Resting Bitch Face Syndrome

So one day when I was perusing the ole Facial Book (why do I still do it?  Although without…I wouldn’t have found out about this serious disorder, so FB is good for something), I found that someone had posted about something called “Resting Bitch Face.”


That’s why I’m so damn pretty…like Scarlet O’Hara. I practice resting bitch face on the daily. (BTW..don’t fuck with me…mothafucka!) hahaha.

Guys…for serious, this is a real thing!  I’m NOT FUCKING JOKING!!  I have this!  It’s a true disorder!  It’s when your face just looks like a bitch when it’s just sitting there normally.  I can remember when I was younger that people would often ask if I was upset or pissy but I wasn’t!  I had NO IDEA what they were talking about!  It wasn’t until later that I realized that my face looks bitchy!  She’s a bitch!  She will glare you into submission when I’m not even cranky or pissy.  She will bitch slap you even before I get angry.  It’s a REAL PROBLEM!!  It makes people hate me!

Photo of Victoria Sawyer in a field of flowers, looking...well...bitchy
Look at me suffer!!….See how I can be in a field of pretty flowers and still look mighty pissed off.  Don’t fuck with me flowers!!  I WILL DESTROY YOU!!  I am NOT AMUSED!!

For example at one of my part time jobs at a grocery store I was working in the front end for a few months when finally I decided to go into their customer service area.  The girls there DID NOT WANT ME because they thought I was a total bitch and it was all HER fault, my goddamned RESTING BITCH FACE!  She makes me look unapproachable and terrible and cranky!  I learned about all this judging of my bitch-face after the fact once I got to know the girls in the customer service area and they finally admitted that they thought I was a bitch, because when I’m not smiling, I do look like a certified card carrying rip-your-head-off, scream in yo’ face, slap you silly, judging you like crazy, totally better’n’you fuckin’ bitch. (BTW obviously after they got to know me (like after the FIRST time working with me, they learned that I’m the awesomest ever and also super sly sarcastic and kind of funny and cool.  Not to toot my own horn or nothing…)

So yes, it’s a real problem.  RBFS makes it really hard to make a good first impression if you’re just sitting there minding your own goddamned business.  Unless you forcably put on a damn smile, people will look at you and think…GOOD LORD LOOK AT THAT BITCH!!  She thinks she sooo cool.  She thinks she better than everyone.  She thinks she can glare at us.  BTW…I do have a killer glare.  I’m like Medusa, minus the snakes.  I used to shoot snake eyes at this guy I used to work with and he’d quake in his boots!  It’s a good thing I don’t post too many photos of my face on this here blog or else you’d be terrified and stop coming back because this blog would become known as that bitch-face-selfie-blog.  And who wants that?  With words I can paint whatever picture I want.  Bitch or no.  Although it seems that I do lean toward bitch much of the time…hmm…what am I learning here?  Is resting bitch face just  a reflection of what is on the inside?!!

Secondly, I have to thank FB for this too.  I totally want this T-shirt from the Big Lebowski.

This shirt would be such a lie for me…but I just love Walter…sooooo I want it. Plus…it’s the best “calm” shirt I’ve ever seen. It’s like telling people off. This matched with my bitch-face…wow! ZING!!

Let me just say here that Walter Sobchuk is a dope dope guy.  I love how he tells Donnie to Shut the Fuck Up constantly but then sometimes listens to him and then starts a conversation.  I like how he throws his “ringer” out the window of a moving car and says it’s his “whites.”  It’s just tooo good.  Nevermind fighting a stranger in the alps.  OH WALTER!!


It’s like a challenge, “Calmer than you!!”  and I love it when Walter says it to the Dude, because the Dude is freaking out!  Truth though is that I’m never calmer than anyone.  I’m usually fired up.  Although sometimes I’m tired and cranky so then maybe I’m calmer.  Maybe.  Maybe when I’m sleeping I’m calmer.

