My heart won’t stay entirely in this rib caging

You know you have a problem when.
I was in the Victoria BC MAC store the other day,
And I had an MA who was really nice, and she was really helpful,
I really liked her. I have to say, she was probably the best MA I have been around for a long time.

Anyways, I went specifically to get stuff from Cult or Cherry,
And I have to say, none of the new products in that collection impressed me.
I ended up getting all the basics that I never originally bought(I jumped right into brights when I started)
Anyways, I asked the MA if they still had Lacquer's(I recently started lusting after those colors)
I'm pretty sure they are discontinuing them right? But I figured that since they're still up on the site I would see them at the MAC.
I felt bad cause the MA had NO idea what they were when I asked her about them.

And when she said that, I felt old.
I've been into MAC since I was 14, and now I'm 19.
I remember the first collection I ever saw was Madame B.
(looking back now, I wish I'd bought all of that collection)

Has anyone else ever experienced having more knowledge of MAC than an MA?
There were other girls at this MAC and they were so clueless, on had to ask what the Plushglasses were.
I always think "when I get to a city where there is a MAC, I would be so good at that job, I know about it all already"
Anyways,
I'm just rambling.

I ordered brushes from Coastal Scents, and I gotta say,
I'm not happy with how long their shipping takes.
In fact I'm pissed off now.
Seriously, they can ship to Australia in 8 days but not Canada?!?!

Heres a photo of me!
 

I want my hair back!
Its not really as short as it looks in the photos, its swept to one side.

After we had torn out each other's ribs,
And put them back.
After we had juggled thigh bones and knee caps,
And tossed each other's skulls at friends,
After we had sucked each others blood,
And spat it out,
after we had sucked each others blood
And swallowed it, licking our lips,
After the betrayals and imagined betrayals.
After you left me in the snow,
And I left you in the rain,
We both came back.
After staying together out of lust,
Out of fear, and out of laziness,
We find ourselves entangled in each other's arms,
Grown into each other like Siamease twins,
Embedded in each other like ingrown toenails,
And for the first time,
Wanting each other only.

I love Flight of the Conchords



I'd marry either one of these men, ha ha

June 21--
The Three-Quarter Moon

Today a man called from Long Beach. He left a long message on the answering machine, mumbling and shouting, talking fast and slow, swearing and threatening to call the police, to have you arrested.

Today is the longest day of the year--but anymore, every day is.

The weather today is increasing concern followed by full-blown dread.

The man calling from Long Beach, he says his bathroom is missing.

June 22

By the time you read this, you'll be older than you remember.

The official name for your liver spots is hyperpigmented lentigines. The official anatomy word for a wrinkle is rhytide. Those creases in the top half of your face, the rhytides plowed across your forehead and around your eyes, this is dynamic wrinkling, also called hyperfunctional facial lines, caused by the movement of underlying muscles. Most wrinkles in the lower half of the face are static rhytides, caused by sun and gravity.

Let's look in the mirror. Really look at your face. Look at your eyes, your mouth.

This is what you think you know best.

Your skin comes in three basic layers. What you can touch is the stratum corneum, a layer of flat, dead skin cells pushed up by the new cells under them. What you feel, that greasy feeling, is your acid mantle, the coating of oil and sweat that protects you from germs and fungus. Under that is your dermis. Below the dermis is a layer of fat. Below the fat are the muscles of your face.

Maybe you remember all this from art school, from Figure Anatomy 201. But then, maybe not.

When you pull up your upper lip--when you show that one top tooth, the one the museum guard broke--this is your levator labii superioris muscle at work. Your sneer muscle. Let's pretend you smell some old stale urine.

Imagine your husband's just killed himself in your family car. Imagine you have to go out and sponge his piss out of the driver's seat. Pretend you still have to drive this stinking rusted junk pile to work, with everyone watching, everyone knowing, because it's the only car you have.

Does any of this ring a bell?

When a normal person, some normal innocent person who sure as hell deserved a lot better, when she comes home from waiting tables all day and finds her husband suffocated in the family car, his bladder leaking, and she screams, this is simply her orbicularis oris stretched to the very limit.

