Finger Paints – Laugh my Art Off
Filed Under Nail Polish Pretties | 2 Comments
So, since I like to pretend that this is a nail-polish/make-up bloggy-poo (I can’t not call it that… believe me, I try), I figured I might as well, you know, do that. Sometimes, we stress-shop to avoid stress-eating, and new nail polish just appears in (and on) our hands. And sometimes it’s blue.
This is Laugh My Art Off by Finger Paints. Read more
“Arrrgh”, “WTF” and other inspired words from Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides.
Filed Under Netflix, o how you (f)ail me. | 4 Comments
Finally saw it. Had some thoughts (and by that I mean a whole lot of snark and ‘WTF’ going on). But, before I get in to my 7 1/2 page (you’ve been warned) review of the fourth installment of the Pirates of the Caribbean series, On Stranger Tides, I’d like to take a moment to define a very important rhetorical device: ‘hand-waving’. From Wikipedia:
“Handwaving is used in speculative fiction criticism to refer to a plot device (e.g. a scientific discovery, a political development, or rules governing the behavior of a fictional creature) that is left unexplained or sloppily explained because it is convenient to the story, with the implication that the writer is aware of the logical weakness but hopes the reader will not notice or will suspend disbelief…”
Keep that in mind. All right. Here we go. Read more
Essence – Where is the Party
Filed Under Nail Polish Pretties | 2 Comments
I’m going to pretend that wearing a lot of nail polish means I know how to blog about a lot of nail polish. I’d like you all to pretend with me: it’s good fun.
So, naturally, for a first attempt at this, I pick a duochrome (i.e. a color that is a frustrating blend of “OH EM GEE THIS IS MAGIC” and “WHY DOESN’T MY CAMERA LIKE MAGIC”)
Here, have a picture of ‘Where is the Party’ by Essence:
See what they did with the ‘e’ there? WHY CAN’T I BE THIS BASALLY CLEVER.
I wish I had something new to say other than it looks like an oil slick. Of course it does. Anybody who’s seen the aftermath of rain at least once in their lives knows that. I wish I could say something urbane like, “Yes, it does look like an oil slick, but more than that it strongly reminds of late 17th century West European expressionism. The colors!”, and all you dapper readers would be like, “Mmm. Quite.” (And speaking of oil slicks and urbane, Urban (close enough) Decay’s De-Slick setting spray (I’ve forgotten the official 20-word title for it, sue me) is on my make-up wish list for no other reason than it has a pretty rainbow oil-slick on it. How easily I’m won over).
ANYWAYS, it’s an awesome possum. In addition to the loveliness of the bottle (they spelled color with a ‘u’! I feel like I’ve fallen into Narnia!), I really enjoy Essence nail polishes.
- They are a cheaper form of entertainment than gas. Seriously, 1 gallon = 4 of these lovelies.
- The broad/wide brush works well for my gigantor man-hands
- Travel-size. Though, I don’t really travel outside my 15 mile radius of home-work-school, so I guess it’s a selling point in theory.
Here’s some more pictures before you lose interest:
Yes, these are color-accurate photos and that is the same nail polish (not that that’s too hard to believe. It’s not like I’m trying to sell you on something you didn’t think existed). It’s like having a reversible tie (with fundamentally minor differences).
Here’s an attempt at the shift:
If I trick you into thinking it, the power of suggestion will let you see the slight purply-ness on the sides. It’s much more impressive in real-life (that’s what… he? she?… someone said).
It’s a night of firsts: in addition to it being my first nail-polish swatch, this is also my first duochrome polish. AND NOW I HUNGER FOR MORE. Unfortunately, my Ulta only has an end-cap of Essence with a limited selection. I understand that Essence has a number of new duochromes out, but this seemed to be the only one that my store had.
So… that sounds like a good enough reason for a sabbatical to Europe to me.
One last note: If you ask ‘Where is the Party’ instead of slurring “WHEREZAPAHTY?”, they (whomever it happens to be with the red plastic cup in hand) are not going to tell you.
“This is the tale of Captain Jack Sparrow” – Michael Bolton
Filed Under Netflix, o how you (f)ail me. | Leave a Comment
In light of the FOURTH Pirates of the Caribbean movie opening this past weekend, I bestow this gift upon you all: my take on PoTC #3 through the lenses of authorial intent and OMGWTF R U SERIOUS.
First, read this, and then come back to see how this is the entirety of the movie.
So, I go through my fanfiction phases (reading, not writing (LAWL I’M NOT THAT PATHETIC (I am))) just the same as all the good fangirls and boys out there because, truly, the well-written pieces can make the worst of franchises (PoTC, cough cough) into something enjoyable. I mean, isn’t that half the reason you go and see the movies, so you can project your own non-canon fantasies onto the screen (I’m looking at you, slash-writers)?! And with PoTC, there’s so much sexual tension in every goddamn scene, you could make a half-way decent ship for Monkey Jack and the parrot. So OF COURSE I’m like wooosh pirates and eyeliner and Johnny Depp = hard on. You would be (or possibly were), too.
So then, I’m reading all these one-shots that are alluding to things that happened in the second and third movie that I didn’t remember at all. Just so I could keep up (yeah, like that was the *only* reason), I took it upon myself to watch the movies again. DEAR LORD. I saw them both in theaters when they came out. The second one, I could just BARELY understand, and then the third one, I flat-out refused to try and make sense of it an hour in (that might be giving it too much credit, more like twenty minutes probably). The third one… good lord, the third one…
We’ll start at the beginning…
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This shouldn’t be my introduction…
Filed Under Overwrought and overwritten | Leave a Comment
Lovely people,
As Ernest Hemingway so appetizingly put it: “Write Drunk. Edit Sober”1.
The sweetest music I ever beheld, along with the sweetest of (two) margaritas. May too these drunken ramblings be to you the sweet sweet starlight upon which dreams run.
My life is a veritable smorgasbord of color and entertainment. That you didn’t already know this is forgivable. That you decide to walk away (or click away, as the case may be) from me, despite me being one of Oprah’s favorite things, is less so.
Besides, this blog was demanded (read: one person agreeing that I should make a blog just to steer the conversation back to the original topic and away from my narcissistic interruptions constitutes demand). Doesn’t that word just give you chills, it’s so intense? When was the last time something was demanded? Justice? Like that’s ever worked out.
And, I’m a writer2. Blogs and writers. That’s rich! This is the point where I quote Sleepless in Seattle and say, “[We] were MFEO”3.
Aside from writing to the trope of arrogant protagonist (or villain, whichever is more fun for you) in the guise of grand language, there is a smattering of subjects I may write on:
- Lists (OCDs, come to me). Excuse the meta. Also (parenthetical asides are the star players in my writing (in case you don’t pick up on the glaringly obvious)).
- Make-up and nail polish (OH, GOD YOU WEREN’T EXPECTING THAT WERE YOU) are the stupid things I spend my fun-money on. Half (possibly all) the fun of buying shit is telling people about the shit you buy.
- Addendum to prove how right I am: watch this, take note of the view count, and then dare to tell me that it’s not true.
- Somebody did something stupid and renewed her (I mean somebody’s) Netflix subscription. This brings to mind a trivia team-name to summarize the situation perfectly: “I don’t like cocaine, I just like the smell of it.”
- Ke$ha.
Well. That wraps things up nicely4.
–Rachel
- Don’t trust writers who quote Hemingway in the first sentence.
- Actually, the list of professions with which I can measure my identity against, writer appears in air-quotes.
- If you haven’t seen the movie//can’t figure that out, you don’t deserve to know.
- It doesn’t.
