This is a follow on to the eyeliner post. Another artifact of my late twenties, if you will. It’s recently become insufficient to just stumble into my car and assume that by the time I get to work my face will have woken up enough on its own to  be presentable. Yeah, I’m finding that I now have to physically coerce my own face into taking part in the day.

And this little practical joke being played on me by the universe is made all the more difficult by my absolute refusal to purchase makeup anywhere other than the grocery store. This is partially because I’m frugal and partially because I’m scared of girls who work at dedicated makeup counters.

So see Exhibit A, like $70 worth of products, 80% of which can eff the eff off because they suck. I’ll point out the ones I actually like some other time, but for now I’d just like to say that someone owes me money. I’m not sure who, but I’m going to start by invoicing Seventeen magazine and seeing how that pans out.