That deep crease from each corner of your mouth to your nose is your nasolabial fold. Sometimes called your "sneer pocket." As you age, the little round cushion of fat inside your cheek, the official anatomy word is malar fat pad, it slides lower and lower until it comes to rest against your nasolabial fold--making your face a permanent sneer.

This is just a little refresher course. A little step-by-step.

Just a little brushing up. In case you don't recognize yourself.

Now frown. This is your triangularis muscle pulling down the corners of your orbicularis oris muscle.

Pretend you're a twelve-year-old girl who loved her father like crazy.

You're a little preteen girl who needs her dad more than ever before. Who counted on her father always to be there. Imagine you go to bed crying every night, your eyes clamped shut so hard they swell.

The "orange peel" texture of your chin, these "popply" bumps are caused by your mentalis muscle. Your "pouting" muscle. Those frown lines you see every morning, getting deeper, running from each corner of your mouth down to the edge of your chin, those are called marionette lines. The wrinkles between your eyebrows, they're glabellar furrows.

The way your swollen eyelids sag down is called ptosis. Your lateral canthal rhytides, your "crow's-feet," are worse every day and you're only twelve fucking years old for God's sake.

Don't pretend you don't know what this is about.

This is your face.

Now, smile--if you still can.

This is your zygomatic major muscle. Each contraction pulls your flesh apart the way tiebacks hold open the drapes in your living room window. The way cables pull aside a theater curtain, your every smile is an opening night. A premiere. You unveiling yourself.
( More )

In defense of men, we're not all players. There are romantics who don't think about panty lines and don't talk shit about women. Some of us like to wake up early, have sex, and dream about the next encounter throughout the day. Men who are too afraid to talk about feelings are men who will never know real love and have probably never seen a woman pee in front of them before.
But you know, I moved to New York follow my heart. I tend to be an easy heart, and I snapped just like that. I mean, I love my friends that hard, so obviously I'm going to love someone I'm involved with that hard. I just don't always pick the right people. But when it's right it's right, and anyone who doesn't believe in intense all-consuming love is playing it safe. And who wants to go through life playing it fucking safe? More people need some fucking adventure to their lives. So concerned about what who is gonna think. You only live once. It's your life. Grab it by the balls you know? People don't do that anymore. People fucking, they fucking are slackers. They want everything you're supposed to have, but they don't wanna do what it takes to get it. They hide behind the fact that crazy spontaneous gestures of love only exists in the movies. And that's bullshit. Somewhere along the line, the words in that movie and the crazy leap of faith, were ideas in a real person's head. Dreaming is good. Making them a reality without second-guessing yourself. That shit is better.
Girls aren't idiots like guys are. Girls don't sit around worrying about stupid shit all day. They are emotional. They feel things. Now I'm not saying that men need to start crying at Folger coffee commercials, but would it kill em? That's all I'm saying.
There's a great quote, and I can't think of it, but it's like, 'All men owe it to themselves to live an extraordinary life.'
I can relate though, I get in a relationship, and I'm like, whoa, and I go through all the dynamics of it, and then I have a rock life, and it seems like the perception is that rock life negates normalcy. I crave things to be normal more. I don't crave more drama, because I have it, or more partying, because it's inherent. But then you always think the dream is going to come collapsing down, and whoever you love is going to take that love away, because you can't do normal shit like go to the movies or buy groceries. And then sometimes it gets really hard, and your head gets caught in it, and the first thing that I want to do is decompress, and to talk about something normal like, 'do you reallly think I made a mistake by getting those three spider plants? Who will water them?' But by then it's too late, cause you haven't been calling your girlfriend enough to tell her you love her and say all the sappy shit you're supposed to (or feel). So instead of getting to talk about what type of laundry detergent you're supposed to use or share the story about the weird guy at the bar last night. You find yourself on the phone getting yelled at by the one person you really just wanted to talk to. It's madness man.

The excesses of romance make sense to me. Like, I can meet someone and immiedately vibe with them and feel love and feel close enough to care, and I can be very protective and overzealous about it. Then sometimes I'll reflect onto myself while I'm doing these things, and I'll realize I'm at my shit worst. Like, heart on chain, dragging through the mud with ice cream cone and sand behind me. I actually love things so much it kills me. It drives me absolutely mad, and I can't find a place to get jaded. I mean, I've had a succession of romantic downfalls in my life, and yet I don't ever find the jaded part. I don't think, I'm just gonna wait around and see if things will be okay, and maybe this'll all pan out, and maybe the truth will come to me in a week. I never accept that, it has to be immediate. I won't accept less, and if I can't have the immediacy then I invent the myth of why it isn't there.