Also…RESTING BITCH FACE means I might be a real bitch!!  One day you’re gonna come to this blog and find that it’s just pictures of me sitting there sullenly glaring like a pro and you’ll run away because you’ll think I can reach right through your computer and slap your face off.  And maybe I can.  People in real life know not to mess with me when I’ve got my bitch face on.  You just leave the room.  Walk away.  Leave the bitch alone.  You don’t poke at the bitch, you don’t talk to her, you don’t try to ask her to do anything unless you want your head bitten off.

Also I know people don’t like the word Bitch, but I kind of like it. It’s got a nice ring.  I particularly like the -tch sound.  It’s just so hard and tee sounding.  It sounds kind of strong…kind of mean…kind of fucking serious. You don’t mess with a bitch.  You just don’t.  I kind of like owning it…like yeah…I’m a bitch!  I’m not soft and fuzzy and cuddly and girly.  I’m a fucking hardcore b-i-t-c-h.  I stand up for myself.  I’m strong.  I look like I can take care of myself.  You would NEVER offer to carry a Professional Resting Bitch Face’s luggage at the airport.  No way.  You’d be too afraid.  She can HURT YOU.  It’s either your feelings or you body.  You’d better WATCH IT!!

This post is really coming off rather bitchy of me, isn’t it?  I guess there’s no denying the truth.  If Angst (the blog) is anything at all, it’s a place where I come clean about the dirty truths in my life.  So I accept, not only do I have RBFS but I’m also just a bitch.  A nice one.


Studying the Male of the Species and Boy Eyes

Do you live with a man?  Do you know one?  Have you ever interacted with the male of the species?  You know…those ones that aren’t female?  Yeah, those guys.  You’ve seen them around, I’m sure.  They’re everywhere.  And yes, if you’re female,  you’ve probably been ogled by these so-called “males” of the species.  You know they’re there (with those EYES!), even if sometimes you forget.  Just FYI, their eyes are used for dastardly business all the time or are not used at all in epic FAILURES.  This is about one of those failures and not about the way they use their eyes for ill.

I’ve decided that since I am caged (live with) a male of the species, I am going to note their traits and write about them from time to time in a series aptly named, the male of the species.  I am going to STUDY my male of the species and write about the things he does or DOES not do.  I’m setting up an experiment.  I’m going to go scientific method on his ass (and he claims to adore the scientific method, so hopefully he’ll adore this too.  Who wouldn’t??).

So…the male…have you seen him?  Have you noted his traits and ways of being?  If you have noticed them around, doing their thang, you may have noticed a little something about them.  (and yes, this is INCREDIBLE stereotyping, and I’mma do it anyway!  YOU CAN’T STOP ME!!!)

What I want to write about today is what I lovingly call:  Boy Eyes. Have you noticed this flaw in their character?  Boy eyes are when a boy cannot find something for the LIFE OF HIM even when it’s right in front of his face.  Mr. VS suffers quite badly from this affliction (He needs help in the form of a 12 step program, except step 1 is always just asking me to find stuff for him.  and then he negates every other step.  $%^$!!).

So…every time he says he can’t find something (This STILL happens even though I’ve told him right where it is)…I say…”are you looking with boy eyes?” And you guessed right, he is always looking with boy eyes!

Mr. VS is like…. “Yesssss” in a guilty sort of frustrated voice.  Then I go…. “ARGGSSSSSS!!!”  (Much like an angry pirate)


And when the boy eyes are in full effect and he asks me for help…guess what? The item in question is RIGHT THERE.  Literally the item could jump out and bite Mr. VS on the nose and somehow he could not see it!  Heaven help me!

