Dark horseface

November's my favorite month of the year... well... yeah, for the most part. I like the nostalgic feel to the month.
Dark days. Crisp air. Good food. Sweaters. Scarves. Red noses. Good movies. I dig.

This year, to celebrate the start of month, to get into the "dark" spirit, I did something I've never done before:
I said goodbye to my light hair and dyed it black.

It took me about four hours to get accustomed to the new look... fighting back tears. I look crazy and mean. Whatever. I'll take diligent notes on other's treatment of me... see if this only increases my dislikable factor, or eases it.
Hooray for change.

Blondie

I was a super late bloomer when it came to many things:
1. Eyebrow tweezing.
2. Leg shaving.
3. Make-up application.
4. Dying of my hair.

Mom was... a total weirdo about it all. Guess that's what happens when a tomboy gives birth to girls.
Mom would tell me shit like "Oh, don't worry about the fuzz on your legs-- your pants will make them fall off on their own with all that friction. It did with me!"
Yeah, Mom, YOU... you're like... hardcore native american. You're pretty damn hairless.
HOWEVER, YOU married a hairy motherfucking Spaniard... The man turns pink in the sun, his hair is black as night... and it's ALL over the place! Get out of here!
I waited patiently all through middle school. I felt like such a boy, watching as my friends began transforming into pretty girls with their eyeshadow, lipstick, shaped eyebrows... HAIRLESS legs.

I BEGGED for a bit of normalcy... and it was slowly given to me. First the eyebrow tweezing at the start of 8th grade, followed by eyeshadow, eyeliner, and mascara permission, and FINALLY, HALF-WAY through 8th grade, I convinced Mom my goddamn hairy, stupid-Iberian legs were not going to "lose the hair on their own."

Mom was loosening her tomboy grip on me... and after hustling her for the majority of my life, at the end of 8th grade, the woman FINALLY let me dye my hair.

Considering how badly I wanted to change my hair color, I was drunk with power, and went crazy-- I got blond highlights.

Christ... I have photos of this horrible phase, but I WILL NOT share them. I am absolutely mortified each time I catch a glimpse of this embarrassing period in my life.
I was a brown girl... with HUGE, chunky, orange-hued highlights. I looked ridiculous.

I haven't gone blonde since then... it was a fucking bitch to remove the poorly bleached strands from my hair-- it was everywhere! It didn't help that my lame hair does this thing, where it lightens to a fucking EXTREME in the summer-- that wonky, idiotic-Iberian trait that rears its stupid head at the most inopportune times.

I also learned that I'm allergic to ammonia. It makes my nose bleed for HOURS. I'm not exaggerating-- I get lightheaded after a while of the bleeding. I turn into a fucking hemophiliac.
This sucks, but it did help get me out of a few chem labs that involved that atrocious chemical.

I hadn't played with ammonia in years, but today, my lovely aunt strong-armed me into dying her hair.
Seriously.
She came to my house and told me I was going to retouch her extravagant hair style...
By "extravagant," I mean "Did Dennis Rodman inspire you?" extravagant.

I tried letting her down gently... I brought up my ammonia allergy... I even told her I was tired... but she wouldn't budge. She even gave me a fucking face mask! The woman was ready.

I was lucky that I managed to convince Mom to help me. She took the color, I took the bleach.
We slaved away for half an hour... and the end result?

Holy shit... don't laugh!

Jesus... I feel terrible.
I swear that is exactly the way she wanted it.

Safe to say "Hair Stylist" is nowhere in my resume... nor will it EVER.
May God have mercy on us all...

PSA

ALWAYS remove any eye makeup before going to bed.
Failure to do so may result in unsightly redness (and sometimes excruciating pain) in the eye(s).

This Public Service Announcement was brought to you by:

Why the fuck is my eye burning at 7 in the morning... and why is my left eye so small?
Maybe it's Maybelline? Well, what else could it have been, Sherlock?!
and
Conjunctivitis, that shit don't play.

I feel stupid.

Eau de Gummi Bear

Don't ever let Little Sister go to the store to buy you body wash with the only instruction being "Just get me some of that Tone body wash... the one with sugar in it."

Yes, they make some body wash that has sugar in it... it serves as some sort of exfoliate (exfoliant?).
I actually love the stuff... it smells good... and it actually kind of scrubs without hurting you (unless you have an open wound... I found that out the hard way one time, and I actually screamed while in the shower... not a girly scream... but a pain scream as if a bear were gnawing off my leg).

Well, since I had no time to go to the store, Little Sister asked me what I needed, and I reminded her of the body wash.

She came home a couple of hours later and showed me her find.

Little Sister: Ok, so I know you use the green one... but this orange one smelled so good to me! and the name's pretty cool... I wanna see if it works. Tell me if it works.
Me: Cool... whatever... thanks.

Well, I ran out of the green body wash the other day and decided to use the orange one today.

Everything was fine and dandy until I began to apply the body wash.

What the fuck is that? Shit... it's... so... strong... but... must... continue... or... I'll be late...

Point being: I now smell like a gummy bear thanks to hopping in the shower last minute and not having any back up REAGULAR soap to wash up with.

Why do I smell like a gummy bear?
I checked out the bottle... and here's the 411:

Name of the product:
Tahitian Vanilla and Orchid (with 7 moisturizing botanicals)

Ok... 7 moisturizing botanicals... let's check those out:
The 7 moisturizing botanicals include: (they only list of 3 out of 7 with a short description of the 3)

Soybean: Nutrient rich and soothing.
Jojoba: Conditions and Moisturizes.
Marshmallow: Softens and soothes.

Marshmallow! Why do I feel like a s'more all of a sudden?

