Showing posts with label Teenagers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Teenagers. Show all posts

Monday, August 31, 2015

5 Beauty Lessons I Learned From My '90s Mall Job

A photo posted by Shannon Ray (Gloss And Dirt) (@glossanddirt) on

I grew up in a relatively small town, and teenaged it up in the '90s. So, suffice it to say, malls were everything. And kind of the only thing to do, save hanging out in giant groups in front of 7-11 and paging people from payphones. I worked at CHAMPS SPORTS in the mall, which is probably the most ill-fitting mall job I could ever have, as a staunch sports h8r.

Before we get started here, let me set the scene for you: I was wearing a pink ice ring and a gold anklet I got from the mall jewelry kiosk, which hit my ankle just above my Adidas shell-toes or Pumas, depending on the day at Champs. I had a haircut and chunky highlights also from the mall (see above), but more on that later. It was 1998.

This was actually my third job, and maybe where I learned the most. At least beauty-wise. My second job was at a car dealership, where I learned that men in their 30's will give 16-year-old girls cigarettes if asked, but that's not a super-helpful Soul Sunday lesson. Instead, let's go to the mall and see what I beauty info I gleaned from doing time there.

1. Jerry Maguire is an actual person.

Okay, so I straight-up lied to your face. There are only four beauty lessons here. This first one has nothing to do with beauty, but I needed to share this story with the world (i.e. the five people that will read this). My Assistant Manager's name at Champs Sports was JERRY MAGUIRE. And I could never get over it.

Him: "Hi, I'm the new Assistant Manager, Jerry Maguire"

Me: "Wait, what? Like JERRY MAGUIRE, Jerry Maguire????"

Him: "Yes."

Me: "Wow! What was that like, when you first heard about the movie? Did you freak out? Did you scream in the movie theater? Did you pee just a little bit? Did you slap someone with a pair of satin gloves?"

Him: "No. It wasn't really a big deal."


YOU DON'T EVEN DESERVE A MOVIE NAME, SIR. NOT EVEN A TOM CRUISE MOVIE. I spoke to him as little as possible after that.

2. Mall hair cuts can eff you up, man.

My actual haircut was pretty much this gif. It was very shitty.

I got my hair done in the mall because, uhh doy, I worked there and could strut my ass down there in less time than it took to drink an Orange Julius. A perfectly pleasant-ish woman close to retirement age would highlight and cut it to my non-specification every couple months. I said I wanted to have hair the color of Heather Locklear's (THIS IS SO '90s), and ended up with chunky highlights. I told her to give my a fun haircut, and ended up having THAT for my senior pictures.

Listen, #NotAllMallHaircuts are bad haircuts. Just choose your adventure carefully. And bring extra Heather Locklear pictures.

3. Work your shit, even when you get in trouble for it.

A part of the Champs Sports sporty uniform included khaki shorts. My shorts happened to be very short khaki shorts. During one of my short-shorted shifts, the Regional Manager came to visit the store. This man informed me that my shorts were too short. I told him I wasn't changing, and the only reason people even came in the store was because of my shorts. Oh, 17-year-old bravado, you are such an asshole-y card. I somehow did not get fired, or even in trouble, and I kept wearing the shorts.

Bottom line -- if ever there is a time to show all that gam, it's when you're a rude 17-year-old. So do you, and eff what a mid-level manager type has to say. Have you seen Kylie Jenner?

4. You can still lace up a Nike with really long acrylic nails.

My high school acrylic nails were long as hell. They were so long that they almost started curling back toward my palm. But I didn't let those plastic talons hold me back from completing my mall job duties. I could lace a K Swiss in record time. I could spray the Michael Jordan cologne sample on the drop of a dime. (Am I writing a poem right now?) I could ring up those no-show athletic socks tout suite.

Other non-mall job duties I could perform included: inserting/removing contact lenses, applying chocolate brown lipstick with just a hint of frost, and opening and closing the clasps on chokers from Contempo Casuals.

Don't you ever let someone tell you your beauty choices are limiting and ridiculous, even if they probably are.

5. Cocoa butter is the tits.

My manager at Champs Sports was a giant of a man with deep, glowy skin, and probably the last person I would think would give my a beauty love to last a lifetime. He was a really manly type of dude.

But one day, after a long shift of my adolescent complaining about dry hands, he opened a drawer and tossed me a tube of something. "What's this?" I said, completely unfamiliar with this new lotion he had tossed into my Edward Scissorhands hands. He was like, "You've never heard of cocoa butter? Try it." AND THAT'S WHEN I FELL IN MF-ing LOVE. (With the cocoa butter, not the manager. He was like 30-something.)