I’m serious.  Boys cannot find things.  They just can’t.  Nor do they seem to remember where they put things, EVER.  Or…well…most of the time.  The male of the species is silly.  Also how come a lot of other male species are all pretty and shit. WTH?  We got human males instead.  Where is the damn plumage?  Where are the bright colors? Where is the bright blue penis-like nose or the bright red ass or the big antlers?  Where is the strutting, promenading, fighting, feats of strength, singing and/or music making used to get us to mate with them?  Hmmmm…. No comment I guess… (If you know the male of the species you have probably come across their mating dance.  So I don’t need to reiterate that here.  Suffice to say…it needs work.  Question:  Are those other species putting the male of our species to shame??  Don’t answer that or our males will feel quite poorly. (HAAAA!!))

Mr. VS needs to work on those boy eyes of his as well.  Too bad it’s encoded in his DNA.  So he’ll claim he can’t help himself.  It’s like when he says he can’t “be trusted” to do grocery shopping.  The truth though is much darker.  He actually screws up grocery shopping on purpose so he’ll never be asked to do it again (usually by buying 12 cans of baked beans, 8 jars of pasta sauce, 12 cans of tuna etc. because he claims we need “staples” and I don’t buy enough).  THE GAMES!!  THE MALE OF THE SPECIES!! ARGGG!!!


Ummm…so….social media and blogging is actually kind of hard to keep up on.  Does anyone else hate posting to Facebook?  It’s like whenever you post there are crickets chirping loudly in the background.  NO ONE is there.  Or if they are, they are not hearing you despite your repeated screaming of the same shit again and again at the top of your lungs.  Keep screaming honey, no one is coming to rescue you.  There is no knight in shining armor!!  Bah.  It’s too bad because I get to hear all the bullshit over at my feed and don’t see a lot of posts from people I actually WANT to hear from.  I think that our migration patterns should change.  We should fly straight through Space Book and onward to something better, some kind of greener pastures.  Why hasn’t anyone invented these greener pastures yet?  GET ON IT!!

Secondly I’m trying to get better with Twitter.  I was doing it for a while but then gave up on it because I really only felt like taking the time to blog. However…Twitter is better because you can actually hear from people.  Like just random people will talk to you and that’s sweet.

I want to be more social (blog-wise) in my actual place-of-living.  But how the hell do you do that? I’ve seen a few social media groups around but I’m kind of afraid to just put myself out there and join one or show up to an event.  Here’s your moment of truth: Guys…I feel like a big fat (phat) fraud.  Have you ever felt that way?  It’s bad too because I had someone call me Amateur…so that doesn’t help with my feelings of fraudulence.

Let me explain what that means…it means you are doing something, like writing or social media, or trying to be like a “personality” or a “brand” or whatever (which is dumb cause I’m a  PERSON) when in fact you feel that you suck and are starring in a musical called Failure.  And you’ll ask yourself….How can I hand out business cards about my ludicrous, unprofessional truth-blog?  How can I say…I’m a serious writer and blogger when THIS blog is what people find when they search for me???  (GODDAMNIT…I love you Angst (don’t take this the WRONG WAY!!) I wouldn’t change a thing!  I’d marry you all over again!  Let’s renew our vows???!!  PUH-LEASE?)

For example:  I see all these people “in the real world” who have jobs as graphic designers or writers or social media marketers and then I feel…that I am truly at the bottom of the stack and being crushed by everyone who is sooo much better than me because someone actually believed in what they were doing enough to hire them and actually pay them real hard CASH-MONEY.  In Response, I feel that I am fake, trying to be something I clearly can never become.

BUTTT…my friend who is a photographer feels this same way and she’s good!  She has told me countless times to fake it until you make it.  This is harder when you keep trying to make it and people slap your ass down and tell you you’re an amateur. (People can be real assholes in the world, BTW, even those that you think should be supportive.  Talk about a real “community” feel.)

So…by “fake it, until you make it” you have to actual go out and say things like…I’M A BLOGGER!!  (not booger) or I’M A WRITER!!  or…I CAN DO SOME GRAPHIC DESIGN SORT OF STUFF THAT SUCKS.  Nope…noppppeee…that’s doing it wrong.  I’M A GRAPHIC DESIGNER…SUCK IT!!  And you have to keep saying it, and keep handing out those business cards and keep writing and blogging even if it’s the craziest most unorganized thing that anyone has ever seen, even if NO one even looks at your blog, because how else will you ever make it?

