Why Kids Suck

Okay, let me preface this by saying I love kids, which might seem totally at odds with the title of this post. What I mean is, having kids sucks. Kids, themselves, the actual human units known as “children,” are pretty great. They’re cute and they say stupid hilarious things and they’re more honest than any adults I’ve ever met (for better or worse).

BUT. But but but but but. Kids who aren’t just human units and happen to be your human units, whole people for whose lives you are entirely responsible, suck. And I know that they are miracles, and they allegedly turn one into a giant love-machine, and “you don’t even know yourself until you have a child,” and blah blah blah.

That’s all great, but I would rather just not know myself if I have to have a child to do it. For people who want kids, that’s great. But for people who don’t, child-havers, please stop judging us as sub-par humans ’cause we’re just not into it. There are plenty of reasons to have a kid, apparently (I’m pretty sure I’m missing any and all maternal/desire-to-carry-on-the-human-race genes), but all I see are reasons to not have a kid. Such as:

1. They are a 24/7 job. You can’t just shove them away and say, “Well, fuuuuuck this! I’ve had enough of screaming and puking and pooping, and I just want to relax.” You can’t just not take them to school, and listen to their horrible teenage attitudes, and suffer through their ridiculous girlfriend/boyfriend choices. FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE, you are saddled with responsibility that you can never, ever shake, unless Child Protective Services gets involved.
2. They are expeeeeensive. Money money monn-ay…all gone.
3. They ruin your body. (Men, fuck you.) They rip up your lady parts, make your flat stomach scarred and saggy, drag your boobs to the floor (haha I typo’d that as “boops” at first…can that be new slang?), etc. You can always tell a mom from a non-mom unless they had that sucker when they were 15 and bounced back like a rubber band.
4. They never care about you as much as you care about them. Sure, they love you as much, but they don’t worry about you every second of every day and think about your well-being all the time and how their everylittledecision might affect you. That kind of sounds like having a boyfriend who’s just not that into you, except you can never break up.
5. If you fuck them up, you fuck. Them. Up. They will be in therapy forever, crying into a couch cushion, just because you scared them with a Bobo doll or had a fight in front of them. They’re like little sponges that you have to squeeze ever-so-gently, or you’ll leave them dried up and bent out of shape forever. (Damn, I’m proud of that analogy.)

And those are just the negative reasons! The positive reasons go on and on and on:

1. Hot young body for years longer!
2. Tons of extra money to spend on yourself! Trips, clothes, wine, cars, trips!
3. No one to look after–more alone time!
4. More sex!
5. More drinking!
6. More motivation to take up a cool hobby when you’re older–salsa dancing? Pottery? Windsurfing?
7. More of ANY-FUCKING-THING YOU WANT, BECAUSE IT’S ALL ABOUT YOU!

That’s the general idea, you see. The all time, number-one reason I don’t want kids is because I am selfish. To have a child, you give up a huge part of yourself, a huge piece of your life, and a world of possibility you might never get back. It’s the most selfless thing you could ever do…and, ladies and gentleman, I applaud you. And I’ll keep on applauding you when I’m 35, sitting in a comfy living room painting my nails and admiring my new expensive clothes, with not a binky or a bottle in sight. Cheers!

Great and Terrible Beauty (Products)

If you read this blog, you know that I’m a pervert  I love Ian Somherhalder   most of my posts are stupid I love makeup. I love to put it on my face, in my tea, and draw on things with it. Okay, only the first one, but trust me, I. Love. Makeup. And I consider myself something of an expert, since I’ve been messing around with it since I was 11.

The thing about makeup, though, is that it’s just like a man: some of it is just fucking terrific and leaves you glowing, and some of it is trashy and awful. And, also like men, the awful ones might surprise you.

So I did what I do best and put together a little list. I full expect my lady readers to run to their makeup drawers and throw out everything I say is bad. And dudes, I would say to buy your gals some of the nice things, but then they might take it as a, “Hey, ugly, please put this on to cover up your face” kind of thing and that would suck. Maybe just stick with lingerie.

Maybelline Great Lash Mascara: Terrible. This mascara is super popular and is always winning beauty awards, but I think it is one of the worst eyelash enhancers ever invented. Personally, I think the only reason it’s popular is because it’s ghetto cheap and it’s been around since the 80s, so moms keep buying it while fondly reminiscing about Duran Duran concerts. It does NOTHING for your eyelashes except make them darker and clump them together.

Maybelline Volum’ Express Mascara: Great. See, I’m not biased against Maybelline or anything–this mascara has been my one and only since I first bought the yellow tube. I seriously have about five tubes rolling around in my makeup case. It does exactly what you want mascara to do: makes your eyelashes super thick and long. To be fair, I have very long eyelashes, but they’re not thick, so I’m not sure about the fantastic lengthening powers of this stuff, but it makes your eye-dusters super lush.

