I could be on an episode of "True Life: I Love Black EVERYTHING." Because my heart and soul are black as eff, and you know this, and I tend to think the darker the better (in all scenarios). So much so that my husband and I were watching some show on Discovery ID, like every second of every day in my life, and it was about some goth kids murdering someone. He was like, "I can't believe you weren't a goth." And I said, "It's too much work and feelings. Otherwise, I would have been." The point of that pretty pointless story is that I like black shit. A lot.
BUT THIS HALLOWEEN-Y "BLACK WHOPPER" LOOKS MF-ING GROSS. Why do I want to eat a black bun? How does that even make this a Halloween hamburger? Nary a candy corn or a snaggle-toothed pumpkin in sight.
How boring.
And ordinary.
And not even really trying.
Just pour some liquid smoke in a box and tell me it's a "Ghost Whopper." I'll respect that more.
Whoever created this photo deserves at least one of Nancy Kerrigan's medals. (Too soon?)
Here's a true fact for your ass: I'm a low-key stan for Tonya Harding. Her story is just so crazy over-the-top that you can't help but semi-fall in love with her. She has some kind of Amy Fisher/Pamela Smart xtra-lite appeal to her that I can't explain with actual words that make sense. But just know that she lives in my heart.
My favorite thing about T Hard is her whole vibe and style. This is a woman with beauty MOMENTS. Here are my favorite times.
When She Had Those Bangs.
If you never had bangs that looked like fledgling sparrows were nesting in them, your ass didn't have BANGS. Pair them with white eyeshadow and you've got yourself a solid, solid look.
And That Scrunchie.
Tonya was like the kaweeen of scrunchies. Her (imagined) hair routine was like: blow dry with one of those tiny Conair dryers that get up to 989852093845 degrees while brushing through your perm, do bangs, slick back into tight ponytail with a handful of LA Looks gel, tie hair back with a giant (preferably velvet) scrunchie, and call that shit a day. Flawless.
And Also That Scrunchie. (With an Assist From That Blush.)
I told you -- queen of scrunchies.
AND THIS EXTREMELY EARLY FRENCH BRAID THAT'S SO EARLY, IT STARTED BEFORE THE CIVIL WAR BEGAN.
Signs that you aren't effing around with your French braid: it starts at your eyebrows.
And This One Eyebrow.
Speaking of brows, this is a natural one. Hey dude, it's been a minute since I've seen one of you.
And This Eyeliner.
The Hard learned she was a "Spring" skin tone and went to MF-ing town with that blue eyeliner. Went to all the towns. She was so pleased, that she let Nancy borrow one of the royal scrunchies.
AND LITERALLY EVERY SINGLE THING ABOUT THIS KODAK MOMENT.
I dare you to find one single thing that isn't perfect about this. I DARE YOU. This should hang in the Louvre.
Life ain't all sunshine and unicorn manes, especially when it comes to how you feel about yourself. Here's a (kind of) Tipsy Talk (the first!) about how to deal with an ugly day.
Is this your favorite use of green screen in the history of technology? Why am I even asking, of course it is. Stick it up your ass, Great Gatsby (the movie), there's a new green screen cowboy in green screen town.
This is TV John, and he's your new boyfriend. He also needs someone to turn his vocals way up. And because you are now borderline obsessed with TV John and TV John's life, here is TV John's cable access TV show. Thank you for existing, Reddit, just for finding rare and majestic gems like TV John.
What do you think TV John is doing right now? Maybe he's shopping on Amazon Prime for tube socks.
I don't even really HATE hate the song -- I can deal-ish with it. What I can't handle is the actual visuals of the video, where Destiny Hope Cyrus dumps a bunch of different shit all over her face and then spits it out. Sometimes it's in slo-mo, sometimes it reversed, but it's gross all the ways.
I don't want to see your tonsils, homie. With or without milk coating them.
And is glitter even safe to have all up in your mouth like that? I can't think about it anymore. I'm getting nauseated and I need a major palate cleanser.
Okay, that should be sufficient. Sweet dreams.
Pin It
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."
Me:
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-dielove 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.
I will not be completely hyperbolic and proclaim that I've seen "every episode of Maury." In fact, I haven't watched it in, like, three years. Okay, two. But, I have experienced a SHIT-TON of MP in my day. The photo above is from my own phone. I have receipts.
I think we all can agree that Maury is batshit insane. Like, if your Tinder/Grindr/Ashley Madison date was like, "You know what I'm really passionate about? Maury Povich," you'd probably promptly finish your non-virgin Shirley Temple with 17 extra cherries and jump out the bathroom window, regardless of safety. (Or maybe just marry them.) But when we keep it real in the diary of our minds, you know that show is entertaining. Open your heart to it, Madonna. It just is.
So I decided to compile so my favorite Maury moments. The times that were so completely ridiculous that you actually wished you were there, so your face could look like this:
We'll start with one of my favorite life moments. I want this to be on my gravestone. Mark my words.
1. When this lady had a cotton ball phobia, but mostly THE COTTON BALL MAN.
Every time I watch this I laugh my b-hole off. I'm sorry that homegirl hates cotton balls and it's ruining her life, or whatever, BUT THIS IS WHY TELEVISION WAS CREATED. For a grown man to go to work and wear a low-rent cotton ball suit and scare mofos. Y'all accepting applications or nah, Maury?
2. When this girl's sister banged dudes for cheeseburgers.
This is actually really sad and terrible. But I had to include it, because I think about it EVERY SINGLE DAY. The "out of control teen" came out all defiant and was like, "So what? Cheeseburgers taste good." I hope I never forget it.
3. When this lady found a tooth in her bed and she wasn't missing any fresh teeth. (I don't know her complete dental history.)
Whose tooth just pops off and doesn't notice? Were they eating gummy worms and that bitch just fell out? Was it Sonja Morgan? What is happening?
4. Whenever a sexy decoy is involved.
I LOVE SEXY DECOYS. So much so that I might marry them all.
Here's a quick primer on life, dudes: If there's a highly attractive woman in the Maury greenroom, don't make-out, et al with said lady. Especially if you came to the show because someone wants to know, "Did you cheat and get two women pregnant?" Sexy decoys by nature are both sexy and decoys. They don't actually want to see your ween.
5. When this woman found the entire Home Depot ladder aisle stashed backstage and used it to her stunt queen advantage.
And, really, I give her a lot of well-deserved propers, because that is some innovative and dramatic maneuvering.
6. When dudes do "Not the Father" celebratory dances.
And almost all of the world rejoices for some reason. Except for the 5000% girl. She was sad as F.
And I do mean almost everyone -- even the Tupac hologram.
Oh, Maury, never change. You are our beacon of light (and holograms) in this dark, dark world. And here's a pro tip: if you find a tooth in your bed, change the damn sheets, Arica.
