50% correct, except really more.
Because even though only 1 of each of the Idol I painsakingly hand-selected for voter booteritude, ALL of my choices were in the bottom 3 for boys and girls.
Lushy was no shock to me. Archy’s gut-wracking hystercial sobbing from the bleachers was a bit surprising, however. I particularly liked the sort of sneaky camera shots at start of it… with Luke uncomfortably patting the weeping mess next to him. For a moment, I had a bit of an interest in David Archuleta. “OH MY GOD, do you think they were.. you know, an item?” I mean, they both look all of 12, but as the mother of a 16-year-old, nothing surprises me, now. Ok. Ok. So, she’s singing her song.. and he’s weeping and the camera is panning back and forth between them and I’m waiting for that famous Rosie/Elizabeth split screen thing to happen… and then it’s over and she runs, nay BOUNDS off the stage and into his arms. And I am like this:
“HOOOOOOOOOOOOOLY SHIT!” Because that’s pretty much frowned upon.. and she flings her arms around him and she’s so tall and thin that for a second she’s just all knees and elbows around this little weeping guy and his arm comes up and he goes, pat. pat-pat-pat. pat-a-pat. pat. pat. Like, weird, don’t touch me pats that you give someone that you don’t actually want to hug you. You know? The kind that if they could talk take this kind of progression:
“Heh. Heh. Yeah… ok…”
“Oh, really, that’s probably enough. You don’t need to hug me anymore.”
“Okaaaaay. Getting a little uncomfortable here, buddy.”
“Please stop touching me.”
So, THAT was weird. But totally the most intersting thing about him so far.
Where’s my ocean view?
I worked pretty late on Thursday. Kory picked the baby up because I was planning to go play poker and see my long lost best friend (who now lives and works on a schedule that is completely incompatible with everyone else on earth) but ended up not feeling well and just worked late and decided to go home.
As I stepped out of the building at 7pm, I am startled by the number of cars in the parking lot. I’m ALWAYS surprised by the number of cars in our parking lot, forgetting that we have areas that are open for business quite late and that we are a haven for travelers that park at our building and lightrail to the airport. It was cold and snowing and honestly, it’s always a little creepy walking out to my car in an abandoned parking lot. If I was a vampire or a creepy rapist, I would totally hang out in abandoned parking lots on snowy nights. At least, that’s what I was thinking as I boogied my way out to my car.
However, this night there is something new. There is a big white truck with it’s bed almost vertical and it’s doing donuts all over the parking lot. Zoom! Whippy! Turn! Skid! Zoom! Back up! Whip around! Zoom! It appears as though this truck is, in fact, laying down salt. Except the driver is a cross between BobCat Goldthwait in “One Crazy Summer” and that evil mailman in “Funny Farm”…. and he doesn’t appear to have spotted me, THE PEDESTRIAN, who will have to cross this whirling dervish of truck and ice and salt to get to my SUV.
So, like any reasonable person, I start doing that strange start-stop walking thing where you kind of go in one direction and then you sort of veer into another direction. Except I can not predict where this insane salt truck is going to go next. He doesn’t seem to have a pattern and I’m all in black and considering just breaking into a run and hoping for the best… and the closer I get to the car, the more I realized that its not just snow in the air… it’s clouds of salt. My eyes are burning and my lips are salty.
Which is exactly what its like to stand by the ocean. Minus the splendor and the beach and the homeless people.
Blend
I went to the mall with my friend Dani on Friday to exchange some make up at Sephora. I had made a too-quick purchase about a month ago and ended up with make up that made me look like TAN FACE DENISE. I’ve never exchanged or returned make-up so I was little nervous about it, and if you don’t know Sephora… well, it’s the Tiffany’s of make up. I ALWAYS feel underdressed when I’m in there. I feel sort of ugly and poor and unrefined and I always feel like the help specialists that work there look at me like I must be lost… like I’m looking to splurge on some Revlon instead of my usual Wet-n-Wild… and normally, I give the BIG FAT BIRD to people to act like that and treat people(me) that way, except Sephora is… well, lets just say I decided to start my own religion – if bowing and kneeling were required, it would be the direction of Sephora.
Anyway, they were extremely nice about the exchange and a friendly girl did the match on my skin so I could get the right color and I’m plotting my move on the perfumes (they will give you a sample of anything by creating your own perfect little spray bottle for you BY HAND…but I digress) when this man, this Chris Daughtry look-alike with big weird ashtrays implanted in his earlobes, this Tool-Time- Chad with his slender, stylish black apron filled with the most fabulous and outrageous display of make-up brushes that you have EVER SEEN IN YOUR ENTIRE LIFE – small ones, long ones, fat ones, thin ones, white ones, FOX HAIR ONES, DIAMOND ENCRUSTED MINK FUR ONES…
So, I am standing at the Urban Decay eyeshadows and following conversation happens:
Dude: Sooooo… are you perusing the gorgeous colors?
Me: (cautious, irritated as usual when approached by sales people) Mmmm..hmmm…
Dude: You know, (flicking a fluffy brush at the display) you could totally wear these colors.
Me: Weeeell, they’re pretty – but they are a bit much.
These are the colors he is speaking of, by the way:
Dude: With your coloring??? You would look AMAZING!
Me: What? Me? (totally sucked in) Since I have dark eyes and dark hair? (Compliment me more, please.)
Dude:Oh my GAWD, yes!
Me: (Here comes the coy…) Actually, I’m really into MAC eyeshadow right now.
Dude: YOU CAN NOT BLEND THOSE! Seriously! I used to work for MAC! Their shadows do! not! blend! (He’s getting little spit bubbles in the corner of his mouth.)
Me: Blend? I don’t blend. Honey, I don’t have time to blend.
Dude: So, you are satisfied just with just putting on whatever color you get? (shocked)
Me: *rolls eyes* Um, if I am paying $18 for an eyeshadow, it’s because I WANT the color I bought.
Dude: Girl, you do not know what you are missing.
And then, he kind of squares off, rolls up his sleeves and leans over and examines his apron full of brushes…and then it starts – the Flurry of Brushes.
Think Edward Scissorhands with eye shadow brushes.
Think Michaelangelo.
Think Richard Simmons.
The man was a MASTER. He was swirling and tapping and brushing and color-combining and this is me: “OH!” “Pretty!” “Oh!” *clapping* “Oh my God!” “Beautiful” “I love it!” *more clapping*
Me: Stop! I can’t take anymore!
Dude: *smug look* So, you’ll take the palette of 9 colors?
Me: (weakly) Yes.
Dude: You’ll need the brush, as well….
Me: Yes. Yes! All of it!
Dude: You know, you totally deserve this. You are WORTH this!
Me: Yeaaah. I deserve it. Yeah! I do!
Dude: Oh honey, (pats me on the arm) your life is never going to be the same.
And guess what?
I don’t look like Liberace and the colors DO blend and they DO look just fine with my coloring.
Sephora – I love you! (Mind-control optional.)