Friday, July 29, 2011
Thinking of that doll house now tells me what Betty Broderick's life was probably like before her life was completely turned upside down, a victim of her husband's betrayal and her own batshit craziness. The first Lifetime movie about her and her crime does a pretty damn good job of showing us that. Probably better than any other Lifetime movie out there (except for maybe The Two Mr. Kissels, which as you know, I'm particularly partial to), this movie shows us, rather than just hitting us over the head with, the world that these characters live in.
Really, A Woman Scorned: The Betty Broderick Story is a freaking master of the TV movie genre. Here's the story if you are so sad and deprived and dedicated to quality programming that you don't know it by heart already: Boy meets girl. Girl marries boy and stays with him through med school, then law school, then four kids, then overwhelming prosperity. Boy meets younger girl at law office and becomes a cliche in an expensive suit. Girl goes completely Ozzie Osbourne style CRAY-CRAY. Boy gets a few restraining orders and a divorce. Girl hits boy's house with her car. Girl shoots boy and younger girl and as boy is laying in the floor, dying, pulls the phone out of the wall so he can't call for help. LIKE A BOSS.
Matt watched a snippet of this movie with me and had an interesting point about it. If you look just a tad farther than Meredith Baxter's insanely good acting, you have a weird thing going on here. Namely, you are being asked, in fact, the movie is DEMANDING, that you sympathize with the cheating husband, the 40-something lawyer who shacked up his 20-something "legal assistant," who, as Debra Jo Rupp tells us, can't type a damn thing, and, further, that you demonize his strong willed wife. SURELY YOU JEST, LIFETIME. As we all know, Lifetime has made a mint demonizing the Dan Brodericks of the world, those men who shuck the women who have supported them through thick and thin right at the moment when things are starting to sag. And why wouldn't this be a profitable way to go for the network? Their target demographic lies in the saggy, the married, the Ben and Jerry's eaters of the world. Those 20 something legal assistants are all off presumably riding jet-ski's and giving blow jobs, not watching movies about women who had their face eaten off by dogs and then, inspirationally, made much better. But, crazily, here we all are, quietly cheering for the relationship between these two quirky kids in their big house and wagging a weary finger at the woman who leaves them dirty voice mails. Way to go, Lifetime. You just BLEW MY MIND. As Matt pointed out, Meredith Baxter might as well wear a goatee in this movie because it is BIZARRO WORLD.
Perhaps this is part of the charm of this movie. Perhaps that is why it is so damn good. But perhaps it is also because of these little moments, little nuggets of awesome that stand out. For instance, there is one moment when Betty is just doing her damn best to drive her huge, hulking SUV type thing into Dan's living room. She does it with this calm swagger, which in itself is badass and just more indication of how much Meredith Baxter truly rocked this role. But the best part is what is going on inside the house. The kids are all scattered about, trying to figure out what the ruckus is all about, which is well, what you'd be doing if someone decided to go all Wal-Mart parking lot on your front door. And one of the kids is standing on the staircase, and he just goes, "Dad, IT'S MOM." The kid really rocks this line. There is this worry in his voice, and as soon as he says it, this pang just hit me, and I knew that no matter what else I do as a parent, I don't want my son to ever say that about me. Which brings my list of parenting goals to two: 1) Keep the kids from becoming serial killers and 2) Don't let my kids ever see me doing something so egregious that they get that tremor in their voice. It's good to set the bar low when it comes to parenting, you know?
The other line that comes to mind is actually not too far into the movie. Dan and Betty are at a party, but it is not really remarkable because they are always at a damn party. Supposedly, Dan is working these 80 hour work weeks, and you know, he's a partner at a law firm, so that's plausible, but they sure do find time to party. I refuse to believe that this is a realistic portrayal--I think Lifetime just wanted to have more time to show a dude in a cape and top hat. SEXY. Anyway, Dan surprises a partner, as well as the partner's wife and Betty, with a Paris vacation on the following Thursday. This is when I paused the movie and told Matt that if he wanted to surprise me with tickets to Paris, even if they were to Paris, Texas, I wouldn't have a problem with that, and when Matt chuckled and I swore to invent that divorce app I've been thinking about. Betty sure as Hell has a problem with this spontaneous showing of wealth and affection. She whines, "But Dan...that's my manicure day!" And, that my friends, is how a patented response gets started in this house. Matt said something to me about going to a cook-out tomorrow night, and of course, I had to say, "BUT MATT....that's my manicure day!" And of course he had to say, "It's YOUR MOM'S manicure day." And, of course, I had to guffaw loudly and think about all witty and awesome I am. And, of course, you had to roll your eyes and promise to never visit this seedy area of the internet ever again.
