hollow, tip, bullets

i would like to talk about beauty products. not for any real reason, except that they are things that i sometimes enjoy talking about. my mother never really gave me any beauty tips, and i don't have any sisters, so i kind of had to figure everything out on my own, which is a semi-long process of trial and error. Now that i am approaching 30, i finally have a few little winners that i like to use and since i know the pain of being clueless i am somewhat compelled to share my little nuggets of wisdom with "you".

-the inspiration for this post is ion straightening conditioner. my roommate has a big party pump of the stuff in her little shower cubby and about a week ago i got curious and tried it out. it's pretty much amazing. i have fine hair that is not stick straight, so i get really terrible fly aways, always have. this conditioner is the first product that ever successfully decreased the entropy around my head. I don't particularly care for the smell of it, but other than that this has been a great discovery. anything that makes my hair look this smooth and shiny, even the first day that it has been washed, is a keeper.

-savon de marseille soaps. they look outstanding. these bar soaps are bulky handmade cubed deformities with this masculine utilitarian typeset pressed into it. language: french. units:metric (i love the metric system). at about $14 a bar, it is a bit pricey, but 600 grams is a lot of soap and it's worth it. the first time that i bought this stuff, i opted for the unscented oilve oil soap. i was in love. the silliage (slipperiness?) is remarkable. it is very heavy and slippery and it doesn't make much foam, but after a good scrubbing with a washcloth, it leaves you skin very clean, soft, and hydrated. I recently went against my typical purchase and picked up a rose scented one that is very nice, albeit quite girlie. i only hope that the rose smell doesn't stick to my skin too much and/or make my perfume smell funky.

- shikai dry hand therapy. just buy it and thank me.

-pond's cold cream. yeah, i know, your grandmother uses it. well, who knows more about fine lines and wrinkles than your grandma? it's is an outstanding makeup remover, it's great to put on and leave on after shaving, and it makes you glow after you wipe it off of your face. i don't know what i ever did without it.

- extra virgin olive oil. i put in a drop of lavender oil and use it as a moisturizer in the mornings. it is anti-intuitive, but it's actually really great for pimples. i don't know if it's because you are creating a protective mask by filling your pores with clean oil before dirt, bacteria, and grubby oil can get in there, or what, but since i started using it my pimple frequency has dropped way down. it is becoming clear to me that i like greasy, products...

-wash cloths. fuck shower poufs. bacteria playgrounds. they take forever to dry out and they are scratchy. sure, they make more lather, but lather is only for show, people. it doesn't mean anything unless it's for shaving (in which case you want it thick, not bubbly). wash clothes dry out between uses and they gently scub your skin clean while exfoliating. so superior.

WHAT MUST THAT FEEL LIKE?!?

"...Sponges are aquatic animals, and the sponge species that Wilson worked with was compromised of just two basic types of cells. When Wilson treated adult sponges with chemicals that made the cells dissociate from each other, the result was a jumbled mass of individual and unconnected cells. But when normal chemical conditions were restored, the cells gradually began to move and stick to other cells. With time, cells of each type began to aggregate and adhere to cells of the same tissue type. This phenomenon came to be called selective adhesion. In Wilson's experiment, the cells eventually re-formed complete and functional adult sponges."

on expectations

maybe there's a creative class brewing that would be able to support (barely) dudes in bands for the rest of their lives. if hipsters never choose to grow up and end up becoming career wait staff and/or career fairly unheard of artists or musicians, but the waiters keep going to the shows and the artists keep going to the bars, then they could become a self-sustaining economy that could keep going indefinitely. people could live like that for the rest of their lives, barely scraping the bottom, but keeping themselves reasonably comfortable, and still enjoying their lives. never giving in to convention, never taking that fear-of-never-having-nice-things driven retreat into the utterly disappointing compromise for comfort that is middle-class zombieism. comfort is the enemy.

