Happy Easter [Monday]!
Featuring followers of Cathol, and those certain hats they make you wear,
you’re a good man BD Wong,
and of course,
I haven’t posted anything recently because my guy friend who’s good at computers is helping me reformat my blog.
Just kidding, I’ve just been so busy learning about life. About me.
Actually I’ve just been lazy. But this is great.
Once upon a time, there was a girl. I don’t remember much about her, but she lived far away in a snowy northern land, bordered by a river of tears to the south, and a river of Troika to the east. Much love was gained, and much love was lost, and for the better part of two years, she locked herself in a princess tower, and read stories about heroes.
She read about all kinds of heroes. Heroes who flew. Heroes who fought. Heroes who performed great feats of strength. But her favorite stories were about heroes who survived. Heroes who performed the great feat of bearing the weight of their own burdens, and the burdens of others. And her favorite,
A letter between truth and death, he, like so many heroes in so many stories, was written into life and charged to protect, only to end up walking the precariously fine and all too human line between salvation and destruction. Still, she loved him.
Eventually, and reluctantly, the girl came down from her princess tower and joined the real world. She didn’t stop reading about heroes. She even started watching Heroes, confirming that which she had always suspected: Hayden Panettiere is a lovely girl with bizarrely small hands. Really, really tiny hands. Just so small.
Anyway, despite holding out til the end of the night, night after night
the real world failed to produce anyone strong, fast, fresh from the fight, sure, soon, larger than life, and/or adept with a black-light bull whip.
But one day, in crept the sneaking suspicion that she’s got this. That maybe the girl was alright. So she asked someone who loves her very much to help write the word on her, and bring her to life.
So there you have it 2013. Give me truth and justice, or give me death.
No, wait, it’s…whatever. The point is, I’m now out of luck on both accounts. I went to the eye doctor a couple weeks ago and received TRAGIC news: I have some sort of non-pink-eye (or as I have so eloquently been describing it, non-fart-on-your-pillow) conjunctivitis caused by the disgusting pieces of plastic that I’ve been allowing to float around my eyes up to sixteen hours a day for the past thirteen years. Seriously guys, think about contacts. They’re really gross.
Moral of the story, after showing me an appropriately horrifying chart with a picture of what the inside of my eyelids look like now and what could happen if I continue my extended contact wearing ways,
I was told I needed to cut back on my lens time, and I decided to listen. Because sentient, violent, intellectual eye infections are not my bag (looks like we just found rule four, amirite?).
So that’s it. My days of dead-eyeing you from across the room with my enormous icy stare are over, or will at least be more commonly mitigated by a growing collection of over-sized frames. But that’s also exactly what brings me comfort in this trying time. It’s like they always say: when life hands you lemons, arm yourself with an arsenal of glasses that will turn an unfortunate case of conjunctivitis into an opportunity to emulate awesome four-eyed icons. Do NOT squeeze the lemons into your eyes, because that will only make it worse. And most importantly, never, EVER feed them after midnight, because not doing so could have prevented this whole mess in the first place.
Anyway, let’s review. I’ve got my old faithfuls
For that classic, I’m going red light special all through the night writing my thesis/this is the face I make when I wear these glasses and think about that time I wrote that thesis but I might go back to school or something soon and I’m totally not traumatized by the last experience so it’s cool whatever whatever whatever look.
No but seriously, those are great. Still, I decided to move away from that look a bit for NO OTHER REASON than I wanted to look like Cyril Figgis from Archer
Ok maybe something more versatile. Let’s try THE four-eyed icon of all time
I didn’t get it quite right, but I think I did ok
And in no time it’ll be like
and then I’ll have my face back. Actually, the doctor said it might take a while. Until then I’ve got Cyril, Iris, and the ultimate glasses goddess and new We Look Awesome cover girl, Peggy Clare
Gremlins and glasses and grandmas, oh my.
Oh hey folks. I’ve missed you! I’ve been really busy with my professional writing career, specifically penning my aforementioned memoirs (SEE TITLE). To be released in 2014, riding the coattails of the Tayisha Busay memoir: Judy. Donna. Ponytails, Higher Caliber. Everywhere., which I also happen to be ghostwriting.