Ladies, do yourself a favor and buy a good volume of alcohol (if that is your thing), a good cheese and some crackers and watch this shit. You won't regret it. When you get done, you'll not only be just a tad scared that Betty Broderick will get paroled, but you'll also be delightfully frightened that Meredith Baxter, who just enjoyed herself to the MAX in this role, will show up in her SUV at your front door, call you a bunch of dirty names and spray paint on your walls.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
This past weekend, my husband and I went to Cleveland. When I first told my mom we were going, she cracked up, so maligned is Cleveland in the general thoughts and minds of us non-Clevelandites. She still thinks it is pretty damn funny, asking me jauntily if I enjoyed my trip to the "mistake on the lake". To be completely honest, we didn't actively choose to go there. We basically wrote down every baseball stadium that is within driving distance of our house (including a few minor league teams) and threw them in my straw fedora and said we'd visit whichever one we pulled out. Progressive Field won, so we went, feeling doubly excited with the thought of the Hall of Fame looming as well.
My husband and I are both huge rock fans. He very much enjoys classic rock--I don't think he listens to really anything made after 1985 or so except for the White Stripes and maybe Muse. Matt grew up in a very, very religious household and only really started listening to popular music at all after he left home for college--before that it was all classical stuff and a little bit of oldies. His favorite song when I met him was "The House of the Rising Sun" by the Animals, which he listened to on an old stereo, turned down low to avoid his mom overhearing a song about a whorehouse. I, however, was very different. My parents loved rock, and I grew up on a steady diet of Neil Young, The Who, and Springsteen. When I was in kindergarten, the first thing I ever took for show and tell was a "My First Walkman" that my dad had bought me and my mom's tape of Tina Turner singing "Proud Mary," which was my favorite song at the time. Some of my best memories are riding around with my mom in her little two seater Mazda RX7 on Saturday nights, listening to our local rock station. My mom is a classically trained pianist, and at night after I had gone to bed, she would play Carole King's Tapestry from some old sheet music that was yellowed and falling apart. As I got older, I became very much enamored with Nirvana and the Smashing Pumpkins and Sonic Youth and Radiohead, while still listening to my mom's stuff--I wore out Simon and Garfunkel's "Sounds of Silence" at about 14 and developed a long-standing tradition of listening to Zeppelin whilst bathing. "Landslide" by Fleetwood Mac IS my 18th year. In fact, when Matt and I met, I once heard him refer to me as "that girl with the big eyes that likes history and listens to weird music."
So, given all that, I guess you can take all this with a grain of salt. We are predisposed to like this stuff, just as we would be predisposed to like the Baseball Hall of Fame or the Cheese Hall of Fame. That said, I would dare mention that anyone would really enjoy this museum. There is truly something for everyone.
Some things to know if you plan to go:
- Allow all day for your visit. Unless you plan on sprinting through it, there is plenty there to keep you all day. It opens at 10 and closes at 5 (on every day but Saturday and Wednesday when it closes at 9). We got there and bought our tickets at 9:50, and we were the last people through the gate and into the gift shop at 5:05. Granted, we have a tendency to be big readers, and have quite the intestinal fortitude it requires to read all of the stuff in there AND we watched about an hour of the concert downstairs (which is streaming on Netflix if you are interested--we watched the rest last night) AND watched the inductees video upstairs, which took about an hour. If you don't want to do those things, you can take less time. But know that they are definitely worth it and add to the place, even if Matt wants me to add that the production values on the video (showing the first inductees in 1986) are similar to something one could make "with the software that came on my first computer, right beside of the Grollier's Encylopedia and Mavis Beacon Teaches Typing". You can't win em all, I guess.
- Load up on food beforehand. We ate a pretty big breakfast at our hotel before leaving, and I'm glad for that because we simply did not have time to eat! The HoF has a cafe, but Matt, always the consummate budget traveler, told me to stear clear because he had read it was expensive and not delicious. I am a person who normally eats lunch right at 12, but I did not get hungry, perhaps from all the excitement and the walking. You are not supposed to eat in the museum, but I think you would be well-served to put some peanut butter and crackers or an apple in your bag and nosh on that in the cafe area. If we visit again, that is what I'll do. But to be honest, I didn't really need it, although I realized I was starved when we left and we had to make a beeline for something to eat.