mac'n'cheese'n'wet panties

yesterday my roommate and i were perusing the cornucopia of entertainment that is internet television and we stumbled upon that show kath & kim, which we both agreed was worthy of our do-nothing afternoon. we proceeded to watched 5 episodes, all that we had access to, in one sitting. if you've seen the show, and hopefully you have, because i'd wager to say it's better than most, the kim character is always shoveling garbage food down her throat. i believe i was about 3 or 4 episodes deep when i saw kim attacking a bowl of kraft mac'n'cheese and the "fuck yeah, that's what i'm having for dinner!" bell went off in my head (nice product placement kraft mac'n'cheese, well played. you got me). i try to stay away from trashy foods if i can, you'd be hard pressed to find me in a mcdonalds or a taco bell, but i do let myself indulge occasionally. so, as i began boring my roommate with my culinary intentions, we started talking about how kraft mac'n'cheese usually needs to be served with something else to cut the megacheese flavor. growing up my mother always served it with dinner sausages, the roommate's preference was the mildly more plebeian canned weenies. then i mentioned that, when sausages aren't available, i sometimes like to take it real trashy and put ketchup and sriracha sauce in there... hey, at least it's not ranch dressing or anything. at any rate, i later wandered over to the grocery store to pick up one of those oh-so-familiar blue boxes- yeah i even skipped the healthier option of Annie's Organic instant mac'n'cheese. i wanted the real deal, mother fucker- and as i half heartedly wandered the isles trying to think of anything else that i might need, inspiration hit me in the canned vegetable isle. Inspiration, thyne name is "diced tomatoes with green chili peppers". ok, if you're ever in the mood for some cheap, easy, trashy comfort food, be it due to dubious advertising techniques or not, i suggest you try this, because it is basically now my favorite thing to eat ever. make the damn mac'n'cheese as usual (although i used 1/8 cup heavy whipping cream and 1/8 cup water instead of 1/4 cup milk, just cause it's all i had available) then after it's all cooked and mixed together dump in 1/2 a can of inspiration. stir and then eat... and then ejaculate all over yourself. i would also suggest adding any leftover meat that you might have around. i had a small piece of steak from the night before that i cut into little steak bites and they were pretty awesoooooome. i imagine that sausage or canned weenies would be good too. so there. there's a tip from me, the future fatty and ghetto gourmet. bon appetite!

The Rebirth of Fool

Here I go again on my own! I was talking today with some friends about "internet classics" because one friend sent out a group email that was all "check out this 'Yacht Rock' series!" Yacht Rock in 2008? Damn girl. Have you seen the Star Wars Kid? Anyway, this led me to thinking about the internet back around 2005 and it dawned on me that I used write this here blog. So I hunted myself down, which is, admittedly creepy. And, man, 2006 got DARK. Who took my sunshine away? hm? Really, I want to know who it was... I'm taking names. I will get you and make you PAY.

Ok

So there have been other blogs since this one, because I am a filthy whore and my dark heart will never understand the concept of "commitment", but reading back I kind of like this one the best. In this instance, the first cut is, in fact, the deepest. So, I'm sorry jellyfish blog, I never meant to hurt you. Please take me back baby. I'll do anything. I looove you, blog. I do. Ah, yeah, I feel a bit rusty and maybe a bit old and worn down, the years of drinking and supplementing drinking have dulled my little brain I'm afraid. I don't know if I can come up with crazy pseudo science posts anymore, but maybe with some practice I can come up with something. I do recall hearing briefly about inanimate forms having memory. Apparently, after being damaged, something inside of them yearns to go back to their original form, so when they're damaged a second time, they tend to try absorb the energy in a way that will make them as they once were. BUT, this is all very vague, and I can't remember what the term for this phenomena is, and I really need to read more about it before I can talk about it in any serious way. But Think of the implications this has on the whole concept of memory or cognisance. How can a nonliving thing remember? That shit's CRAZY! Also, when you think about it, matter is just energy and energy can't be created or destroyed, so, at what point does a form decide that this is the one that it associates itself with? Why is the birth of a tin can acceptable, but the birth of a dented tin can not just as valid? How much does a unit of matter have to change before it just shakes up the etch-a-sketch and starts over as something else? I guess it's like the difference between puberty and death. And I wonder if you asked 100 dead people which was worse, how many would answer "puberty".

