Thursday, July 30, 2015

GUUUUUURL Of The Day: All Of Us, For Not Being On A Jet Ski With Jennifer Lawrence And Amy Schumer

A photo posted by @amyschumer on

I mean, can a bitch hop on one of those banana boat things? An inner-tube? Some type of shit?

Here's Jennifer Lawrence driving Amy Schumer around on a GD jet ski, gallivanting around like a couple of Ariels, while I went to jury duty today. (Also, how long can I milk that annoying situation? Just today, or what?) I hate watersports (ZING-A-THON!) and even I want to get in on this action.

And this wasn't the only activity of the day.

A photo posted by @amyschumer on

Of course, Jen and her tiny, baby-sized belly button are at the top of the pyramid. If I were part of these festivities, I would mos def be the homegirl lying in the front, and not because I was wearing a knee brace and just got a fierce-ass perm. I just hate participation.

Actually, I wouldn't even be on the boat. If Amy Schumer and Jennifer Lawrence called me on a three-way call, one from a phone that was shaped like a pair of lips and one from a clear plastic phone with colorful wires inside, and personally invited me to go frolic in the sea, I would be like, "Sorry, bitch, I'm watching Judge Judy in a room darkened with blackout curtains." And then I would shove more white cheddar popcorn into my pie hole. Because that is my actual life.

Let's just try to end this on a positive note.

SOS, send more popcorn.

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Wednesday, July 29, 2015

Beauty Science Fair: I Tried Really, Really Natural Beauty Products

I go through weird cycles in my life, where at the pinnacle of thinking every single thing on Earth is probably slowly turning all of my cells into tiny Chernobyl victims, I find myself trying to be more natural in my beauty product choices. I know, I know. Me: the one with the fake boobs, and the fake highlights, and the Botox and the Latisse. I KNOW. I'm a damn lie and a hypocrite, but every little bit counts. (???)

I recently read somewhere (where? I don't know, that would be too responsible) that the two most toxic beauty products are perfumes and antiperspirants. So, I thought that I would try to find natural alternatives to my typical shit: slatherings on slatherings of Dove deodorant and an epidermis sprayed to the hilt with Marc Jacobs Honey.

The following is a true account of these naturalistic trials and tribulations.

Fragrance Swap: Vanilla Extract

I remember reading a few years ago that Jennifer Love Hewitt used vanilla extract as a perfume, and she was quoted as saying, "Men are attracted to the scent! One time, I put it on and four different guys were like, 'You smell amazing!'" Insert your own one billion eyerolls here. You can quote me on that.

So, a couple nights ago I decided to give this complete douchey-nonsense-sounding-nonsense a whirl, and put some on my wrists and neck right before bed. When I first put on the vanilla extract, I detected slight notes of cat pee and it felt kind of sticky, but both seemed to fade over time.

I forced my husband to smell my wrist and describe what he smelled in detail. After several seconds of sniffing, he said, "It smells just like the cocoa butter you wear every day," and also, "Oh, did you put on coconut oil?" NOW THAT'S WHAT I CALL EMPIRICAL DATA, FOLKS! (volume 16)

By the time I woke up I smelled nothing. Like less than the amount of times I want to hear LMFAO's "Sexy and I Know It" again, amounts of nothing. So, roughly -29834902 amount of scent.

But I had not finished with this experiment. Maybe I just hadn't used enough. A few days later, I tried to dab it on my wrist gracefully by tipping the bottle and making direct skin-to-glass contact, like I was Elizabeth Taylor in a GD White Diamonds commercial, and ended up splashing it all over myself and the floor. I am not made for the glamorous life. Needless to say, I had a lot more extract on my skin.

A few hours later, I again smelled nothing. C'est Fini. I'm over it.

Conclusion: This is pointless and sucks. Save yourself the heartache and splash zone and use it to bake some MF-ing Martha Stewart cookies. And unless J Love wants to sell me her actual hair, I'm not buying her bullshit again.