- You can't take pictures, so know that going in. Listen folks. I like taking pictures as much as the next person. It was so, so fun to sit back and look at the ones we took of our trip when we got home and compare them to pictures of other road trips we have taken. But. You can't take pictures of everything, so get used to that fact. There were people getting visibly pissed when told they couldn't use their cameras in the building. And really, it is much more fun to go around and see the stuff instead of having to worry about getting the perfect picture. There is a coat and camera check downstairs, so take advantage of it, and try not to be so grumpy when someone tells you that you can't use your camera. Geez Louise, people. The world is a cruel place; let's all get used to not getting our way all the time.
- If you like the Beatles, get in line. Matt has a guiding principle for life, he says, and that is that there are two types of people in the world--Beatles people and Stones people. We are Stones people, as you may or may not have guessed. Most of the people who were visiting the day we were there were Beatles people. The Beatles have quite a large display of their own at the HoF, but you can barely get over to it for all the people just sitting there. Quite the clusterfuck, if I do say so myself. Matt said it reminded him of the line to see Lenin in Moscow, which made me laugh, because Lennon/Lenin. GET IT? We ended up kind of skipping it because the Stones were in the same room, and well you know. But just know that if you want to see Beatles stuff, you might have to throw an elbow to get your wish. (Interestingly, the Stones section was totally quiet, except for a teenage punkish looking band who were touring the section with security in tow. I have no idea who they were, but Gabby probably would. Matt made the comment that if any of them had farted, they would have blown their shoes clean off, so tight were their pants.)
- Bring a pencil and a notepad to write down acts you might want to look up after your visit. Some of the more awesome things that the HoF offers are kiosks where you can, among other things, see songs or bands that defined rock and roll and find out more information about them. A lot of this information is given in the form of acts that predated and inspired the work or the creator. By the time we got to the second round of these kiosks, I had located a free W&M pad they sent us in one of their 5 billion monthly requests for alumni donations and a pen and we took the time to write down a lot of blues acts and specific songs we wanted to download upon going home. This is a great way to extend the fun, and I'm really digging all this new Billie Holliday stuff I downloaded last night.
- If you can, try to get there before February 26, 2012. This is the last day to see the exhibit of Women Who Rock, which is there for a limited time exhibition. I liked this exhibit for obvious reasons. Was it perfect? No. The top floor was a lot of outfits worn by female rock acts. I loved this because I love clothes, but then again, it kind of had a "Dresses of the First Ladies" feel and I would have liked to see more information about women, sexuality, and music, not just a bunch of pretty dresses. The best part? Joan Jett's leather jacket, with its "Pro FUCKING Choice" button and of course, the Marianne Faithful and Patti Smith stuff, which were conveniently located right next to each other for maximum drooling effect for me (Matt saw them together, looked at me, and goes, "Well, I guess I'll see you in an hour or so...."). The other problem? They soiled the whole thing with a Taylor Swift dress! I hate to be all boo-boo kitty about stuff, but Taylor Swift just brings out the anger in me. I told Gabby about it and she rolled her eyes and goes, "I thought it was Women Who Rock and not Little Girls Who Sob." And with that, I present my daughter who truly, truly rocks. Of note, however, is a photograph display downstairs (near the Elvis stuff) all of women, with a bit of commentary on each one. They have a wide breadth of people from Gwen Stefani to Whitney Houston to Wendy O. Williams of the Plasmatics to Tina Weymouth of the Talking Heads. Matt and I both felt that it was a better homage to the women of rock (albeit smaller) than the upstairs exhibit.
This is long, and well, to be honest, there's probably only a handful of you people that actually care. I do encourage you to go, if for no other reason than to really feel the way that music affects us all. I do not consider myself to be a hokey person, and to be honest, that is something that I pride myself on. I hate faux sympathy, I hate anything I consider to be emotionally fraught. But I am not kidding--I straight up teared up in front of the Seattle/Grunge display. Something about knowing how that stuff had affected me as a kid, and seeing it all there, in front of me, knowing that I am now a year older than Kurt Cobain was when he died. It really affected me. And the best thing about music is that it is like that. No matter how far removed you consider yourself to be, there is something there that will move you, that will take you away to a simpler time and place or to a place where the music was all that you had.I told Matt that I planned to write this and he wanted to add two things: 1) You can get cheaper parking (I think it is $6 as compared to $10, which is a big deal to Matt) is you park at the little airport down the street. It is not a much farther walk than the $10 lot. And 2) (this is a direct quote): "The only thing that place needed was more Charlie FUCKING Watts."