So how does this circumstance look? Well, first of all, consists of me hunched over a 1956 Golden Touch Electric Underwood typewriter,
not because I’ve completely succumbed to the inherent hipsterdom that comes with a Bushwick address (though I have), or because it’s the most appropriate machine on which to type with elbow-length “magic” golden gloves (though it is), but because at this point it’s actually more technologically advanced than my sad, Baghdad computer. The only thing my computer is good for anymore is shopping for Liza Minelli memorabilia on ebay. Which, bringing me to my second of all, is actually a total blessing, because finding this vintage t-shirt from Liza’s 198o tour, Liza in Concert, helped start (along with a multifaceted emotional awakening, SEE KATE CHOPIN) the beautifully inspiring river of mascara tears that’s been flowing from my eyeholes for the past two and a half months:
REAL mascara tears, breaking dams and shit. Because $40 and with only a few kool-aid stains (OR THE BLOOD OF LIZA FANS)??? Oh geez, I’m tearing up again…
So that’s it; me bent over my typewriter, clothed in nothing but an oversized Liza in Concert t-shirt and long golden gloves screaming “HOW’M I DOIN MAMA??”
Surrounded by six men in sailor suits for the occasional song and dance, naturally. Did you ever picture my life any other way?
But srsly, coming soon: that happy face. Back off Sandy, it’s always sunny on the Isle of Nathargabaw.
It’s been about two months since Spider Cahoots burst into a pile of pixie dust and floated out of my life on a cloud of failure, propelled by a gentle breeze of best intentions. You know what that means, babies: time for break up hair.
I first practiced the ancient Himalayan art of break up hair after break up numero previouso, with a Rihanna-inspired ‘do that went all but terribly wrong:
But whatever whatever whatever, I made it work. And with Nathanael as an accessory, you really can’t go wrong. Besides, beauty isn’t exactly the objective with these kinds of haircuts. Independence and re-growth and such, you undehstand.
So here goes nothin’:
What’s next for me, girl with the whole wide world as my $1 happy hour oyster? What’s the ultimate objective?
Kim Daly Esquire, MAa) and Dr. Ste Blau, PhDb)
Willoughby Talon Research Institute, Brooklyn, NY 11237
In which we discuss products and productivity.
Nearly six months ago, I landed the coveted position of research assistant to the ruthlessly awesome Dr. Ste Blau, PhD. We’ve worked tirelessly, sometimes late into the night, sometimes through the weekends, burning the midnight Netflix instant queue, to make headway in the most cutting-edge talon research. Many beauty supply stores have been visited. Some dreams have been broken. A table cloth was ruined in a Silkwood-esque toxic spill.
Yep, shit got real.
Yet much hope has been forged in this labor-intensive half-year. Because in the awesomeness research system, talon based research is considered especially heinous. In New York City, the dedicated scientists who investigate these vicious talons are members of an elite squad known as the Willoughby Talon Research Institute. These are their stories.
II. Experimental Procedures
A. Foundations – the cracks of which my fingertips are holding onto.
No matter where you find inspiration or learn technique, in talon research you have exactly one best friend: Sally Hansen. Girlfriend knows. You might be tempted by OPIs flashier polishes and clever copy, and in some cases you should be, but Sally really rocks our world in terms of basics.
I’m not really a belieber in nail hardeners, but this one does the trick as a base coat. The quick-dry top coat is NECESSARY. It’s chip resistant, and
really the only way to avoid pillow stains/marks that magically appear even though you waited 39084598 hours for your nails to dry before going to bed. Necessary. Unfortunately, it can goop up before the bottle is done, causing air bubbles and general grossness, so seal tight and replace often.
Most of the styles shown below can be achieved with a steady hand, but tools are occasionally called for:
Pictured, clockwise from left:
-Seven-step file – for when extensive filing is needed.
-Loose-leaf reinforcements – for half-moon manicures, watermelon rinds, etc.