Antiperspirant Swap: Green Tidings Natural Deodorant

This is not my first foray into natural deodorants. I used to use one that was locally made and had, like, two ingredients (I KNOW, HIPSTER-ASS-HIPSTER). It worked really well, but it also irritated my armpits like a mofo.

Riddle me this: why can I put a GD ocean of chemicals on my pits and nary a bump pops up, but when I use the natural shit it's Burnapalooza 2015, with Rash Fest on the side stage? How is this the way that life works? Cover that in the 2016 presidential debate, plz.

This time I went for the Green Tidings Extra Strength Natural Deodorant in Lavender, because it was on Amazon Prime, and I'm a lazy-ass-lazy. It was $14.99, which I feel is pretty excessive in the ol' cost department, but what can I say? I still bought it.

I've been using the deodorant for about a week, and here's what I've found: As far as making me not smelly, I would say it works pretty well. It's like one million degrees outside, and if I get whore-in-a-church sweaty, I just have to reapply and I'm fine. I've worked out while wearing it, too, and felt a touch stank, but nothing over-the-top.

(Youngsters, this gif is from the movie Over the Top. Never watch it.)

In the rashy department, things are pretty meh. I try to wait as long as possible to apply this stuff, especially after shaving, but it's still all a little burn-y. And sometimes irritation is included in that goody bag. This is what the company says about pit irritation:

A rash can be due to the any of the following: 

1)  Detox reaction.  This is your body expelling all the nasty ingredients from your previous toxic deodorant, and finally having the freedom to sweat naturally again.  This type of rash clears up within 1 month.  You can try to go without any deodorant whenever you can, or use the vinegar spray, below, while your body detoxes.

2) pH adjustment.  For some, the deodorant will irritate the skin as the body adjusts to its pH levels.  Sometimes this can even occur after having used the deodorant for some time.  A simple remedy is to combine 1 tbsp. apple cider vinegar with one cup of distilled water.  Spray underarms.  Let dry.  Then apply  deodorant.  Repeat for a week.  If this does not work, take 1 week off from the deodorant and use only the vinegar spray (which will help with odor, too).  Begin using the deodorant again after a week has passed. 

3) Skin irritation due to one of the ingredients.  Your body could be sensitive to one of the natural ingredients.  Lavender essential oil is irritating to some,  Stop using if this is the case, and contact us at support@greentidings.org.

I can tell you this -- I WILL NOT partake in extra steps of spraying vinegar and all of that shitty pit jazz. It's not that serious.

Conclusion: I'm going to stick with my natural and irritated pit concoction for now. It works pretty well, and it's worth it to me. If you have armpits of steel, I would suggest this. If your pits have the constitution of a Victorian Lady, you might want to do a hard pass on this one.

Now I'm off to oil pull, drink the eff out of some apple cider vinegar and put coconut oil on everything, all while Latisse-ing my lashes into Muppet territory.

 Peace and love. Peace and love.

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Monday, July 20, 2015

GUUUUUURL Of The Day: Ben Affleck's Beautiful Puppy, Who Doesn't Have Time For You

Have you heard the very, very important news that the Affleck family has a relatively new puppy? I don't know why you wouldn't already have this information, as it should be the hearth of your brain knowledge, but maybe you've been busy doing open heart surgeries for a living and haven't heard.

This unnamed fluffy bundle is undoubtedly adorable, but also clearly doesn't have time for your shit, or walking. He or she must be a fan of the Arianna Grande mode of transportation, which is understandable. Walking is for boring plebs.

Here are some other things this puppy doesn't have time for:

  • Ben Affleck's (possibly/seemingly) ungrateful attitude about having such an adorable treasure. 
  •  Ben's flippy wave bangs.

  •  To pick up some Salon Selectives from Target. She'll just get some later on Amazon Prime.

  • To keep caring about the second season of True Detective. "But, really, is that Rose from Don't Tell Mom the Babysitter's Dead?" she keeps thinking. It's tedious on a puppy brain.