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
I just love the unfussy glamour of it all. The lady certainly knows her way around a hat. And did I mention that she rocks BANGS? JUST LIKE ME? My God, people. The awesome.
I really want to make an effort to imbue my Fall purchasing with just that little bit of boho. Sure, I have the parameters of real life to work in. There's work and there's parenting and there's a lot of other shit to contend with where I can't wear a humongo hat and a fur coat and just be like, "What?" I took a look at the Nordstrom Anniversary Sale the other day (and didn't buy anything...boo-urns on being a responsible grown-up person who has to take her brood on vacation and you know, feed them and shit!), and noticed some key pieces that I think I'm going to buy later/find dupes for. And I'm starting to think of accessories in a new way, trying to jazz up what I already own with some belting, some big ole bangles, a jazzy new necklace or so.
One late summer purchase I've made (to wear to the RnR HoF, actually) in this vein is this dress. Let me just say, I adore it. If you are a shorty like me and have been wanting a maxi dress and just haven't found one you can rock without a hem job, this is your dress. It is the perfect length on me in REGULAR (they do offer petite if you are so inclined, but read the reviews). I am currently trying to think of some very fun ways to style it--have thought of my long, black fireball dupe necklace, a fedora, a paisley scarf, and a skinny silvery belt as all contenders.
Interestingly, I was trying all this on the day that I received the dress and ecstatically removed it from the package. Matt was sitting at our computer, planning our trip to DC, which he has choreographed TO THE VERY SECOND. I came out with the scarf looped and belt on, and Matt goes, "Are you trying to look like Steven Tyler?" I said, "No," and moped a bit. I go, "I'M TRYING TO LOOK LIKE I AM DATING SOMEONE IN A FAMOUS ROCK BAND. BUT NOT LIKE I AM HIGH ON SMACK. GOD." Matt smiled at me and said, "You know, if I were in a famous rock band, it would probably be a band like Rush."
Maybe the divorce papers will be on the way WAY before I do my Fall shopping....
Monday, July 18, 2011
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Now, granted, to look like this you either have to be a) dating a rock star and getting a little something-something from his bandmate, b) living in a much more glamourous world than the one I currently inhabit (I JUST SPENT MY MORNING DESIGNING AND FOLDING BROCHURES! GLAMOUR! FABULOSITY!) and c) be totally freaking gorgeous. But I love this picture, and I am not even kidding when I say that I would gladly shoot someone in the face to look like this. So shorts! Let's rock with it! (And I'm sure I'll be back with more pictures like this, because me and Anita--well, we're having a moment.)
1. Know your inseams. From most companies, the shortest you can get is about a 3" inseam. That's pretty short. I have read that shorties like myself should wear shorter shorts to make the legs appear longer, but you have to think about comfort. 3 inchers, on me, give me that bizarre, riding up in the front, front wedge. Know what I mean? If you don't, go to any theme park, and I guarantee you that within about 10 minutes you'll see a few. Because my legs touch each other when I walk. No matter how thin I get, no matter how many cupcakes I sadly throw in the trash, my legs are always gonna touch. Chances are, you have the same issue. Know this going in. I like a 5" inseam because it is still short for maximum leg lengthening, but it is comfortable. And I think the look given by a 5" inseam is flattering on a lot of different legs. Plus, it is comfy and you have that whole "dress it up/dress it down" thing that is a bit trickier with shorts, but is still there.
2. That said, longer is not always better. You may hate your legs. They may truly be disgusting. I doubt it, but you know, it could happen. But you're doing yourself no favors by going with whatever is the longest thing available. I used to gravitate towards bermudas for that reason, but here's the thing: bermudas made me look like I was on the one way express to Stumpytown. They drew attention to my calves in some bizarre way and made me look like I had the legs of a piano. Because of the stumpy thing, I felt pressured to wear heels with them, which And the thing is, bermudas typically look the best on people who are long and slim. Now, ain't that just a kick in the nuts? It's the truth. When buying, don't concentrate so much on what the length is (just make sure it is comfortable to you), but rather, how it looks on you. Trust me, the hideousness that you think you are covering is just going to be magnified if the shorts don't flatter you.