So…Yes, it might feel awfully fake for me to announce on twitter (in my profile) that I’m a writer and blogger and self-published author.  It might feel like a stretch (because clearly I have dubbed myself all these things)..but if I don’t start there where will I start?  And who, please tell me, will ever announce to the world that I am these things if I don’t?  Some dumb job?  Some job title?  Lame.  Lame.  Even with the title, you can still suck at what you claim you’re a professional at.  (I’ve seen this…fo’real)

Talk about a crisis of confidence.  Like how did anyone actually become what they claim they are?  Who gave them a diploma in whatever it is they claim to be good at?  In some cases, yes they have one (but how easy is it to get a degree if you PAY the money?), but in most cases, it’s some kind of self-declared thing.  And yes, even with that diploma you can still suck at what you claim you do (Yes, just saying you did such and such at your old job in an interview doesn’t mean you actually did it remotely well).  And even with that fancy title and lots of money, yes you can still suck at what you do.  Afterall the best way to get promoted:  Fuck up and move up.  Seems to happen in all kinds of companies.

The truth is that people get promoted, not because they are good at what they do, but because they are confident (and yes, FALSE confidence is a real thing and many people suffer from it).  And when people (hiring managers etc) see that someone is confident they take these subtle cues from them and therefore also feel confident about them and what they can do.  Guess what?  It’s all smoke and mirrors.  It’s all fucking bullshit!  The best person for the job, the one who is best at the tasks is usually the person who isn’t full of themselves, but they aren’t the ones getting the promotions.  Hence…competence and confidence can be two sides of a coin.  The confident are not always the most competent.  (How many people in well paid, supervisory roles are like this???  Have you seen it??! )

Umm…so I guess the moral of the story is that confidence is everything and you can actually get away with being the biggest fuck up ever and STILL get promoted (Just keep fucking up! You’ll make it!  Don’t give up now!).  However, how do you fake that shit if you don’t naturally feel that you are the best thing since sliced bread?   What if you don’t go around like an asshole feeling full of yourself all the time?  What if you have, gasp of shock, humility and/or doubts.  What if you’re like….a regular person and you don’t want to be special, you just want to get a job in the field you love, but all you see are the non-competent confident bastards getting ahead of you?

I'm starting my resume right now.  Here's the first sample...
I’m starting my resume right now. Here’s the first sample…

I guess what I’m going to do is just say how awesome I am.  There.  I’m this really awesome, unique, special, off the wall, caustic, hell-yeah, bitchy writer.  I do it for the LOVE OF THE GAME, Yo!!  I’m like a basketball player but without a professional team or cheerleaders or even a coach.  I’m on my own!  I just go out there and shoot those damn hoops!  I’m lay-ups and dunks all the fucking time!  I’m goddamned 7’3″!!  Boo-ya!!  (Keep faking that shit.  Keep going!!)

So…I’m taking an online class (Marketing, fucking professional)…and I’ll hopefully meet some people there and maybe I’ll get up the guts to attend one of these social media groups or conferences or something (Guts=confidence.  Must get guts).  I’ll bring my business cards and sell this old blog like she’s a diamond in the rough!  Polish off the shit and you’ll really see a writer with skills!  She breaks all the rules, yes and she appears nuts, but seriously, who else can bring that kind of whaaa-zam?  Who else can make you feel the way I do?!  Like someone stuck a damn needle in your eye?!!  (OMG!)  Who else can take so many random tangents and somehow make it sound sort of coherent?  Who can fucking tie shit together that has no chance of ever actually making sense…but yet…it does??!!  Who else has the GUTS to try something new, to be off the wall and full of madness?  Who else basically spills their blood on their blog by making fun of all their faults and failures and insecurities??  WAIT…

Victoria Sawyer = Faker

Now I’ve gotten derailed.  You know what…if being confident means not being honest…then fuck that shit!  I’d rather be authentic than fucking full of myself.  Because this blog has always been about honesty and I guess that’s more important to me than fucking polished perfect writing.  This is not a goddamned fake-I’m-trying-too-hard portfolio of my “professional” work.  It’s artwork, it’s personal, it’s ME.

