Wherein I express myriad incredulities

Posts Tagged ‘despair

Oh my god, I’m hideous.

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Sometimes I can’t decide if it’s smart or insane to prepare for shopping as much as I do.

First of all, there’s appearance – I want to look like someone who has money so that salespeople will suck up to me.

The more important thing, however, is mental and emotional preparation. I hate shopping malls. I think that shopping malls need more bars and pharmacists.

Have you ever gone to a makeup counter without preparing yourself mentally first? Don’t do that, it’s terrible for you. It’s worse than smoking. Smoking will kill your lungs slowly, but going to the makeup counter can kill your spirit instantaneously. UNLESS you go in prepared.

Could this be avoided if you just went to Walgreens to get your concealer? Technically, yes, but without samples and color matching you’re going to spend so much damn money trying to find the right shade that you might as well have shelled out to Clinique, whose product is better anyway. If you can’t tell the difference, then you must have goddess-like porcelain skin, and you may step off because you are not one of those people who need to brace themselves for makeup counter interactions.

Every time I walk up to a makeup counter, I am prepared for someone to immediately feel licensed to point out every single flaw on my face, the one part of my body that I can never cover, and on which I know that we are all judged. Yes, Clinique lady, I might benefit from exfoliating more. Oh, my pores are so big that you can see them from 3 feet away? And you see that I have sunspots? It’s never too early for eye cream, you say? Yes, I do still have acne blemishes on a regular basis.

They are really good at making you feel like some kind of beast that no one will ever love because no one can bear to look at your face. They are trained to make you look in a mirror and see nothing but problems.

Now, I’m realistic. I don’t have perfect skin. I need some help with it. But my personal rules for the makeup counter are:

  1. Remember that you are not hideous and that people do love you, and would still love you even if you used all that shit on your face that Estee Lauder is recommending which caused your skin to melt off.
  2. Only allow them to treat one problem per visit. One day, go in for your blemishes. Another day, go in for getting a summer moisturizer for your oily skin. Make it a separate trip for eye cream. Don’t let the person behind the counter make you feel like an acne-ridden behemoth whose ancient-looking face could be McDonald’s backup fryer.

Solidarity, sisters. Do not let the makeup counter defeat you.


Written by fudgebudget

May 13, 2013 at 5:43 pm

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Not ready

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I am not ready to confront the lines on my forehead that I swear appeared overnight. This is the solo dialog that just happened in my bathroom.

What. Is this.

Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no.

Maybe my skin is just dry?

Dummy, you live in the desert, it is ALWAYS dry here.

Oh god, I am going to get old and die one day.

I was ready for gray hair. I like my gray hair. Because it’s still mostly brown.

Need shea butter. Lots of shea butter. Right now. It’s masque time.

So here I sit, all shiny and shea-slathered, thinking about how it is completely unfair that earlier this evening I also had an “OMG I can’t believe that just came out of my face” zit popping moment. My face has seen better days. And all the better days are gone.

Written by fudgebudget

December 7, 2011 at 5:26 am

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Teen Mom

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I got sucked into Teen Mom.


Let me sum up most of the relationships on the show.

This is what I imagine those kids will think when they are their parents’ age.

That show is like a train wreck and I just can’t take my eyes away from it. It has, however, positively reinforced my decision earlier in life to not become a social worker.

Written by fudgebudget

October 3, 2011 at 3:20 pm

The Perfect Storm

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I booked a hotel reservation last month so that I wouldn’t have to camp out under a bridge when I go to a conference in June.

I went through a 3rd party vendor to book my room because the rate was awesome that way, and I could use Bill Me Later to spread my payments out over 6 months interest free. Win/win/win, right?

Well, then I decided that this would be an excellent opportunity to have a family get together and the mother and sibling could come. ANOTHER WIN, right?

Current tally: win/win/win/win

Well, my room only has a queen sized bed, but they were only going to be there for 3 of the 6 days that I would be there. So, brilliant idea, how about I upgrade the room to a double/double for the days my mom and sister would be there? I could just pay the difference and save the family money!