3. Have fun with color. Shorts, in a great number of cases, are the ideal "Let's not take this so seriously" clothing. That's why they are so prevalent amongst stoners and Jimmy Buffett fans. So have fun with them. I recently bought a pair of French lavender colored shorts from the J. Crew Factory. Would I wear French lavendar pants? HELL NO. But I love the shorts, and really, they are much more versatile than one would think. I, for instance, love them with an orange striped tank I have. Orange and lavendar?!? Say it ain't so! It is so totally so, and I love it.
4. Do denim...with reservations. I used to be very, very anti-denim shorts (you can read a past blog entry with a cute pictorial lesson here), and still am in a lot of cases. But this year especially has shown me the error of my ways. I actually have two pairs now (gasp!)--a pair of beat-up looking ones and a pair of dark denim, more refined ones (kind of like a denim trouser in short form). Given the right circumstances, I love them both. For instance, the beat up ones are perfection with my Frye Harnesses, an old cut-up ACDC shirt and a dark eye. The trouser-y ones were recently worn with a structured white top, Jackie cardigan, and a chignon. The message is, watch your styling, and you can really have fun with denim shorts. Just remember this cardinal rule: DO NOT WEAR THEM TO A THEME PARK (or really, any place where you are going to be walking a lot or getting wet). Why? You'll look ridiculous, you'll be hot, and MY GOD, PEOPLE, THE CHAFING. My thighs are weeping right now at the thought of the thousands of thighs that will be chafed this year in denim related theme park accidents. Sadness.
5. Watch your shoe choice. Nothing says, "I played the decoy on To Catch a Predator" like wearing denim shorts with socks and tennis shoes. Leave that look to the 12 year olds. Opt for sandals (you decide how dressy you want to go) on that. In a pinch, Converses or Jack Purcells are acceptable, but only with NO SOCKS or at least, very short ones. STEP AWAY FROM THE SOCKS, PEOPLE.
6. And remember, whatever you wear, don't sweat it. It should be obvious, but don't wear anything that makes you uncomfortable. If you can, order some shorts online and try them out. If they make you feel icky, don't keep the suckers. I know this seems obvious, but I think a lot of times we try to force ourselves into wearing something because someone says we should, and it just doesn't work out. I'm here to tell you that you probably look pretty awesome in them, and not to worry about it. Again, just because you're paying mondo attention to your legs, doesn't mean other people are. They are too busy worrying about their own shit/wondering if their baseball team will ever win again/trying to force themselves into NOT singing "S&M" every time someone says something about Matt Kemp/being insecure about their own dimples and rolls. Sure, there's someone out there who cares--as a wise man once said, "Haterz gotta hate"--but you shouldn't care.
Here are some shorts I like, have tested out, and own:
J. Crew 5 Inchers. I've bought these in a 6, I've bought them in a 16, and they've always been flattering. And, as is the case for most Crew items, the color choices are amazing. Quick tip--the Factory ones are good as well. Fabric is a little thinner, but I like that during the summer, and from what I've seen thus far this year, they hold up much like the non-factory version. In a lot of cases, these are cheaper in the store than online (just be wary of the size choices--they were dicey with middle sizes--6/8/10--in my closest outlet).
Land's End Canvas Lightweight Chinos. Basic, with a nice fit and good quality material.
Old Navy Distressed Denim Shorts. Very cute on. It is very hard to find a denim short that doesn't skew "Daisy Duke," and these fit the bill.
Gap trouser shorts. Mine are these, just the Gap Outlet version, and I love mine (and they were just $17!). Very versatile. Love the look with something crisp and white and a big turquoise necklace.
And that's all it took. I tried to swallow my laughter, but it didn't work, and there I sit on the couch, just chortling away. Sam starts laughing too, just really going at it, and his laugh is truly amazing, so that just makes it all worse, and before I know it, we are all laying on the couch in a shaking, giggling heap, and Alice is standing in the doorway, clutching her second ice cream cone of the hour and going, "What do?" which makes us all laugh harder.
