I am 35 years old - 36 in two weeks - and I am writing a post about Kendall Jenner.
You know why?
Because I blame her.
I am 35 years old - 36 in two weeks - and I am writing a post about Kendall Jenner.
You know why?
Because I blame her.
Am presently working on replacing my bloodstream with pure Keurig. Related: Traveling is exhausting.
There were some things that happened over the course of the past week that were not especially fun. My Egg Salad Sandwich Panic Attack, as an example: not fun. Dropping my phone onto a MetroNorth train track: also not fun. (Except for the climax of this particular incident, which involved my dad and me getting into his car in the middle of the night, driving up to the Ossining train station, and then dangling over the edge of the track and using a fruit picker that we'd borrowed from a bodega to get my phone back. That part was perhaps not especially smart, per se, but oh yes, it was fun.)
Losing various personal possessions, including a pair of shoes that I was actually wearing at the time they went missing? Weird. And super not fun.
LOOK. AT THESE. EASTER BUNNIES.
I can’t even stand it.
A few weeks ago, if you remember, I wrote about how I tried a microdermabrasion treatment - not because I wanted to, exactly, but rather because I had discussed using a BBL laser treatment on the rosacea on my cheeks (which you may not have noticed, since I wear makeup to cover it, but trust me, it's there - and it's RED). Except the aesthetician had informed me that I had to do microdermabrasion first (to treat the little case of hormone-related adult acne I've recently developed, WHEE). 3 weeks later, my skin was (relatively) chilled-out, and I went in for the BBL treatment in hopes of combating the underlying problem.
I've never done anything laser-related before and was a little nervous - so of course I took my camera with me into the treatment room. Of course. (And please don't watch this video if you typically get freaked out by stuff like this; the "after" picture isn't especially lovely.)
My friend Mollie is the only person I have ever met who is capable of getting kicked out of a haunted house. You know those live-action haunted houses where you're supposed to scream and freak out? Where that's pretty much the point? Well, Mollie's reaction to being charged at by a child-sized vampire was apparently so very extreme and so very loud that the management was forced to turn the lights on - and speaking as a frequent haunted-house-goer and liberal screamer, let me assure you that this literally does not happen at these places, ever. And then they told her to leave, and to never come back again. She got blacklisted from a haunted house.