dear betty ford,

workohol. man. i wish i was a workoholic. wouldn't it be great to be helplessly devoted to something that benefits your life in some way? if you're the type of person who is going to end up helplessly devoted to something anyway, it might as well be something beneficial instead of, say, something destructive and embarrassing, or expensive and dumbening, right? i would love to have an insatiable desire to get up in the morning and put everything i have into some task and have that task then go on and reap me rewards such as comfort, pride, security, mobility, positive experience, shiny objects, or untattered clothing. imagine it. instead of working to feed a habit, making a habit of work. it's too bad habits are almost impossible to change once you have one. i guess i wasn't one of the lucky habit folks, now i'm stuck with what i have: a lot of moments i can't remember, a lot of moments i want to forget, chipped teeth, bruised legs, dead eyes, dull hair, a meager bank account, a shitty dangerous neighborhood, worn out everything, crazy friends and a bum for a man. i'd be better off if i were dropped into the wilderness alone where i would be removed from all distractions and forced to make survival my habit. an affirmatively habitual lifestyle might be easy to convert to when it's necessary for survival and, as i imagine it is, survival is so precarious. comfort is my enemy.

"wanting money for the sake of buying stuff is greed. wanting money for the sake of obtaining nice things is lust." that's the brilliant thought that made me feel the need to post in this stupid blog again. like that little nugget of genius simply had to be shared with the world. the reason posterity exists. yeah, more like toss it into a tiny bottle and drop it into the ocean. there's no way anyone reads this. how? why? not possible. anywhooo.

here i am. back in town. typing out my crazy like "yaw yaw how you be?". so i'm here and i shared my glorious ben franklinism with you. what next? i could go anywhere with this since i'm telling my secret to a hole in a tree anyway. like:

god. i think i'm turning into one of those girls who has a constant need to be physically comfortable. i think this marks a mental breakdown of some sort. as though internal and/or external life have just become too much to bear and i need to create for myself some sort of tangible joy through physical comfort. i believe this is a common occurrence in america. i can back up this belief by the overwhelming popularity of the sweatpant paired with the overwhelming obesity of this country. they ain't getting bought for the gym, folks.
or like:

man. i just watched fata morgana. how great is that super uplifting popol vuh song? how can you hear that song and not instantly picture self driving around in a van topless at dawn somewhere in the middle of nowhere in august-- smoking a joint and hanging out with some relatively new-yet-awesome friends. great song.
or how about:

willie nelson. what fucking song is he hearing? i dare anyone to sing anything like him. i love him.
yeah dude. so much to talk about. actually, after looking back at my examples... exponentially less to talk about, ha cha cha cha. seriously though, i'm afraid i'm going to keep babbling on about music because my ipod in on in the background and it could potentially dominate my thought process. innane music crap is what the other blog is for. this one is for inane crazy rant. i should just turn off the ipod, however the silence could very well induce writer's block, and then i might as well watch tv or go to bed or something. this is truth. maybe i shouldn't have the red headed stranger on specifically. i can't talk about willie nelson all night, but this shit is hard to ignore. i should have on some boring ass bloc party or something, elevator musak. of course, bloc party might aggravate me and then i'd start ranting about how much i don't like it. maybe i should have on something more like the mountain goats, but turned down so low that i can't hear the lyrics. then it would be familiar and likeable, but completely uninteresting.
oh shit! look i'm doing it already. snooooooze. (one more thing: black sabbath- ridiculous drum solos. ridiculous.)


ok ok. that's enough for tonight. lates bitches.