If you have read this blog for even three seconds, you know I have an undying, ride-or-die love for cocoa butter. It's one of the only products I have used consistently for over 15 years. And I owe it all to that man, whose name I can't remember, because it wasn't Jerry Maguire.

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Wednesday, September 17, 2014

Lazy Blogging: Read Something That I Already Wrote

pic via allure
After getting nostalgic for the teen flicks of yesteryear (they don't make that shit like they used to, et al), I wrote a fun little ditty for Allure this month featuring some of my all-time favorite teen movie queens and their flawless beauty looks.

If you want to see the homies I chose, you can check it out here. If not, I still love you.

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Tuesday, September 2, 2014

An Introspective Look (HAHAHA, YEAH RIGHT) At The Unauthorized Saved By The Bell Story

We open on throngs of screaming kids (Jesus, take the wheel) at a SBTB probable mall appearance in 1990. It's the height of the kids' popularity, and bitches be wilding, et al. "But it wasn't always this way," Screech ruminates, and we go back TWO WHOLE YEARS to see the rocky start.

Right from the jump off we learn that this is Screech's (okay, Dustin Diamond, complete birth name) story. Well, kind of. He's apparently an executive producer, but didn't contribute to the script. Or the production. This shit is way #unauthorized. And jankety.

We learn that the OG show was called Good Morning, Miss Bliss, because HELLO, IT'S HAYLEY MF-ING MILLS. Google that shit if you're too young to pick up what I'm throwing down. Blah, blah, blah, it gets cancelled and morphs into Saved by the Bell. My favorite part during this "act" was the total shade thrown at Jennie Garth, who was up for the Kelly Kapowski part. The show biz-y mofo's were all, "We can do better." HAHAHA. Take that, Kelly Taylor!

The kids are doing their boring homeschool, or whatever you call on-set learin' times, and we get to see Slater wearing all of THIS. We also get to see Zach (Zack?) dying his roots. I feel you, bro.

The big wigs tell the kids that the ratings suck a fat one. But don't worry, the ratings are amazing in the next scene! Wowee wowee wow!

Now we're back to the opening scene, where girls are literally ripping the shirt from Zach(k)'s tiny body. Is this nip pic illegal? Also, everyone in this movies seems super Canadian.

We next see Screech going through such tough times as: not getting groupie strange and the wardrobe lady saying, "I hate working with kids!" Ruff. This all leads to daydreams comprised of whatever the eff this is:

via lifetime tv tumblr
Mark-Paul Z likes Lisa/Lark, but she's a Jehovah's Witness, so she can't go on dates. But then Tiffani-Amber and Mark-Paul (Yeezus, with all of the damn names) have to kiss, and they maybe like doing it, or something. Unclear.

I 100% had that shirt in 1993. I'm talking about Mark-Paul's. Why is this my life?

Everyone starts hating Screech/Dustin's ass because he laughed at Jessie/Elizabeth's hilarious "I'm so excited...I'm so...scared," pill scene, so he goes on a garbage-can-kicking/drinking-straight-vodka-from-a-flask binge. Sacre bleu! (Remind me to tell you the story of me throwing up in the yard of a party after drinking a water bottle filled with vodka at 16. It was a straight horror movie. You've got to come harder than that, Screech/Dustin.)

Then Screech/Dustin allegedly punches out this kid, which I can 100% guarantee did not happen IRL. He also does karate and drinks from a flask again. Where the shit does a 16 year old kid get a flask? I don't even have a flask and I'm a grown ass woman. Do I need a flask? Is that what the kids are doing these days?

All the kids are doing press tours, and poor Screech/Dustin has to go to Spartanburg, SC (NC?). NOT PARIS, USA. He again drinks from the flask, which may or may not have a dragon on it. It might be a yin yang symbol. Again, unclear. He also tells his dad that he got laid. Guh-ross, amirite?

Everything starts going crazy (in the most tame way possible). Jessie and Kelly quit, and Screech/Dustin starts taking the marijuanas. THE GATEWAY DRUG. After being a total druggy, Screech/Dustin get blackmailed over a video of him smoking pot. I mean, how much can one person take?!?

Finally, the children all graduate and we can put this shitshow to bed. This was the least scandalous unauthorized form of anything that I've ever seen. I was 0.000000% shocked by anything. Good job not being terrible kids, I guess?

Did you watch this mess? What did you think?

