APRIL FOOLS! But here is a video about why I could never handle doing that.
It is not often that I cross the threshold of beauty salons, let alone get excited about being forced to have my hair and make up done for an event. This past weekend I stood in a wedding. For the most part, it was eerily calm, the bride was happy, and no one’s dress miraculously didn’t fit. However, there was one part of the day’s events that is still haunting me.
Have you ever heard of the art of airbrushing? Let me jog your memory.
You remember this classy form of painting now, right? The creations are limitless and the colors really pop in ways that even artists like Georgia O’keeffe just couldn’t quit grasp. Now, take this airbrushing concept and think about what it would be like if you could apply it to your face.
I am not teasing you, it can be done. I experienced it first hand.
You are probably scrambling to Google “airbrush make-up artists near me, ” but please continue to read before you book an appointment. This once in a lifetime opportunity to have your make-up painted on like a cheap, middle of the mall t-shirt is something for which you should really mentally prepare. I can tell you what to expect.
1. The artist who is going to be painting your eager canvass is going to be way prettier than you. Mostly because her make-up will be flawless, but she doesn’t “practice airbrushing on herself,” and she’s telling the truth. It’s just a thing artists do, it doesn’t say anything about the art form’s quality. No, not at all.
2. Unless you have frequently had your head sprayed with a fire extinguisher, prepare to slightly piss your pants when she applies her obnoxious tool to your face. It will happen more than once.
3. The artist will likely compliment your perfect eyebrows and then immediately proceed to “enhance” them for about ten minutes with what I deferred to be a Sharpie pen.
4. Airbrush make-up is literally a breathtaking art form, mostly when you forget to close your mouth and hold your breath during the application of Pumpkin Rot No. 3 to your “voluptuous” cheek bones.
5. Most artists like to save their work for a big reveal once they are completely finished, you know, as opposed to letting you see what they are doing until it’s too late to punt the airbrush gun and make a run for it.
In the end, you will most likely look similar to this:
Obviously, you know what needs to be done. Go dig up that old airbrush t-shirt with Tweety Bird on it and go get your face dyed like an Easter Egg. Until next time Flysters, I will be exfoliating my face with Comet.
It has been quite a while since I have shared any conversations with my geriatric boyfriend Mr. OB. Since I can now type again, I can’t think of a better way to get back into the swing of posting than to give you some more disturbing pictures of his character. If you don’t know who Mr. OB is (short for Mr. Outback), I’ll tell you now, you won’t ever get an accurate bio of him. Here or anywhere for that matter. But you can infer what you will about him from my series of stories here and by reading the rest of this post.
Look closely, this is the most you will ever see of Mr. OB
I had the pleasure of another long overdue dinner and visitation with Mr. OB a few nights ago. It is yet to be determined if he was or was not stoned. Not that that serves as a logical reason that the following conversation occurred, but he seemed bit… paranoid.
We said our hellos first:
Mr. OB: “What’s wrong with you?”
Mr. OB: “Oh, you look funny”
Me: Well my arm was swallowed by a first aid kit, but other than that…
On topics of medical experiences, needles, and the like.
Me: “Wait, so you think if you put a needle in your leg that you will accidentally pull back on the syringe and suck out your insides?”
Mr. OB: “Well yeah, I don’t know what is in there!”
Me: “You mean, in your body?”
Mr. OB: “Yeah! And I don’t want to know.”
Me: “You know, I don’t think needles work like plungers and turkey basters. Wait, why are you stabbing yourself with needles in the first place?”
Mr. OB: Mumbles something about bees and tractors running into trees
Mr. OB: “When that thing comes on at Outback, I am ducking behind the register. The blade is coming out of that thing and it’s flying across the bar and straight into my neck.” making dramatic throat slicing motion
Me: “Because that blender blade has had it out for you since it found out you only drink wine, right?”
Mr. OB: “I’ve seen it happen.”
Me: Well I am sure a lot of people “see” things that would never happen. Ever heard of intrusive thoughts? Hallucinations? Paranoia?
Mr. OB: “You just wait. I’m telling you. It’s gonna happen. I just hope it won’t be me. But it will probably be me.”
Me: to the bartender “Can I get a frozen margarita? Well blended please?”
Check out my latest vlog in the sidebar on the most obvious topic of all. The internet. ———————————————————————————->
I’m the type of person who has absolutely no problem dining alone, and in fact, I rather enjoy it. It’s like meditation in the form of stuffing your face. No one is there to judge you for ordering that entree sized appetizer and an actual entree. You don’t have to worry about taking a bite right at the very moment that your dining mate asks you a pressing question, resulting in a very long awkward pause while you try to chew at choking hazard speed to free your tongue for speaking, thus ruining the bite altogether. And you also don’t have to play checkbook table hockey to decide who is going to pick up the tab.
Dining alone is sublime if you ask me, but along with everything else in the world, there are a few downsides. Let me fill you in.
1. People will feel sorry for you. Especially and extremely so if you are over fifty. I don’t know why, but when I see an older man or woman dining alone I want to slit my wrists.
2. Your waiter will unintentionally make you feel inadequate by slowly taking away all of the other silverware on the table and saying something like, “Is it just you tonight?”
3. Remember those people who are feeling sorry for you? You will eventually succumb to their stares and whip out your smart phone to pretend you are handling important business emails, when you are really seeing how bad you look with a double chin on Fat Booth before you order that appetizer disguised as an entree.
4. At this point, your waiter has now joined in on the pity party for you, so you will have to deal with taking a bite right at the very moment that he asks you a pressing question about your refill, resulting in a very long awkward pause while you try to chew at choking hazard speed to free your tongue for speaking, thus ruining the bite altogether.
5. You have to pay. Unless the entire staring restaurant forms a sympathy pool to pay for your pathetic dinner.
So let me fix my first paragraph about dining alone: No one is there to judge you for ordering that entree sized appetizer and an actual entree … except yourself. You don’t have to worry about taking a bite right at the very moment that your dining mate asks you a pressing question, resulting in a long awkward pause while you try to chew at choking hazard speed to free your tongue for speaking, thus ruining the bite altogether… but your waiter will have the same bad timing. And you also don’t have to play checkbook table hockey to decide who is going to pick up the tab… but there is absolutely no chance you are getting a free meal.
So I meant it when I said that I enjoy dining alone. I enjoy dining alone in my living room while watching old episodes of The Office and secretly pining over Dwight. Don’t judge me.
Dining alone while reading this?! Let me give you more stuff to do on your smart phone so you don’t look so bored. Check out Not A Redhead on YouTube here.
I’ve almost been blogging for two years now, and as the New Year approaches swiftly I find myself in reflection. When I began blogging, I had no idea that a widget wasn’t a term coined for a midget whale. I certainly didn’t know a thing about YouTube, Twitter, or domain mapping.
When I began this blog I planned to write about travel, inspiration, blah blah blah. It quickly turned into a humorous space, which is true to the behavior of a Becca in the wild. Then I got my hands on a real internet connection and a new webcam and it was all over. BeccaTube was born, and many sleepless nights I geeked out splicing videos like I was splitting atoms in a lab.
Where I have come with my blog, my video, my projects, my relationships, it has all been a wonderful experience that was squished into two short years. I still feel like I am barely 23 years old, discovering the outlet of blogging every time I log on, all the while knowing my blogging brain is pushing thirty.
And for this reason, I am saying goodbye to 25toFly. Read the rest of this entry