I learned much of what I know about dudes from Alicia Silverstone. I’ll go through most movies without even learning the characters’ names. But a few, and I’m sure saying that "Clueless" was one of them doesn’t make me unique, had the might to stick with me throughout my formative years as a guidebook for adolescence and adulthood. (I learned that shame doesn’t exist from the nice people on MTV Spring Break.)
Along with it being okay to bone your stepbrother, and the fact that white jeeps are the ultimate, I learned that, “Anything that you can do to draw attention to your mouth is good.”
I can't endorse lollipops. The finesse needed to casually eat a lollipop as an adult without literally displaying DSLs is difficult to achieve. Plus, nobody has offered to pay to me to do it yet, and I won’t endorse them for free. Plus, I don’t even really like lollipops, except for Tootsie Pops, but then you’re left with this weird drippy piece of shit on a stick at the end and that’s definitely not sexy.
A lot of girls do the gum thing well, blowing bubbles and shit. I, unfortunately, haven’t been able to enjoy a piece of gum since I was a teenager after seeing the Misfits for the first time.
I listened to Static Age on repeat, Bullet finally made being from Dallas interesting, blah blah blah, they were one of my favorites. I get there expecting everything to be awesome. More Hot Topic than I would have liked to see, but I quickly came to realize that these weren’t the Misfits from Static Age.
Some dude named Robo was drumming, Dez Cadena from Black Flag was on guitar, which left Jerry Only, the sole original, trying to fill Danzig’s shoes as lead singer. He doesn’t have Danzig’s smooth baritone, so all of the songs were performed unrecognizably fast, I’m guessing to try to make it all end a little sooner.
I still totally asked him to sign my shirt, because it’s Jerry Fucking Only. Things got real weird real quick when the sweaty 48-year-old, bloated-armed Jersey bro dipped his finger into his black eye-socket to smudge an inverted cross on my forehead, then took a huge wad of flavorless neon green gum out of his mouth and placed it into my own in the most uncomfortably seductive manner. He’d been chewing it the entire set.
Now, no matter what flavor I have, every piece ends up tasting just like it. I remember that look. The smell. **shudders**
Good news is that you don’t need props to have great lips! Size and shape is relative, like boobs, but having a soft, smooth set is choice. Like boobs. Most days I’ll brush over my lips with my toothbrush. In hindsight, it’s probably not a great idea to brush harsh, chemical-laden toothpaste into your dry lips. So maybe have a separate, softer toothbrush that you only use on your lips. I’m gonna go pick one up today! (But I probably won’t get around to it.)
Sometimes, if they’re really flakey, I’ll mix olive oil and turbinado sugar in a paste and rub it on my lips with my finger. It’s really nice, I promise.
Recently, I decided that one of the things that adults do to cleave the gap between idiot and maturity is buy many different types of creams to slather on several different parts of their bodies. I pretend that I know where the fuck my life is going by slowly adopting perceived adult habits, so I dropped more than a few dollars on an eye cream and a lip balm.
The lip balm is a winner, ding ding! I’ve used Aquaphor forever and it leaves my lips all rubbery and weird, so I’ll chew on them, which is gross and makes them drier. First Aid Beauty’s Ultra Repair Lip Therapy just made them feel pleasant and not as raw.
Lip gloss is one of those beauty products that I’ve never itched for. Of course I’ve worn it, but at some point I chose to never make it a part of my routine. Then I tried Josie Maran’s Argan Luscious Lips gloss thinking that it was a treatment, and ended up liking how it looked. You have to let it melt into your lips for a few minutes, then the color fades nicely and it feels more smooth than sticky.
Lastly, I like to say how thankful I was to be back home in Dallas for a few days last week, for I could finally get my hair cut and colored by my people at Osgood O’Neil. I was all, “Black. Like my wretched soul. Or like Daisy Lowe, whatever.” Then my mom told me I looked like Elvira and I was like, “Oh we’re talking shit now?” So I bought the lightest color foundation that Armani offers just to spite her.