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Wednesday, December 18, 2013


A little rundown of this gem of a trailer -- Jenelle is obviously still going to be my hate-vorite this season. If you can stare into that crazy roots/Tiffany choker/eyebrow situation and NOT feel love, then I'm sorry for you. Plus, her boyfriend has highlights and wears leather cuffs! Please let him be in a Daughtry cover band. Not to mention, Babs is back, mofos! Babs saying, "I didn't paht the needuhl in huh ahm," while wearing a dalmatian-esque slinky top should be my life's new ringtone.

And chunky highlights girl might be getting a divorce from the new Affliction-shirted hubsand! Sacre bleu.

Oh, and those other two boring turkey sandwiches with a side of sour cream and onion chips are there, too.  I hate that I love you, Teen Mom 2.

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Monday, January 7, 2013

This Is Why I Can Never Have Kids

Have you guys heard about how Farrah from OG Teen Mom (RIP) tried to wax her three year old kid's unibrow? Yes? No? Not familiar? Just go read this blog of hers first so we're all on the same damn page. First off, I would be remiss if I didn't say that homegirl should not be writing things. She's using emoticons within sentences. I'm no effin' MLA style writing handbook, but that sh*t doesn't fly with me. But, here's the part where I have to give b a break. I DIDN'T KNOW YOU COULDN'T WAX A KID'S EYEBROWS. I mean, I don't think it sounds like a GOOD idea, but it doesn't really seem like a BAD, bad idea. Then again, I know that on the terrible human scale, I am a strong 8.5 out of ten. I am not delusional.

It seems like it's a little Toddlers and Tiaras to literally wax of a toddler's body hair, but it doesn't seem like the worst thing a person could do. I mean, have you seen some unibrows? They can be quite tragic. I've seen a perfectly beautiful man completely leveled to a below average type deal by some effed up eyebrows.

Wearing a fur hat over your fur brows isn't helping, Noel Gallagher.
See what I mean? Tragic. While it's probably best that you wait until a kid is a teenager, or something, to start ripping hairs from their bodies, let's cut this girl some slack. We wouldn't want to make her cry. Will you look at that cry face? Let's avoid that whole thing.

via realitytvgifs
I don't blame you, HBB. This ish is rough.

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Thursday, September 20, 2012

The Horrible Pitfalls of Coming of Age in the 90's

I turned 18 in the year of 1999, or the year of the partying Prince (or Prince symbol thing at the time) song. I feel like no matter what decade you are a teenager, there is always some super embarrassing/hazardous pictures of your horrid-ness floating around. But because I was a young whippersnapper in the 90's, I had to suffer through a sh*tload of grossness that I did to myself, and now think WTF kind of effery did I do to myself???

#1 Tramp Stamps -- Let's just go ahead and get the worst, most permanent thing out of the way. Not a lot of people (even close friends) know this about me, but I'm putting this mess all on front street for the enjoyment of strangers. Yikes. On my 18th birthday, I got a tramp stamp. And it's a butterfly. ( I EFFING KNOW, YOU GUYS.)
My underwear indentations aren't exactly helping the sitch, either. In my defense, there was no such thing as a tramp stamp in 1999. But children of the world, please take this into consideration. Don't get a tattoo on yo' damn 18th birthday, like a dummy. A butterfly is not cute over a 30 something's ass crack. Mmmmkay?

#2 Horrible Lifelong Photos of Memorable Occasions -- I also had a pretty horrible prom dress, you guys. Crushed velvet leopard print?
Don't forge to rest your eyes on those luxurious, mile-long acrylic nails while you're at it. Not pictured -- a chunky-heeled, strappy, GLITTERED black dress sandal. Hang it up, style queens. You've got nothing on this hotness.

#4 Pubescent Before Flat Irons -- Imagine growing up in the Florida humidity without the invention of flat irons. They didn't come out until I was in friggin' college. AND I had bangs for a large portion of my life.
I look like damn Doris Day or some crap. And let's not even bring up my Donna Martin-esque outfit. I don't even know if I owned a hair dryer at this point in my life. And that's also about the last time I saw my natural hair color.

#5 The "Platinum Playboy" Look Was Cool (to Me) -- I had (white) platinum blonde hair, a dangle belly button ring, and acrylic french manicured nails.
Oh, and a ridiculous amount of crop tops. That's a lot time investment in ab work, people. Probably using an ab roller. And a thigh master worked in, somehow.

What kind of grossness did you guys go through when you were in your teen years? Please tell me it wasn't as horrible as my ish. Impossible.

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