-Four-step file – for touch ups between manicures.
-French-tip brush, with pen – for french tips, reverse french, stripes, rain drops that keep falling on your head, and special designs if y’all are artsy.
-French-tip brush, sans pen – the pen doesn’t necessarily do it for me, so I usually defer to the brush-only version. This brand has also been popping up increasingly in drug stores, so points for convenience.
Not pictured, clockwise from the top of my head:
-Tape – for french manicures with regular brushes (I hear rubber bands work as well). Use top coat before applying!
-Sponges – for sponging.
-Q-tips – for clean up and because they’re awesome.
Other than that, we work with what we have. It’s not much,
but actually it is. That’s a lot of fucking nail polish. Now, let’s result and discuss.
III. Results and Discussion
A. Roy G. Biv
B. Maths (specifically geometry)
Luxurious golden blood-mink
Airport flag laundromat pastel
Color block party BYOB
D. Unbreak my heart
Sally Hansen Crackle probably works just as well, for a better price, but the OPI gold is sparklier. Henceforth, vis-a-vis, thus.
E. Caviar (and miller high life)
This shit is expensive!
$25 at Sephora!1 What am I , made of money? The answer is no, I’m not.
Luckily, one hot and sunny Sunday, during a particularly successful beauty store run, we found THIS
Check out that price tag, amirite!? And they’re real beauts, too
F. (for FINALLLLLY) 4th of July Amrika Rilness
As y’all may know I am a PA-TRI-OT, and as such did it up as usual for the 4th with some Ril Amrikan Pearlz
Yes, but do you have a flag? Sure do, boo.
Also btdubs FYI, I was wearing this
If you were wondering, and I’m sure you were, yes, the pattern on the pants is tiny horses.
The Dr. also whipped up something special for our nation’s birfday:
Implicitly reminiscent of gymnastics leotards, a clear nod to the 2012 London Olympics. Go Team USA!! Cheerios!!!!
G. (for: gotcha, there’s one more!, galaxy, galactica, glandular, globule, and gefilte fish) The (s)Kim Milky Way2
Adorning my nails as I type this, I can safely say that it is my favorite manicure ever of all time. Really just tops.
IV. Conclusions and Further Research
Recently, I’ve read a couple of articles on the popularity of nail art, and general consensus suggests that – you guessed it – the deadbeat economy is to thank for the recent surge. It makes sense; in New York specifically rents and student loans are skyrocketing, starting salaries are decreasing, and the city can only think of solutions like this
Smaller and smaller boards for that game night favorite “Small Mouse or Large Roach (Urban Bunny Urban Bunny Urban Bunny)?” Apparently, despite the dearth of economic opportunities, my generation continues to buy more and more luxury items. iPhone? Check. $500 Chanel flats? Not so much. $26 Chanel nail color?
Yes please. (It’s even cheaper when it’s a gift!) The heights you can reach with nail art far surpasses those that can be obtained with apparal, especially when you’re on a budget and in deep debt. To paraphrase the great philosopher Morissette, “It’s like meeting the man of your dreams/and then meeting [a man with a good job who treats you way better].”
Evidence abounds, just check out this lady. Or these gals
Everybody’s talkin’ bout talons. So where do we go from here? I come to you with open arms.
(i) Leopard print.
(iii) Gel manicures with bows, dangly things, crazy prints, etc.
(iv) Prenatal vitamins.
They’re supposedly good for hair, nails, and removing unwanted Brooklyn Ds from your apartment/life.
(v) Be more like Rihanna.
Talon-wise and every day in every way, obvi.
SCIENCE! ‘Til next time, loves.
I would like to thank the Dr. for taking a chance on an unknown kid.
a) Master of Awesome, School of Soft Knocks, The Internet
b) Phly & Dope Talon Specialist, The University Formerly Known as New Hebrides, Vanuatu
1. Sephora Nails. 1000 Ways to Get Polished. Sephora University Press, New York, NY, 2012
2. Rookie Mag. “Galaxy Nails.” http://rookiemag.com/2012/03/galaxy-nails/