Keep doing you, fluffy baby. Don't let 'Fleck dull your shine. Or make your paws touch the ground.

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Thursday, July 16, 2015

Lazy Blogging: Read Something I've Already Written (90210 Edition)

As evidenced by my Brenda Walsh t-shirt in this picture (and my 9485398525943 previous mentions), I am a big fan of Beverly Hills, 90210. So, when I got the chance to write a 90210-themed beauty slideshow for Allure, I was like:

If you are firmly on Team Brenda, like it's a '92/'07 hybrid year, you can go check out "The Best Throwback Looks from Beverly Hills, 90210" here. If you're Team Kelly, my condolences. Please don't get shot with a stray gang bullet and get amnesia.

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Thursday, July 9, 2015

The Lazy Diaries: The Easiest Tool To Curl Your Hair AKA The Beachwaver

Hey, have you heard? I'm lazy as shit. In this episode of the Lazy Diaries, I cover Sarah Potempa's Beachwaver, the easiest tool to curl human hair. And probably horse hair, but I haven't tried that.

You can buy it a few places, including Ulta (you can use a coupon on it, too!) and even Target. I bought mine here from Birchbox, and used a 20% off newbie person promo code (I just googled to find one).

Via la laziness!

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Wednesday, July 8, 2015

I Made Every Single Late '90s/Early '00s Beauty Mistake, Let Us Never Forget These Lessons

What a time to be alive, what a time to be alive. I'm going to keep it real on these blog streets -- coming of age in the '90s and '00s was a hideous experience. I'm not trying to diminish other time periods to get your first period, but these decades were trash. Maybe not even worthy of being called trash. Like, trash juice.

There were so many horrendous beauty things considered acceptable, and even desirable, during this time, that it's almost hard to remember them all. Thankfully for my brain (but not for my pride or my eyeballs), I have photographic evidence of all of these tragic missteps. Let's journey back in time to relive all of the magic bad shit, with the top five things I learned from my late '90s/early '00s beauty mistakes.

Lesson #1: There is such a thing as too blonde.

While living in the era of Pam-Anderson-is-QWEEN, it was hard to grasp the idea that hair can be TOO blonde. That's like saying Baywatch running is TOO slow-motion. Or Tommy Lee steers a boat with his ween TOO well. That can't exist.

But when you're dyeing your hair every two weeks with platinum box dye from Walgreens until it's the color and texture of cotton-flavored cotton candy, it's time to re-evaluate your hair color choices. Life is not a Christina Aguilera "Dirrty" video. I didn't learn this lesson for roughly eight years, but it's still a lesson to be learned.

Lesson #2: There is also such a thing as too big and dangle-y of a belly button ring.

I really tried in earnest to find a picture featuring one of my most giant belly button rings, but I guess that disposable Kodak camera got lost in life's shuffle. Small gifts. We'll just have to use this pretty run-of-the-mill dangler as evidence.

Early ought belly rings were at least the size of a strip of bacon, and sold at a minimum of 27 malls kiosks per every shopping mall in America. This was before you were bombarded with flat iron kiosk employees. This was even before flat irons. Just use your imagination, youngsters.

The variety in the rings was dazzling, literally. Every belly ring was bling-ier and more grandiose than the next. Do you want an actual bedazzled license plate of your home state to be tethered to your abdomen? You got it, dude!

How nubile belly button skin was not ripped apart by these monstrosities on a daily basis has to be at least the 31st wonder of the world. Please don't repeat this trend, youths.

Lesson #3: Wearing a Playboy bunny head sticker in a tanning bed should be avoided at all costs.

Okay, so you can't actually see the Playboy bunny-shaped area of untanned skin on my hip, because my hooded, sleeveless top from Wet Seal is thankfully covering it, BUT IT'S THERE, LURKING.

