancakes and Sesame Street videos. And who would want to? Every person I told the story to, explaining in full detail because no one else was there and the incident happened to me and indirectly affected someone else, and probably our friendship, has said a variation on the following condolences:

"I wish they made a card for this."
"Oh SHIT."
"NO."
"Awesome story. Awesome story. In ten years. When you no longer know him. Awesome story. For your kids. In ten years."
"I am telling _____. Can I tell her? Is that cool? Oh MY GOD."
"He probably didn't even notice."
"Just send out a MySpace Bulletin, apologizing. Just tell everybody at once, before word gets out."
"Oh honey."

So there we go. Last night something really embarrassing happened. A perfect storm brewed itself up, and there was no escaping it once I was sucked in, and I can't tell you about it, but I'm going to, eventually. This is just part one.

"And in the big ones, Drunk Lady Punch."

These glasses are so great. I want a dozen of them, each size -- I want to make tiny, individual tiramisus in the small ones. But right now I will settle for a few less. Order up -- I did the other day.

More things I am loving beyond all reason:
1. Hello's "New York Groove", which is tied with Linda Clifford's "Red Light" and Dazz Band's "Let it Whip" for songs I can't stop moving around to. A couple of weeks ago, I couldn't listen to anything but Kate Nash's "We Get On" and "Nicest Thing", so this is a huge boost.
2. An arm snaking around my waist and pulling me in close, or a hand resting softly on the crown of my head, absent-mindedly.
3. Dancing outside in the dark just to make each other laugh.
4. You, every single one of you.

You like this, I'm already sure of it

'Fern' by Ashley G.

I bought this print for myself the other day -- I saw it in Tracy's flickr favorites, and found my way to Ashley G's shop. I'm sure you've seen her work before, and you probably own a piece or two of it yourself. But this is just such a great print that I think you should buy it, too. A limited signed and numbered run of ten, there are 5 pieces left, and I believe she did another printing with green accents instead of orange. It is just ripe for welcoming in nice weather, a gift to yourself, along with that sunshine.

Of the Textile Persuasion, and Spring!

 

Old Navy keeps on winning, every race I've ever cared about. Look at those prints.

It is gorgeous outside right now, and has been for the past few days (at least 45 to 75% of the day, which is great). Everything is just so springy -- pussy willows and crocus buds out front, Daffodils at the grocery store. Soon the daphne will bloom, the grape hyacinth and tiny, random patch of micro-daisies and buttercups that always pop up in the same random spot in our lawn and that has to be my favorite part of every spring, until cherry and plum blossoms burst. Then that is my favorite time of year, hands down.

In less glamorous news, my skin looks like a watered-down cup of instant hot chocolate. I want it to warm up, so I can return to the living.

Prince wants to know if you're still on for V-Day

 
Diamonds and/or Pearls, baby. Inspired by EZ over at CC. All from Ross Simons. All as big as a human eyeball, and just as expensive, if you buy it on the black market.

I have the body chemistry of a man

I don't know what it is, but no matter what perfume I use, if it even vaguely whiffs of amber, musk, patchouli, cedar, goddamn mystery 'Tonka Bean' or 'Heart of Woods', I end up smelling like your Dad.

All other notes, layers or sweet nothings are lost, as my skin cells rapidly mutate and scent themselves as though they're a 45 year old man who stores his wool sweaters in layers of bark dust, weed and ammonia. As a result, I wear straightforward, overly-sweet scents that don't play games. Vanilla, sugar, crisp apple, sweet citrus and the like, because my body will otherwise betray me, leading people to believe I am a biology teacher who drinks and uses those giant pinecones as bongs before class. When I was in high school, I used a tiny vial of rose oil for a week and was, number one, called out my crush at the time for smelling like something horrifying, so bad that weeks later I pulled a dollar bill out of the wallet I had stored the vial in ("For touch ups!") and he stiffened, asking me what had happened, why had all systems failed and I said, "No, it's the rose oil!" and he smelled the dollar bill and calmed down.