I moved to New York, because I met a girl. And I fell in love with her. And I didn't want to live another minute without being able to see her whenever I wanted, because I'm a selfish prick that way. But sometimes you gotta be proactive, man. You gotta take what you want, otherwise you might not get it. And you'll be the lonely bastard at the bar, either alone or chained to someone you settled for, aching for that one you let slip away because you were too much of a pussy to throw caution to the wind.

That's my philosophy on love. Move. Take a chance. Have babies. Don't ever settle for less than anything you want. But don't ever let a motherfucker take you for granted.

Go for it, besides...nothing beats living in New York.

Everybody's Free
(to wear sunscreen)

Ladies and Gentlemen of the class of '07... wear sunscreen.

If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be IT.

The long term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience.

I will dispense this advice now.

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they have faded. But trust me, in 20 years you'll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked.

You are NOT as fat as you imagine.

Don't worry about the future; or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubblegum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind; the kind that blindside you at 4pm on some idle Tuesday.

Do one thing every day that scares you.

Sing.

Don't be reckless with other people's hearts, don't put up with people who are reckless with yours.

Floss.

Don't waste your time on jealousy; sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're behind. The race is long, and in the end, it's only with yourself.

Remember compliments you receive, forget the insults; if you succeed in doing this, tell me how.

Keep your old love letters, throw away your old bank statements.

Stretch.

Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with your life. The most interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives, some of the most interesting 40 year olds I know still don't.

Get plenty of calcium.

Be kind to your knees, you'll miss them when they're gone.

Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't, maybe you'll have children, maybe you won't, maybe you'll divorce at 40, maybe you'll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary. Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much or berate yourself, either. Your choices are half chance, so are everybody else's. Enjoy your body, use it every way you can. Don't be afraid of it, or what other people think of it, it's the greatest instrument you'll ever own.

Dance. Even if you have nowhere to do it but in your own living room.

Read the directions, even if you don't follow them.

Do NOT read beauty magazines, they will only make you feel ugly.

Get to know your parents, you never know when they'll be gone for good.

Be nice to your siblings; they are your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.

Understand that friends come and go, but for the precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography in lifestyle because the older you get, the more you need the people you knew when you were young.

Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard; live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft.

Travel.

Accept certain inalienable truths, prices will rise, politicians will philander, you too will get old, and when you do you'll fantasize that when you were young prices were reasonable, politicians were noble and children respected their elders.

Respect your elders.

Don't expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund, maybe you'll have a wealthy spouse; but you never know when either one might run out.

Don't mess too much with your hair, or by the time you're 40, it will look 85.

Be careful whose advice you buy, but, be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia, dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it's worth.

But trust me on the sunscreen.

Perhaps it is all a manifestation,
One that I have created for myself,
In order to make peace with being alone.
But men don't seem to be men anymore,
I was always under the impression,
That when you knew a man,
And he seemed to have intentions,
He made his intentions clear.
None of this "does he like me?" "What signs should I look for?"
Its not only me,
Marina and her father both agree.
Why can men not be men and put pride behind them?
Rejection is a bitch,
I know.
But men are men, and they REFUSE to absolve their traditional role in society,
You know as the "strong" powerful, not to mention "intelligent" one.
Well if they refuse to let women take over,
Then the men of my generation should buck up,
And actually make an attempt toward being what I was always lead to believe men were.
Why then, are we forced to let men rule our society(political leaders and such)
When they are completely incapable of doing the most menial things like asking a woman out on a date? All of this makes no sense.
I still see guys daily say "thats gay" or "No way! chicks do that"
Well you know what buddy? Chicks do pretty much everything.
I mean, no wonder there are so many lesbians,
They all just got tired of trying,
Haha, I'm seriously like 5 months away from turning to the same team as well.
Just because I can't stand this anymore.
I know I'm not the only one too,
Basically, we're on the brink of a gender role reversal,
Either men can accept it,
and go with it.
Or buck the fuck up,
And be men again.