Confetti and glitter!!!

When I am going through the most crap in my personal life, I tend to deflect well and come up with funny stuff.

That whole theory about comedians being funny because it's the only way they can deal with the shit life throws at them definitely has truth to it.

This is how I cope.

So there.

I'll be funny instead of writing about everything else going on.

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I need makeup. I know. This is of earth-shattering importance. I've used the same thing for something like 20 years (shut up about how old I am, mmmkay?), but the geniuses at the company that I won't call out decided to discontinue it. Probably because only a few 20-year hold outs were buying this stuff, but whatever. It may rhyme with Danique.

Bastards.

Anyway, I need to get new stuff. AND THIS THOUGHT TERRIFIES ME.

No, really.

I don't branch well. I'm allergic to like half the stuff in the cosmetic world.

I want to be a normal person and go to Ulta and touch all the things, but my inner freak comes out. Between the germs from all the other people touching things and the potential allergic reactions, I LOSE MY SHIT when I even think about it.

Making me hyperventilate a little bit.

Here's what I envision. I'm not sure you are ready for this.

First, I need to carve out time when I'm sufficiently calm AND alone. This mostly means that I need to be drinking. Except that the only time I'm alone is weekday mornings. And people generally frown on public drunkenness before noon.

I CANNOT go with the kids because I just can't. I need to pay attention to my own needs, not say stop touching that 673 times in a row. The girls beg me to go there all the time and I always end up walking out without the thing I went there for because it's out of stock or I lost my patience trying to look for it or I said stop touching that one too many times and lost my shit.

I DO leave Ulta every time with three hundred tubes of lipgloss that my girls required in order to survive. And a minimum of three bottles of OPI nail polish because I'm addicted to that crap.

Second, I hate foundation but I have to wear it because my skin is such a wreck. I have had acne since I was 10. That's right, people. 26 goddamn years. I have pissed off bitchy combination skin that can't decide if it should have wrinkles or pimples now, so it stopped trying to decide one day and just said FUCK IT - let's have both! Hooray!!!!

Wrinkles and pimples for everyone!!!!

Confetti and glitter!!!

Foundation either makes me shiny or pasty, settles into the lines or highlights every blemish like an individual piece of glitter landed there on purpose. I HAVE to try it out. And I'm a cheap bastard...so while I know that I could buy and it return it if it doesn't work, I'm a cheap bastard and that idea doesn't compute in my head. I have to try it. Except that other people tried it before and you know that even though they leave out those little q-tips and cotton balls that no one actually uses them, and I'm pretty sure that everyone who touched it before me didn't wash their hands when they went to the bathroom and then drug their knuckles on the pavement before walking in.

And then they finger stirred.

Of course they finger stirred.

GAWD. I hate samples.

People with anxiety problems cannot sample.

Third, assuming I can work up the courage to even sample the shit in the first place, I will probably break out in hives. BECAUSE THAT IS WHAT MAKES ME AWESOME. If a drunk germaphobe in a store breaks out in hives, you should give her some Benadryl. When you give her some Benadryl, she's going to fall asleep within minutes. Like out cold, dead to the world asleep. My apologies in advance to the employees of Ulta. I've worked retail, and I know you don't get paid enough to deal with my drunk, allergic, sleeping ass.

Fourth, if I can find something that actually looks decent on my skin and doesn't require me to lives on Benadryl for the rest of eternity, chances are that it will cost me $100 per ounce because it will be made of unicorn farts. You know that unicorn farts are rare, and they can only be processed in this one super secret way by this one foreign company.

Fifth, my unicorn fart foundation that I will fall madly in love with will get discontinued at some point in the future, and I will have to do this all over again.

If I still have pimples, I'm going to be so pissed.

Who wants to go to Ulta with me?