I recently read that use of tanning beds has dropped dramatically in the past few years, and halleloo for that. Don't eff with that mess. But back in the tanning heyday of '90s/'00s, there was a weird and disturbing phenomenon of people putting stickers on their bodies and tanning to create temporary and usually ridiculously-themed shapes on their sexy parts, like skin Lucky Charms.

Why did humanity take part in such an unnecessary and dangerous activity? I don't know. Maybe I'll donate my brain to science, like a formerly-tanned, tacky, non-serial killer version of John Wayne Gacy.

Lesson #4: Using a drill on natural nails 
probably isn't a great idea.

LORD JESUS, LOOK AT MY NAILS. You would've had to pry the chocolate brown, long-as-hell, square, acrylic nails from my cold, dead fingertips of late '90s me. I loved those bitches almost as much as I loved a festive choker.

Not only did they look atrocious, they were a real dick when it came to my nail health. My nail tech used a nail file attached to an actual drill on my real nails, like we were posted up in aisle three of Home Depot. I am not a medical professional, or really any kind of professional, but that cannot be good for your nails. Why this was so widely practiced and accepted in the nail world at the time remains a mystery bigger than Big Foot's whereabouts.

A big, acrylic thumbs-up to you, too, big guy.

Lesson #5: Eyebrows may never grow back, so be 
conservative with those tweezers.

I look back at pictures of myself from these decades of yore and deeply mourn for my lost eyebrows. Where were they? What had I done to them? Were they crying, and that's why they looked like a teardrop?

I was lucky in that my brow follicles didn't just up and quit my face. I know plenty of people that are completely unable to grow eyebrows now, thanks to tweezer abuse of the '90s and '00s. Kids of today, please know this: eyebrow styles come and go. Leave your GD brow hairs alone for the most part.

Bonus Lesson: Diamonds are forever. So are tramp stamps.

I'm not at all against tattoos. I think they are beautiful. But I happen to hate everything on earth after (at most) two years, so tattoos are a terrible idea for me. Especially when the only one that I have is a circa-'99 butterfly, forever hovering over my aging ass crack. It's like a constant butt billboard that screams, "Life: Proceed with caution because this too shall pass."

Please share your horrendous '90s and '00s beauty mistakes with me, so I don't feel so, so alone.

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Wednesday, July 1, 2015

Woman Crush Wednesday: Britney Spears, Forever Ever

I'm not going to pretend that this "Woman Crush Wednesday" thing is going to be a weekly deal, because let's be real -- I suck at consistency, and I also got a hybrid emotional reaction of bored and annoyed when I typed the phrase "Woman Crush Wednesday." So, let's just see how this goes.

I really just wanted to highlight some of the favorite times that my eyeballs have ever had, and most of them are courtesy of Mizz Britney Spears. Because if you can't get behind giant white tube socks and possible Sketchers Step Ups™ paired with hair so tousled it looks like that of a person dwelling with dinosaurs, then I don't even know what you stand for anymore. This is why my eyes exist. They live for this shit.

Now, shall we?

My absolute favorite Brit Brit is experienced in the times when she's being her true self, and homie is never more herself than when leaving a Starbucks. Would humans even know of Starbucks if it weren't for this angel among us? If they haven't given this woman a black card filled to the brim with a lifetime supply of free Frapps, then they are all a bunch of GD Jon Snows.

Here's my BFF demonstrating another reason I love her so much -- she doesn't have a clue how to wear clothes. It's adorable. It's like she's never seen any of the following: a magazine, a mannequin, another person, an American Girl doll, Winnie the Pooh (okay, maybe; he doesn't wear pants) or Fashion Plates. I hate when someone else dresses her. Like this:

Okay, I just lied right to your face, because I love this. I'm not a monster. Levi Strauss' ghost came through a portal from the spirit world just to witness this moment. (I'm assuming.)

The final reason BS is best -- she's like a glittery unicorn personified:



Literally glittery!

But honest with her emotions. Just like a unicorn.

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