Your Girlfriend is Ugly

Channeling my inner blond.

It's no secret. I sometimes wish I were blond. Don't get me wrong, I have gorgeous thick, healthy dark brown hair and impeccable bangs. And even though I have to get it colored every four weeks to hide my grays I am still thankful for my full head of hair. But sometimes I do wonder if blonds have more fun.

You all remember my blond wig. The one I bought for Halloween 2006 as part of my Mary-Kate Olsen: The Dumpster Years costume. Long after Halloween had some and gone I put the wig on and danced around my apartment with a bottle of CAB SAV and the New Radicals blaring.

Exhibit A:

And I thought I looked damn good.

Today I learned that the Mary Kay website has this TRY ON technology where you upload a picture of yourself and then do yourself "up" with the various hair and makeup looks provided by the website.

This is what I came up with:

Clearly this is my alter-ego Savannah Horowitz. She just got her hair blown out and her eyes done in preparation for her week in Boca Raton.

I could've done the hair dark brown, but I figured, let's mix it up!

I would still love to try being a blondie but I know that my hairs will never recover -yikes! Peroxide!- and I'll have to end up resurrecting that Mary-Kate Olsen wig.

Cool as a cucumber in a bowl of hot sauce.

Right, so a couple of days ago I blogged about the amazingness of creamy peanut butter- haters, creamy rules!- and at the end of said post I explained how I'm going to France next week and will not be able to dutifully attend to the fabulosity that is The YGIU so I offered my fellow bloggers and friends the opportunity to guest blog while I was away eating fromage and visiting glass factories.

People responded, naturally, and every day that I will be away there will be someone else's story to read. I'm not entirely technologically savvy. John Barleycorn yells at me all the time because I never check my Google reader and I had a melt down because I couldn't get my TV to turn on. I'm impatient and can barely charge my Blackberry. I mean, I'm lucky I'm still breathing.

When the four folks who responded to my blog saying that they would like to guest post, I simply handed over the username and password to my typepad account and said, "Here you go! Blog away on the designated day that we've already worked out."

Apparently this is not something people do. Apparently you can just invite people to guest post on your blog. This is something that I should have known since I am a contributer to Burt Reynold's Mustache - you won't see me on there yet. I had to take down my first post due to it's work related content, but check back on August 11th! - so I know that people get invited to blog on other blogs.

Is there a trade magazine I can subscribe to or a class I can take that will make me more in tune to these types of things?

Beauty Sample Bonanza (Don't try this at home).

In case anyone is interested in what I just did to occupy my time here's a play-by-play.

I have a low table that is parallel to my bed where all of my makeup and girly things such as perfumes, lotions, potions, creams, brushes, hair elastics and my iHome rest. The table has three drawers. Drawer 1 contains my check book, my remote controls, condoms, floss, a tube of Benzoyl Peroxide and anti-bacterial lotion. Drawer 2 has my second string makeup. This would include eye liners that are not black or brown, eye shadows that range in color from moss green to pacific ocean teal blue. In other words, any eye makeup that isn't Chanel. Also housed in drawer 2: various glittery body powders and about three hundred of the Stila smudge pots. Drawer 3 is my favorite drawer. It contains all of the things I replenish; cotton balls, Q-tips, my electric toothbrush heads. I enjoy refilling things. I like to open that drawer, take out a fresh sleeve of Rite-Aid brand oval round cotton pads and fill my cute Cameo cup with a fresh supply. I feel accomplished. (I suppose that my actual job should make me feel this way but times are tough.) Anyway, drawer 3 also contains various samples that I've accrued throughout my numerous shopping trips. I go to Sephora and get a bag of samples, I dump it in the drawer. I hit up Saks and the nice lady puts in a few To Go items, in #3 they go.

So tonight as I was rummaging in that particular drawer for a renegade travel size hair spray I needed when I happened across two bags of store samples that I realized I had never tapped into and a Zip-lock bag containing some forgotten lip glosses.

I poured out the C.O. Bigelow bag of samples first.

Immediately I honed in on the mini tube of Caudalie anti-wrinkle face cream. I'm paranoid about crow's feet and will slather anything on my face that promises to get rid of them. Forget the fact that I had just applied my toner and Dr. Hauschka Rose Day Cream, I emptied the mini tube and deposited the cream all over my face, paying extra attention to my orbital bone. As I write this blog I have to say I'm feeling tingly and a lot less wrinkly.

I looked down and saw a body cream I wanted to try. This would require an outfit change. I slipped out of my P.J. pants and into a pair of polka dotted booty shorts. Before I applied though I took out one of the lip glosses from the bag, Maybelline Shiny-licious in Strawberry, and smeared on the BRIGHT pink gloss over my lips.

