Monday, November 29, 2010

Eyelashes...the Ugly Truth

Eyelashes…the long, luxurious ones for which women all over the world yearn, are not all they’re cracked up to be. The truth of the matter is that they can be a real pain in the patootie.

Unlike my husband and daughter who won the genetic eyelash lottery, I was handed inferior ones…pale, short, sparse. Mascara is one of my closest friends.

Now, imagine my delight when my eye doctor explained that one of the side effects of my prescription eye drops would be increased eyelash growth.  Sweet!

My brother-in-law, who incidentally is my age and who also has to employ these drops, warned me of “crazy eyelashes”. I ignored him…what do guys know about the joys of dreamy lashes?

I should have listened.

Are they thicker? Yessiree!
Longer?  Whoa, Nellie!

I know what you’re thinking.
You want to smack me.

Well, the first issue is that they truly are crazy. They come in at all angles, occasionally cris-crossing; so they still need to be whipped into submission with mascara.

The next issue is the fact that I can actually see my lashes without looking into the mirror. At all times, their faint featheriness (apparently, that's not a real word) frames my line of vision.

The final, and most irritating, side effect is that they are little Venus Flytraps…something is always getting caught in them…lint, hair, leaves, small birds.  I am constantly picking schtuff out of them!

I find it interesting that neither my husband nor my daughter have ever complained about this issue. Could it be that because they’ve always had to deal with the trinkets their eyelashes trap for them, it has become commonplace, and they have no idea that the eyelash-challenged people of the world have no knowledge of this type of suffering?

I do have to admit, though…

I still kinda love the lashes!

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

An Ugg Moment

All day, every day I witness heinous fashion decisions and almost all of them involve Ugg boots. Now, before, anyone gets insulted, you should know that I have absolutely nothing against these fuzzy little accessories. The problem lies in the delivery.

Hour after hour, day after day, I witness bleached blonde, over-tanned sorority girls (no, I don't have anything against them either) traipsing past my door for their daily tanning bed fix. And, 90% of the time, regardless of season, their toasted tootsies are adorned with Uggs. Generally speaking, not a problem.

Now, call me old and out of touch if you will, but in my day sorority girls would only present themselves perfectly coiffed to the general public tastefully accessorized in the latest fashion trends. It was their job. Their social responsibility, for crying out loud!

HOWEVER, something has gone horribly awry.

In addition to rampant and intentional bed head, I've witnessed strange and confusing Ugg (both literally and figuratively) combinations. Apparently, it is now okay to wear whatever you grab first as long as you pair it with a pair of Uggs.

Gym shorts with Uggs...fabulous!
Sweatpants cut off above the knee w/ calf-high Uggs...beautiful!
Sundress with shin-length Uggs...perfection!

I wish I had a Polaroid.
I would snap a quick picture.
Hand it to the offender du jour, and
tell them to put it in a safe place for five years.

I guarantee that when looking at this picture five years from now, they will wonder...


Sunday, November 7, 2010

Disturbing Picture

I have to warn you. The following is a very disturbing photograph taken at our family Christmas gathering in 2002. I ran across it recently, and I was stunned by what a saw.

"But, Lisa", you say, "what's so upsetting about this picture?"  I know, I know, it's a lovely shot of our family enjoying each other as we always do. There are "the sisters", nieces and nephews, grandma in the background, and that gorgeous fluffy kitty cat I'm snuggling.

I emailed both of my sisters, attaching the picture and asking if they could tell me what was wrong with it. They both knew instantly. 

That sweet little kitty cat is the problem.

The very fact that I am brave enough to be holding her, on her back no less, and scritching her neck has to say something about my mental health. Either that or there was too much rum in the toddy.

The very fact that that kitty cat is ALLOWING me to do those evil things to her is astonishing, to say the least.

That kitty cat likes one person, and one person only. That person is my mother. In kitty cat's opinion, everyone else must die. She will even take pot shots at you while you are attempting to feed her.

That kitty cat's name is Reba.
Remember it and...
Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Thursday, November 4, 2010

PSA: How Not to Refer to Your Wife

I was told I needed to post again. I am busy, busy at the store so this will be a quickie.

It is inspired by one of my male customers who referred to the woman he has been married to for over 30 years as "The Wife". This is a pet peeve of mine. So here is the list of things not to call your wife:

1.  The Wife
2.  Woman
3.  The Old Lady
4.  The Ball and Chain
5.  The Witch (or any variation thereof)
6.  Baby Mama

I'm sure there are others, but you get the idea.  Just so you know, it is perfectly okay to say, "my wife". It is even better to say, "my lovely wife", "or my beautiful wife", or "the love of my life"...again, you get the idea. This is the woman who agreed to marry you. She is not a possession. She deserves to be referred to with respect.

If you say things like this in front of me, you can expect to get the Lisa Look.
This is not something you want.