So, I called the 3rd party vendor:

She must have this on her upholstered cubicle wall:



So I called the hotel:


Then they didn’t call.  I FINALLY got in touch with them, and they said:

So she said-

Wait for it …

At this point, I am trying not to scream at her. I managed to say:


This was repeated a second time, by the way. They claimed to have called and left a voicemail AGAIN when they did not.


And, of course, when I finally spoke to a manager, they still couldn’t do anything about the reservation. But, they did make sure to tell me that if they managed to do what they’ve been telling me for 2 days that they cannot do, there will be a $35 room change fee.

Because OF COURSE there is.


I didn’t want to give up and just get an additional room, because I couldn’t bear the thought of the hotel WINNING in this case. My perverted sense of justice can’t handle it. But, there’s no way that the employees at this hotel don’t know my name by now. I’m honestly afraid that the people to whom I have raised my voice are going to make sure that my room has unwashed linens and gross towels.


The only good thing, though, is that the second room is booked, and I will get to spend time with my mother and sister, and none of this will go to support the Trumps or Hilton family.

Now, I have to go suck up. This is painful. Really, really painful. But I don’t want my hotel stay to resemble a 20/20 investigation.

Fail/fail/fail/fail/fail/fail/fail/fail/FAIL/win. Ish.

Commence the fist shaking.

Written by fudgebudget

May 3, 2011 at 10:50 pm


with 2 comments

Dear Juniper,

You think you’re so great. You think that because you are a benevolent looking green thing in a state populated solely by apathetic people and hippies that your offensive nature would go unnoticed.

You were wrong, Juniper.

Juniper, I don’t understand why you are so hell-bent on making my life miserable. While my eyes may find you aesthetically neutral, my sinuses want you to die.

And so I propose, Juniper, that you stick to that for which you are good – the ONLY thing for which you are good – and that is flavoring gin.

No, Juniper, I know what you are going to say – but please, spare us the painful words of resentful parting and go quietly. Into my bottle of gin. And out of my sinuses. Because I cannot handle going home everyday with headaches that have me in tears. If you really loved me, Juniper, you wouldn’t want to make me cry.

No love,


Photo stolen shamelessly from this person, since I was too afraid to get that close to take a picture – http://www.flickr.com/photos/razzumitos/4950498890/


Written by fudgebudget

February 10, 2011 at 8:10 pm


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It is a widely known fact between my friends (and probably anyone that’s ever been within ten feet of me) that I HATE television banter. Don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about.

HAHAHA. Ooooooh everything on local news and morning shows is SO FUNNY and everyone just LAUGHS AND LAUGHS and it’s so fake it makes me want to puke and/or gauge someone’s eyes out. Preferably the people on TV who are the single biggest contributors to the hole in the ozone since everyone in the 1980s.

News background came from here and the squirrel came from here.

Written by fudgebudget

December 9, 2010 at 5:14 pm


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Anyone who has ever worked in a library knows EXACTLY what I am talking about.

Creepers are the patrons who creep the hell out of you.  Every library has at LEAST one patron who does this on a regular basis. At the public library, we had Crazy Hannah Montana Dude, the Stacks Flasher, and before we had an enclosed desk there was a myriad of people who would sneak up behind us and breathe in our ears (yes, that is as creepy and distressing as it sounds).

At my current library, we have a guy who comes in almost every morning to use the computers. He camps out by the door and waits for me to open, pushing his way in before I can even unlock the other door. Sometimes he prints things, and he always manages to get up to the desk before the printer stops, which means that I can’t hear him approach. And he’s just THERE. Staring vacantly. His gaze reminds me of being stalked by a goose, as he has an oddly shaped head and I can never see the whites of his eyes.

The creepiest part, however, is the fact that the tone of his voice never matches his facial expressions. Like he’ll leer at you while speaking cheerfully.

So to those of you who read this and have a buffer between yourself and the public: I envy you. You don’t have stalker geese who are more than vaguely reminiscent of John Wayne Gacy.

I am not responsible for whatever happens if a clown ever shows up in here.

Written by fudgebudget

December 8, 2010 at 6:56 pm