And then last night, Alice started throwing the bowl of popcorn that she had begged and begged for, all over the bed. At first, I just said no. But she didn't stop, so I reached out and kind of made a slapping motion at her hand. I didn't really hit her, but I thought the motion might shock her into putting her handful of popcorn down peacefully and retreating into good-childom. It did. And she even acted as though I hurt her (remember: I did not touch her), so I kissed her hand and politely told her to not do it again, why it was bad, the whole bit. For one minute, she just sat there and watched the All Star Game with me. And then, she picks up another handful of popcorn and loudly shouts, "DO AGAIN!" at which point I realize she wants me to punish her again.
I guess I don't have to say this, but SECOND PARENTING FAIL.
I really suck at the whole disciplinary thing. It is funny, because a good deal of Gabby's friends think I am the strict mom, since we have a mandatory bedtime in our house and I have absolutely refused to buy her a cell phone until she is 13 (with my patented response to the inquiry at "Who are you going to call? Dora?"). I have also taken the very mean and awful, Medici-esque steps of outlawing those sweatpants with writing on the ass and not allowing anyone in my house to step out of our yard wearing pajamas. CRUEL, I TELL YOU. But when it comes to actually laying down the law, I talk a big game, but very often, I crumble. And when it comes to things that I find to be amusing, I absolutely cannot keep a straight face or carry out my original mission. In short, I'd make a very lousy terrorist and Dr. Phil would probably really lay into me, given the chance.
So I have devised a new list of punishments for my hellion offspring.
1. If anyone brings home a bad grade (and yes, in my house, that equals anything "B" or lower), I will put that person in the front seat of the car, and I will drive around our town, blasting Blackstreet's "No Diggity" windows down. I will loudly sing every word, and when I see someone that that child knows, however vaguely, I will yell "PLAY ON PLAYA" at that person until I get a response.
2. Anyone caught doing anything vaguely unsavory on Facebook (and yes, I keep tabs on these things and have the passwords) will have baby pictures tagged by me. And I will tag them while the child in question has been grounded from internet devices and cannot un-tag. I will also feel free to post things on the Wall of the offender, including, but not limited to, poems of adoration and a great number of posts that begin with the words "Remember that time that you peed on yourself?"
3. Anyone caught being mean to a sibling will be forced to clean the kitchen on a day after I make roasted chicken (have you see the roasting pan post-chicken?--ick). I will also make some kind of bread that has to be rolled out and--oops!--I will forget to use a cutting board to roll it out on. And yes, I'll check between the tiles to make sure the cleaning has been thorough.
4. A child caught lying to me will have garage cleaning duty for a weekend. Prior to the actual garage cleaning, I will leave the door open for a night so we can get a nice mixture of creatures milling around in there. Feral cats FTW!
5. An untidy room means you get to sit and watch a Hoarders marathon with me. I don't think that is punishment, but I'm sure they will, especially when I sit there and play-by-play it. "Oh, they're going to open the bathroom! Five bucks says the water has been off for 5 years and there is a bag of excrement in there. Wait for it....OH YEAH! BAGS OF POOP! TOLD YA! PAY UP!"
I am lucky that my kids are pretty good little creatures because I'm really running out of ideas. Or maybe I'm not lucky. All of these sound like they'd be pretty fun for me. Maybe I really do have the soul of a dictator....
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Friday, July 1, 2011
I'll go ahead and give you these product reviews. Remember, these are two products that, if worn, will allow you to have sex with Joe Mauer. There's a 98% chance of it. Give or take that pesky 97%.
NYC Cosmetics Lippin' Large Lip Plumper: This is one of those reviews where I should just start it with the words "Well, I was in Target the other day..." I was there to buy a sports bra and some sunscreen and some pajamas for my kids. But, well, you know how that goes. Thankfully, this is one of the smaller purchases I have made under these conditions, running about $3. For my lip plumping needs, I usually use Bare Escentuals Buxom Big and Healthy Lip Polish in the color Dolly, in reverence to one of my favorite Southerners and the creator of Dollywood where you can get the best damn turkey legs in the world. However, I left my last tube in my mother's car and she promptly drove it back to Memphis, thinking it was hers since she uses the same stuff. No biggie, you know. I have plenty of lip gloss and I don't use any of them anything close to exclusively. But sometimes you just get the craving for big old fat Angelina Jolie lips, you know? Thus, the purchase. And I have to say, I like this stuff. I got the color Strawberry Mousse, and there is a bit of a strawberry smell, though nothing cloying or even that noticeable after the first little bit of wearing it. It comes in the little tube like thing that I like in the summer. And the formula is nice--not sticky, not goopy. Pleasant. It makes your lips feel moisturized and happy. The color itself is gorgeous--I could definitely see this color on a more expensive gloss. Now, the plumping abilities? I'm not sure. There is a cool tingle, not so unlike eating a York Peppermint patty, so you're not getting the full-on "I just spread pure uranium on my lips!" feeling of a Lip Venom. It is pretty similar to the Buxom gloss that I'm used to. And there is a bit of noticeable plumping. I'm not sure it is all that much more than a regular gloss where any plumping has just come from drawing more attention to my lips, you know? So if you want GINORMOUS lips, this is not the product for you. But really, I like it. For under $4, I LOVE IT. It is a great, easy product to keep in your purse for when you are riding down the road, air condition blowing on your lips and drying them out.