Covergirl Trublend Pressed Powder: Terrible. Okay, maybe it’s not terrible, but I gotta have some continuity with my rating system here. This stuff is just powder for your face, and it’s not good for your skin and looks like powder when it’s on. Not the worst thing ever, but certainly not good for the whole “flawless face” look that, um, everyone wants. Grandmas who like to look like they just dunked their face into a 40’s flour bucket, rejoice–this one’s for you.

Physicians Formula Mineral Wear Talc-Free Mineral Airbrushing Loose Powder: Great. And yes, that’s the full name. It is lovely. It doesn’t make my ridiculously sensitive skin break out, the colors are really blend-y, and unless you apply it super heavy-handedly it doesn’t look powdery. Plus, one container lasts forrreverrr.

Physicians Formula Blush: Terrible. (I can’t find it on their website, so I don’t know the full name, but maybe they know it’s terrible and discontinued it.) The palest pink gives you rouged-on bright red cheeks no matter how little you use, and the applicator is weird and doesn’t work. I love Physicians Formula but this stuff was/is terrrrible.

Logona Blush Powder Duos: Great. So great they deserve all-caps. GREAT! If you’re not familiar, Logona is a German, BDIH-certified brand of all-natural makeup that is fucking stellar. I get their stuff at a crunchy natural-junk store near my job, and everything they make is good (their red lip pencil is amazing). This blush is right on par, and the palette has two colors for the price of one.

L’Oreal HIP High Intensity Pigments Concentrated Eye Shadow Duo: Terrible. Now, I have only tried one color set of this, and it was greens, which is a little weird to begin with. So these might not be all bad. But holy fuck, do I hate this eyeshadow. It goes on really dark and uneven, some parts going on super matte and color-packed and other parts sheer. A clean sweep leaves you looking like you rubbed your eyes after crying. AWFUL.

Revlon Colorstay 16 Hour Eyeshadow: Great. I own about seven different color palettes of these. They are color-true, although a little sheer, but you can layer them to get the darkness you want, and they don’t smudge unless you fuck around with your eyes, and then what do you expect to happen! These are, I have to say, definitely not the best eyeshadows in the world or anything, but totally solid for the price.

Okay, stop reading, and go throw out your old-ass green-and-pink tubes of Great Lash already!

A Heartfelt Drunk Letter to Santa

So I just watched the Glee Christmas episode and it definitely put me in the holiday spirit. Mostly because it was about Santa, and I love Santa. But then it reminded me that I have to go Christmas shopping, and that killed my deck-the-halls buzz.

I. HATE. CHRISTMAS. SHOPPING. I mean, I’m not a dick. I love buying people presents, and I love shopping, and I love Christmas. It should add up to a full-on orgasmic mall experience. I even love stores around the holidays, because they have twinkly window displays and the mall has a big tall tree and a chubby mall Santa.

But. Buying some people gifts is SO HARD. Take my dad, for instance. His interests include Boring Things and Other Boring Things. And he has all the equipment necessary to take part in said Boring Things. What am I supposed to get him? A pencil holder made out of a soup can? A hand print turned into a reindeer? I wish I hadn’t used all those brilliant ideas back in my youth, because now I’m fucked.

I mean, I am easy to shop for. I like almost everything. You would almost have to try to find a gift that I wouldn’t like. And even if you managed (say, by purchasing a life-sized Hitler doll that can raise its arm and sing holiday songs) I would still pretend I liked it, so it wouldn’t matter anyway. But it seems like everyone I know has such weird specific interests, and I have such a tiny amount of money, and it is just basic math:

(No $$$) * (Friends w/ Specific Interests) * (Family w/ Specific Interests) * (# of Gifts) = FUCKED

If only everyone I knew was super jonesing for things I am good at making. Like origami cranes, and bad jokes. At least with guys it’s easy, because you just dress up as Super Slutty Santa and do things to them that you’d do to a candy cane. (Unless you’re a freak who bites candy canes, and then you are in trouble, because not only will that be a really shitty gift but you will also scar them for life as far as the holidays are concerned.) Although I actually don’t go that gift route with guys, because unless you’re a frigid bitch that’s the same kind of thing they’re getting on a regular, except that you’re dressed as Santa. So fuck, there is yet another present I need to buy.

I’m just going to drown my tears in a vat of heavily spiked eggnog and write Santa a heartfelt drunk letter asking him to buy all my presents for me. Cheers!

Hold Me Closer, Terrible Dancer

I sure do love to dance.

It’s a shame I’m so terrible (not that that stops me).