“Your appointment is at 5:15 and your name is Ayan Bihi.”
I was all ready to explain how I may look Eastern European, but I am in fact Somalian by association, in that I was adopted by Somalian parents and raised in a household that serves really incredible SOMALIAN RICE that Ayan does not know the recipe for EVENTHOUGH I HAVE BEEN BUGGING HER ABOUT IT FOR TWO WEEKS STRAIGHT.
As it were, they didn’t even ask my name or ID me or care about where I’m going and where I’m from…
The make-up artist had bright turquoise pizzazz around her eyes and altogether far too much going on.
I was dressed in the most minimal girl-next-door ensemble: dark cuffed blue jeans (not tight/not loose), grey and white striped thinning old shirt with holes in it Jenna left at my last apartment about a year ago (pretty much the hottest “this old thing?” shirt ever), FAUX KEDS.
Not that I’m Kimora Lee Simmons or Bai Ling and totally kooky and off the wall in terms of attire, but I dress girl-next-door minimal about 6 times a year, max.
So I thought that she probably thinks that I’m superboring and would never do something like wear turquoise eye make-up…and I could have asked for turquoise fun that would have gone great with this new yellow/pink/green/blue/purple plaid shirt I traded with Alison for this orange/yellow/pink waitress dress with 49 heads all over it when she and Dane and Leah and I had a garage sale a couple of weeks ago…BUT the fact of the matter WAS, that I was wearing a red string in my hair at that moment and who knows what could happen if I walked home all totally uncoordinated ‘n shit, right??
So I was like “Hey girl, please make my skin look better than it actually is and give me some fresh summer make-up that’s not a pain and a melting hazard for summer”. Except that I don’t know how to say “melting hazard” in French so I don’t think she got that part…
ANYWAY…after looking up and down and left and stageleft and blink blink blink and close and open and stageright, she explained to me everything she used and told me she would bring it all to the cash and I could look around at whatever else I needed and then go to the cash and I bolted out the back door without buying anything when I realized she was repping l’Oréal and I had thought she was just some Pharmaprix Drug Mart beauty section lady I didn’t recognize, not that I hang out there looking at expensive nailpolish on the regular, inevitably settling for my ultimate classic, Revlon 235 Twinkled Pink that coats my 10 in Pepto Bismol flirtatiousness like Barbie is my older sister and my name is…Skipper??
What kind of name is Skipper?? The name of one who skips grades and goes to university at age 15??? THASRIGHT. Wait no, that was my mother.
SPEAKING OF WHICH….Mother’s Day is this Sunday in case you care!
I do.
Moral of the story is, I left Pharmaprix Drug Mart hoping I wouldn’t run into anyone important on the way home (ie: Camilla Scott, Jonovision, Camilla Scott, Jonovision.)
I looked sort of scary I think…the way make-up artists look (except for Bobbi Brown who always looks like a fresh-faced tween) and the way girls with dyed black hair and coloured contact lenses that work at tanning salons look…not that I’ve ever been to one of those places because I’m surely never that vain; I only know a bit about what those girls look like because I see them on their smoke breaks outside where the real-life UV rays hang out, because they all smoke too, not to jump to conclusions or make generalizations about an entire race of aspiring Playboy bunnies or anything…
Okay…SO, the REAL moral of the story is that I haven’t felt like writing here for awhile because I feel quite unproductive in other realms of life, such as the HAVING A JOB ONE…
But then I got all divinely inspired when I went to go to bed after stealthily affixing 9 garage sale flyers on THE MAIN without having to talk to ANYONE I KNOW although I probably saw 6 people I just didn’t really feel like talking to and pretended I didn’t see and somehow even managed to slip and out of the Blizzarts bathroom on a flyer mission without so much as making eye contact with ANYONE and it was getting sort of bumping in there so I was pretty pleased with my hiding skills.
So I went to go to bed and decided it would be a good idea to wash off my clown face.
[SIDENOTE: Hey hot teen ravers! Cool idea for face-paint to wear to Coda Special Club tonight, no? Nice step away from the star over your eye look, no? No?? You guys?]
And I had to wash it FOUR TIMES before all that shiz was gone and I looked more like how I actually look than 10 years older than I look…which is 37 unfortunately. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, or with Teri Hatcher for that matter…
Hatcher is actually over 40. I had initially planned to put some fun picture where she looks scary and like she's had work done but then I remembered that she was great on Seinfeld and when that episode airs I'm sure her career will really take off and she'll be able to afford matching Crocs for she and her daughter (ie: her substitute for a man in her life.)
ANYWAY. Homegirl put makeup all over my neck and even behind my ears, it was silly. Does she do that everyday?? I mean I’m no baby fresh Nicole Kidman faced freak of nature but to wear that much make-up is just ridiculous, even if you ARE at times self-conscious about how you’re no baby fresh Nicole Kidman faced freak of nature…
I called my girl Danielle after my make-over and told her that I look like I’m wearing lots of make-up and I would not like to roll around with Scott Speedman or John Mayer or say, Mark Ruffalo in a white-sheeted bed of 300 thread-count Egyptian cotton because they would be all “I am never inviting you back to my suite at the Chateau Marmont ever again. YOU WEAR FAR TOO MUCH MAKE-UP TO NOT FUCK UP THESE SHEETS.”
I went on to say that “Holy shit. Have you seen John Mayer all up in the tabs canoodling with Jennifer Aniston?? When did he become superhot TATTOO GUY??? Into it. Totally, totally hot.”
In other news, John Mayer is looking fiiiiiiiiiine…
ANISTON SHMANISTON. Let's check out his new sleeve.
Cool. I guess....
Furthermore, if you were wondering if that was me ranting about hot teen ravers in The Mirror this week, wonder no longer...
PEACE GUYS!
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