And the best part? Even for the low price point, it comes in a little box, so you know that even though you are buying it at Target, it has not been tampered with. Cover Girl could learn a thing or two. And you know that gives Joe Mauer a bit of piece of mind. He doesn't want your lips to be tampered with! He wants them all to himself, so he can kiss you and lovingly feed you little chocolate baseball bats that he molded himself in his cabin in Minnesota while he was also preparing a lovely roast leg of lamb, repairing a diesel engine and thinking about rubbing your feet.
Almay Intense I-Color Eyeliner (with Light Interplay Technology!) You know, aside from the internet, I hate technology. I don't have a Kindle (I am the only person in my family, aside from Alice, who does not), I don't have an iPad, I have a rickety old iPod nano that I only use when I'm running and can't convince the husband to come with me, I use my phone for calls. I like things that are old, like books, and tangible desk calendars and writing letters. You guys, I don't even have a food processor--what's the point! I can chop and make pie crust my own damn self, thank you. My husband thinks I'm insane. If it were up to him, we would live like the Jetsons. He keeps track of all new technological developments, and gets giddily excited about them. He has whole conversations about how much he loves living in the age we live in and how excited he gets by change and progress and whatever. Blah. Humbug. Give me a baseball game on the radio (uh, I forgot that I hate that game for a minute there. HATE.) and a nice long book with a broken spine, and I'm ecstatically happy with myself.
So when I saw the words "light interplay technology" on this package of eyeliner, I rolled my eyes. Right there in the Target aisle. But I needed some eyeliner, and I had seen some scuttle about Almay's eye products as of late, so I tried to ignore the fact that "light interplay" technology is the stupidest crap I've ever heard. It's a pencil, ya'll. A kohl pencil. The same sort of shit Cleopatra wore. It doesn't organize your calendar or chop your onions or forward those jokey emails that you get about tequila. IT IS A PENCIL. NO NEED FOR TECHNOLOGY. But I bought it anyway because at my most base level, I have to admit that I was curious. Would my eyes glow with beauty? Could I blind someone with my new ocular laser beams?
The fact is that it is just a basic eye pencil. I don't notice any technology, I don't feel any glowing or see anything crazy. Here's the thing though. The formula is pretty rad. It goes on well, and it has a little smudger on the end. I usually don't use pencils, eschewing them for the flowing-ness of a liquid eyeliner because I prefer the silkiness of a liquid to the sometimes painful and uncertain pencil. But this I like. I think it is perfect for a less heavy handed eye-lined look, especially for the summer. Today I am wearing this and mascara on my eyes. That is it. And that's saying something for a girl that likes her shadow. But I like the look--clean and easy yet defined.
They have lots of colors, and you purchase them based on the color of your eyes. I have boring black, but which is "Black Midnight" since that is what was specified for brown eyes. Whatevs. Joe Mauer, you know, prefers the black, but he says you could go with anything really because he loves your eyes just they way they are. "Just the way you are"--Joe Mauer just loves Billy Joel. Now, if you'll sit still, put your feet up, and eat this bowl of chocolate ice cream he just made in his Cuisinart Ice Cream maker, he'll play you some of the piano man's greatest hits. AND ALL BECAUSE YOU WORE THAT EYELINER. Girl, you are one lucky lady.
I hope you have enjoyed these tips for having sex with everyone's favorite American League Central catcher. As I was typing this, I checked Facebook and saw a post from the Oakland Athletics, and I briefly forgot that I hated them and planned on cutting out some recipes while I watch the game tonight. They are pulling me back in, I know they are. Sigh. A pour of vodka out for my homie, gone to the Rockies, but never forgotten.