That same oil got me in trouble in art class, when I discreetly applied it to my wrists and returned to stippling a drawing of a jumble of stuffed animals my teacher had placed in the middle of the room. Two senior girls who I both feared and longed to emulate suddenly lifted their heads and asked who had just put something on that smelled "like that". I raised my hand, and one of them, the kinder one who was actually the one I feared most, shrugged and said "It's okay, I mean, it smells fine, it's just really strong."

The other looked at me and said "It smells like bourbon."

This is all to lead into the disappointment that is LaVanila Pure Vanilla, which just arrived and I applied to one wrist, hoping that the patchouli notes would stay home. No, instead they're front and center and I smell like someone's "Laid-back" Dad who makes his own beer. What would be a lovely, centered and feminine scent on another female's wrists, is not on me.

Thirty minutes later, the patchouli has chilled out a little and after accosting a few people of both genders with my wrist, they can't smell the patchouli, and say that it smells nice. I can't decide if I should go with the people and just deal with being paranoid, or if the paranoia will ruin it for me.

Merry and Bright

I hope you have the best Holidays yet, folk, and if your Holiday has past, I hope it was wonderful. I plan on celebrating these last few days before Christmas by exfoliating, making things that require lots of butter, sleeping in and re-reading 'Don't You Want Me?' and 'My Life on a Plate', ordering movies on Pay-Per-View and doing some work, too. This weekend my cousins arrive, and I plan on smothering them, especially the one who can't run away yet, with love. My sisters have already locked themselves away from me. I will see you after the New Year, which I hope brings only fantastic things for you and your loved ones. Thank you for every comment, every note, every thing -- this site isn't even a year old yet, but I needed to thank you anyway. Thank you. You all smell so nice.

I would also like the gum wrappers in your pocket

Ever since I found my favorite tweezers in the pocket of a purse I no longer use, after months of frantic prayer, I thought I'd never need anything so frivolous in my life again. The above collection completely dissolves that resolution, and fully paints me as a horrible girl who covets. Behold -- after weeks of Etsy, things I either literally cannot afford or do not deserve. What do you wish would land on your roof, randomly, and then not show up in your checking account a few days later?

(In no particular order) 1. Fresh scents: Mangosteen, Fig-Apricot and Hesperides  2. Yellow Polka Dot Girl painting by KateP 3. Borghese Mirrored Dresser 4. MAC Curiousitease Holiday Lipglass set 5. TWINKLE Glamour Girl Mat 6. Organic Vanilla Beans 7. Luisa Clare French Curve Bag 8. MIU MIU Crystal Embellished Flats 9. Tom Binns Swarovski Cuff 10. Out-of-Season Peonies 11. Coppola Sophia Sparkling '06 12. Cynthia Rowley Dirty Dishes Cup and Saucer

I love the following words

"Maybe out of fear, or maybe out of necessity, Dana cut out early for a “date.” We let her know that baking day wasn’t for quitters, and when she apologized and promised to be back the following day for her share of the cookies, I let her know that she would find them scattered in the street. This day is not for the weary or faint of heart. If you bake with us, you bake hard and long and you like it." Uncouth Heathen

"Well, I talked to them and they’re *@#$ers. They won’t even honor the work they did two months ago. They wanted to charge me $75 bucks to just come out and see that they didn’t fix you. Don’t worry, we’ll never let [...] HVAC contracting ever touch you again." The House Rules

"Yesterday I needed something quick for lunch because I had to get back to watching my Tivo & surfing the internet." Shutterbean (Who obviously is living my life, except I don't have a Tivo, just OnDemand)

Also, Amy's gift tags. I am going to print them out and put them all on my Dad's gift. Except the "I love you so much it makes me sick..." one, because I'm pasting that on my dog, the one I've had for ten years.