Had you ever heard of such a thing? Marshmallow in body wash? And it softens and soothes?
Well I'll be damned.
I'm sure it attracts an assload of mosquitoes, too.

Now when I turn to look over my shoulder, I'm confused by the sudden smell of candy... I swear it's the scent of fresh gummies (I imagine this is what the Gummiberry Juice smelled liked on that one Disney show, Gummi Bears, to tell you the truth).

Why hello there, bare... wonderful... sweet shoulder... I'm sure... it's ok if I... just lick you... a little... real quick... I'll stop... I swear... soon...

Man, who the hell invented this, and why doesn't it come with a warning?

Stencils

Ok, so I finally caved to the pressure.

What pressure, you ask?
The eyebrow pressure.

Yes. The eyebrow debate has been in full swing since... all that time ago that I mentioned it in here.

I never knew they were such a damn big deal.
I kept getting it from Mom and Little Sister.
"Damn, AnoMALIE! Your eyebrows are like they were back in sixth grade! No lie!"

Little Sister got hers threaded a couple of days ago... and she kept mentioning it... and how cheap it was.
After about three days of the same shit, I finally said "Fuck it, let's do it. But I swear, if they shrink my eyebrows I'm killing somebody."

So we went today.

I had places to be, places to see starting at 7 PM.
Thinking we'd be home on time, we arrived at the eyebrow place at exactly 4 PM (Little Sister said they took about 5 minutes to do).

I signed up for "Eyebrows only" with "no one in particular," and waited my turn.
I must have missed something on the outside of the door... because the place looked like a damn daycare center... with all these brats running around and only one tiny, well-behaved little boy trying to wrangle them all up.

So I sit and wait in the main room. As if the screaming, ill-behaved spawns of Satan weren't enough to piss me off, there where some bitches that kept staring at me. They'd stare at my phone and then start speaking Spanish as if I wouldn't understand their shit talking (Pendejas. And here I thought I had "El Nopal en la frente" aka I looked hardcore Mexican).

Keep hating, bitches, just because you'd have to prostitute yourselves for three years to get my phone doesn't mean you have to hate on a chick who doesn't resort to that shit. Get the fuck out of my face before I rip your damn bus passes, Hood Rats.

I sat there and listened to the girls talk about phones for ten minutes, because at 4:10 the guy who signed me in called me into a smaller room where two other girls were sitting, waiting their turn.

Sit here.
Wait a minute... I've heard about what really happens in this type of situation...

The man left in a hurry and left us girls directly in front of a 24-inch plasma-screen T.V.

Ok... at least I'll be entertained and away from the brats.

Just as that thought crossed my mind... they started playing a video.
What video?
Stewart Little 3: Call of the Wild.

I should have fucking known.

There was no sound... just subtitles.
Before I knew it, I was reading along... kind of... liking the movie... and getting pissed whenever anyone got in front of me.

I'm watching Stewart Fucking Little... get the hell out of the way, beast!

I took a couple of (kick)balls to the back of the head as I watched the movie.
Who was throwing the balls? The spawns, of course... trying to find an excuse to run into my room to watch Stewart Little.
Their dumb ass mothers where nowhere to be found to control the little boars... or read the subtitles for them... so the kids would immediately get annoyed and leave with their havoc-wreaking balls.

After a while... I noticed the number of kids was dwindling... the movie was getting intense... and us three girls were still waiting our turn.

What the hell? What time is it?

I looked at my watch and saw it was 5 PM.

Dilemma! I won't make it home on time to get ready if I stay longer... but I really want to watch the end of the movie! What do I do?!

I looked over at Little Sister, who was mouthing off words to me that I couldn't understand.
I knew she was getting anxious, because she leaves for work at 6 PM and we were probably 45 minutes away from home.

FINALLY, the lady who was going to work on our eyebrows showed up... gave some lame-ass excuse for being gone for an hour, and went to work on the first girl.

As Irresponsible Eyebrow Artist finished up on the first girl, Stewart Little 3 came to an end... one that I really couldn't understand because the end of the DVD was all scratched and the scenes would black out and freeze.

Way to kill the movie about a hiking rat with human parents and a Rastafarian skunk friend.

Irresponsible Eyebrow Artist was quick. At 5:05 it was the second girl's turn.

However, this girl was a horrible, horrible bitch.
She was very cranky... bossy... and pleasing her was impossible.
She barked orders at poor IEA until 5:40.
The bitch got her entire face threaded!

Look, Cousin It, IEA can't work miracles... and if I would have known you were going to get a brand new face, I would have asked nicely to go first and get my shit done in two minutes... then I would have given you my seat, probably even paid for your damn eyebrow job (fuck paying EVERYTHING you got worked on...).

I was out by 5:45, and we drove home as fast as possible.

Little Sister ended up being late for work, I ended up being late for my appointments, and I rushed through everything (much to my cousin's disappointment because I rushed through his 21st birthday party like "Yo, gotta go! No time! No time!" Poor boy. I'm such a bitch).
Now my eyebrows itch.

I think they look like eyebrows you see on hardcore metrosexual men. I don't like the... super straight lines. They look so unnatural to me... like I have stenciled-in eyebrows... I feel like a mannequin!

So there you have it... the new and improved AnoMALIE with her stenciled eyebrows that itch/burn like a UTI (not speaking from experience)... and make her look like a metro-man.

And to kill it, my family's still not happy!

*They should have given you more curvature here.
*They threaded your eyebrows? What is that? Like, painting them?
*You mean you paid someone to leave your eyebrows looking the same way they looked when you walked in?

I'm damn near close to just taking a razor to my brows and ending this whole drama.