As I reached for the body cream jar, I got side tracked by a sample of the Perricone Hand & Body Lipid Replenishment. Well, my hands were looking a little lipid-less. So, I ripped that baby open and with little fanfare squirted the cream onto my hands. Not a fan of the Perricone Lipid Replenishment. I smells like roots and looks something you see the doctors of Nip/Tuck sucking out of someone's ass. I had to get rid of the smell. It reminded me of camping and nature. My eyes darted around at the sea of samples surrounding me on my bed. There were so many I didn't know which one to get to first. Should I try the Thymes Fig Leaf & Cassis Body Lotion? Or the Awake Daily Call face cream? I was stressing myself out and not entirely sure why since I work in this industry and make a living going competitive shopping to see what these brands are doing. (Well granted I go to see what they are doing in packaging but still, the end result is a bag of samples.)

I decided to get back to the previously mentioned body cream. I unscrewed the cap and got my left leg good and lathered up with the Ellen Tracy Body Cream. OH WAIT! A sample of Jaqua Buttercream Frosting Luscious Lotion! I tore open the packet and slathered that on my right leg. Hmmm....this wasn't absorbing all that well. Actually is wasn't absorbing at all. It appeared that my body was rejecting smelling like a cupcake. I was rubbing my right leg so furiously that I didn't notice I was actually sliding down my bed and onto the floor.

The next thing I know I'm lying on my floor, on my back, with my right leg up in the air trying to distribute this cupcake smelling body lotion evenly. Whilst wearing polka dot sleep shorts. And the bright pink lip gloss.

**UPDATE**

This morning I tried an ultra-rich moisturizing face cream from L'Occitane and my face smells like a baby wipe. I'll be sitting at my desk and the overwhelming smell of baby wip pours over me like a waterfall. That's what I get for diving head first into trying new things.

The Hills: A recap

Yes, I watch The Hills on MTV. I DVR-ed it last night and my sister and I stayed up until 11:30 to tune in and see how LC and Co. are doing even though I read about them every single day in Life & Style, US Weekly and In Touch.

I watch The Hills even though I think Lauren is about as interesting as bio-chemistry. I watch The Hills even though Audrina has no upper lip and Whitney always sounds like she's about three Quaaludes deep when she speaks. I watch The Hills even though Spencer Pratt is, bar none, the most annoying reality TV character since Omarosa. Listening to him talk makes me want to gouge my eyes out Oedipus style.

But I have a confession to make: I actually watch The Hills for Heidi and Spencer. I'm sort of hoping that they get their own reality show because, honestly, that right there is just good old plain fun train wrecking television.

A re-cap shall we:

It starts off easy and breezy. Lauren saunters in to the Teen Vogue offices, which, thanks to the show I could now spot from outer-space and says HI to Whitney who, I guess got a promotion but still sits with the interns? Um. Cool.

Below is a run down of the opening conversation and what Whitney's and Lauren's thought bubbles would be if we actually had thought bubbles.

"Hi."

"Hi."

"You look pretty."

(I know) "So do you."

(I know) "So what's going on?" (I don't really care though because I'm your boss now and you're boring, but the producer told me to ask you this).

"Did you hear that Spencer and Heidi like totally spread rumors about how I made a sex tape with Jason?" (even though I like totally did).

"Wow. Really?" (Slut)

"I just can't understand why they would hurt me like that." (They didn't even show my good side. The camera made my vajayjay look huge)

(Insert all knowing nod here) "I know." (But it was totally you. I saw it on YouTube.)

Um. Yeaaaah. Lauren and Jason totally made that tape (I mean I think. I mean if I was dating Jason I would have made a tape). It's not a crime to have sex and tape it. It's just a crime of being stupid if you let it get loose. And that's what Lauren did. And she made such a big deal about it. You don't see everyone up in arms about how Heidi looks like a different person with her new nose and gigantically disproportionate boobs.

You should have just left well enough alone Lauren. Stick to being gassed and doing lousy British accents and embarrassing yourself at Les Deux. Don't get all up in Heidi's grill about your sex tape that you're trying to to "forget" about. Confrontation isn't a good color on you Lauren.

There were some other good tid-bits in the two new episodes last night Audrina's new "boyfriend" or "go-to-sex". Um. Nice beret he was wearing while they were out to dinner. Try washing your hair buddy.

Heidi and Spencer talking about painting the apartment. Heidi is like "Um so ya. I think I'm going to pick out some paint for the apartment."

(Pan in on Spencer's frozen clown-face)

"I was thinking like a pale yellow....?"

(Again, pan in on Spencer's clown-face with his teeth all bared) "Yellow Heidi? EEEEEEEEEEEEEE! (that is supposed to be like the sound of a buzzer indicating a "fuck no" response from someone. Such a charmer this one.)

Cut to commercial.

Come back and in walks Heidi to their apartment and all you see is graffiti everywhere. Spencer had someone "paint" their apartment walls in a graffiti motif. Like. Are you kidding me?! Right up on the wall in their living room is a mural with "HOLLYWOOD" in the middle surrounded by dollar signs. Was I absent on the day they taught this in Cool Class? Like WTF?!

Then, Spencer and Brody are tooling around and Spencer decides to tell Brody that he's going to propose to Heidi. Which immediately jump starts a "Dude! Don't do it!" response from Brody. Spencer says he's ready and then says that he'll need to borrow Brody's credit card so he can buy the ring.

Uh-huh.

Cut to the shot of them walking into, what looks to me, like a pawn shop. Spencer goes up to the girl and asks where the "bling" is. She pulls out a white gold ring with a purple stone in the middle surrounded by diamonds. (Just what I always wanted. A gigantic amethyst.)

He purchases it and gives it to Heidi in a "you're so amazing and loyal" marriage proposal. She accepts with a "you're so amazing and loyal" yes and off they go, walking hand in hand into the sunset while Lauren sits at home talking to her mother about how mean people in Hollywood are.

Will Lauren find true love as Les Deux? Will Heidi topple over from her implants? Stay tuned!!

It can't come sooner.

In T-minus 5 hours and 43 minutes it will officially be 5 o'clock p.m. and I will officially be on vacation. (Don't worry. I'll have internet access. I will be blogging. :)

It can't come sooner. I'm at the point right now with my job that I would rather eat beets and be seen wearing tapered jeans than come into work.

I haven't had a vacation since March of 2006. Oh sure I've had days off here and there. I've taken long weekends and two days off in a row but nothing extended. I can't wait to be on vacation. Sweet relief

And isn't it so funny that right before you're about to go on vacation something shit stormy always happens to put you, in like, the WORST mood. I work with a lot of people who are under the impression that they are better than everyone else. They believe that their prep-school, Upper East Side upbringing allows them to 1.) talk shit about everyone and 2.) treat you as if you were the dirt on the gum that is stuck to their last season Gucci pumps.

And of course it's got to be someone that I just really can't stand. Plus I'm not very good at hiding my dislike for people to begin with. Frankly, everyone to me is an ass until proven otherwise. (It really is the only way to roll....trust me.) 

Anyway. It just blew my mind and I had to vent. Naturally this person would start crap with me the day of my vacation. It never fails.

I will close with my inner chant:

This time tomorrow you'll be at the beach. This time tomorrow you'll be at the beach. This time tomorrow you'll be at the beach. This time tomorrow you'll be at the beach....

Random Ramblings to soothe the Monday induced ADD.

So much for not blogging at work.

I'm freaked out. My best friend from college just sent me an email with an image of a clown in it. Apparently the accompanying article was a knee slapper but I didn't get to the article. I was too busy trying to shield my eyes and find the X to click out of the window. I reminded her that clowns freak me out and her response was, "But the article was kinda funny."

This is a girl who is deathly afraid of dogs and like freaks out when a pooch the size of a tic-tac comes near her. She's coming for the weekend. I should probably cancel the Rottweilers. I mean, right?

So now I'm sitting at my desk, marinating in my own sweat because I'm really hot and the time has been 4:50pm for the past like five minutes. The only thing I can really focus on is the glass of wine I will shotgun when I get home. Doing work is virtually impossible because the owners the of the Drydock have decided that number 25 needs a face lift. The scaffolding they put up looks like it was last used to build the George Washington bridge and there are guys in hard hats swinging around on the bars, sans harness, whistling at people and ripping butts (**hip new term for smoking**).

It's actually giving me a lot of anxiety. Especially when I try to eat my salad at my desk and they stare at me while doing so.

Having trapeze artists outside of your window also makes it awkward when I'm trying to shop for boys (i.e: cruise the online dating sites to see what residents of clown town have moved into the neighborhood). I have been emailing back and forth with this one guy for about two weeks now. And I just reread his profile and he's like really into working out. Like he works out about 3-5 times a week. And he's looking for someone with the same habits.

Why he emailed me I have no idea. I'm lucky if I get out there and walk around Castle Island twice in one week. And if I happen to do some free weights? *psha* Then I am of the mindset that I just ran a marathon and I can go a little easy with the working out for a while. He asked to hang out and I'm thinking of replying back with, "Just so you know, I canceled my gym membership. Is that a deal breaker?"

While shopping today, I came across this guy:

He either really hates his friends or just doesn't know how to crop himself out and only knows how to crop little white box faces. I've actually been seeing the white box face epidemic a lot recently. And by a lot I mean I really need to wrap up this whole online dating thing because yesterday when I was home for Father's Day watching the Red Sox with the family, a commercial for that new show Sox Appeal on NESN came on and my mother whipped her head around and barked at me, "Leeeee-SAH! Why ahn't you on that?!"

Clearly my mother is not hip to the "camera adds ten pounds" way of thinking.

"Um. Because."

"Leeee-SAH! You need to send an audition tape in!"

"Mom. I'm all set."

"Does it cost money? I'll pay for it."

"Mom-"

"Hey, you'd get to go to the Sox game and sit in the monster seats!" That was my dad's contribution to the conversation.

I'm all set. I'd rather wait online at the box office in the sweltering heat than have a first date video taped. Even though I'm a good first date. I always kill it on the first date.