Hmmm…how many time will I vacillate during this post?  How many times will I argue with myself about how I should fake being confident in order to “make it”?  Shit…I really prefer honesty.  I don’t like fake-shit.  I don’t like pretending to be something I’m not.  So yes…Amateur Hour has fucking arrived.  It’s goddamned amateur-o-clock!! But I’m the best goddamned amateur hour you’ll ever fucking see!!  That is…if you still have EYES after they’ve been exposed to my eye-melting, brain-farting (soiling) site.  THE DESIGN IS MELTING MY BRAIN!!!

Listen…guys…is this blog even remotely professional?  It’s writing…of course it is.  It’s like….words all lined up, jumbled together on a page.  That’s writing, right?  If you just throw words together, you are a writer.


Also if you put photos together with text in say Photoshop or InDesign, you might be a GRAPHIC DESIGNER.  (Just don’t declare it too widely unless you want someone to call you Amateur.  Gotta say though, Amateur Hour is dastardly fun.  There are NO rules mothafucka!)

If you sometimes post random shit to FB or Tweeter, YOU MIGHT BE INTO SOCIAL MEDIA.

Fucking labels.  (I guess this is a post with a high level of swearing.  I’m sort of fired up.)  Guess what, I’m going to SELF DECLARE right now that I am worthy.  I am a WRITER, the kind of writer I want to be.  I am a GRAPHIC DESIGNER, exactly how I want to be.  I AM INTO SOCIAL MEDIA and if people can’t recognize what I bring to the table, then fuck’em.

Victoria Sawyer = Writer, Graphic Designer, Social Media Enthusiast or Socialite

High Level of Swearing = Fired Up.

Fucking Labels.  Stupid fucking labels.   Stupid false-confident people.  Stupid business world.  Stupid.  Stupid.  Stupid.

Stupid Bullshit.

I can’t end this thing.







It’s over.

You can go now.

Bye…  ;)


The Super-Secret Secret to Corporate Success

Do you want to climb the corporate ladder?  It’s really less of a ladder because it’s not nearly as straight forward as a ladder, so maybe it’s most like a pick your own adventure?  Anyway, admit YOU want to navigate the chutes and ladders of corporate life?  Or most like the ladders and less of the chutes.  If this is true, you’re going to want to continue reading because I’m about to lay out exactly how YOU can climb the choose your own adventure corporate mountain andddd….you won’t even need hiking boots.  You can wear your slip on dress shoes!  That’s how easy it is.

And thus, I give you, the KEY to corporate success:

  • Screw Up, Move Up
  • Confidence will get you everything (even false or misplaced confidence) because eventually they’ll believe you are as capable as you say you are (more on this in another blog post)
  • Be pleasant, most of the time (except when you’re strongly opinionated and bitchy (arrogance is KEY!))
  • Keep telling everyone you’re ridiculously busy and they’ll believe you.  “Look how much Sarah gets done in a day!  She’s sooo busy!”  (She must be, she’s always complaining about it, right??)
  • Make sure your superiors think you are amazing.  Even if you have to make shit up!!

It’s all a bluffing game!  Part of me thinks it would be fun to thwart everyone by playing nasty at their own game.  But part of me shivers at the very idea of being false to get something or get ahead.  However being honest and nice has never gotten me anywhere!

What do you think?  Play the game or not?  Is this really how people get promoted in this world? Through deceit and game playing?  Or do these people do these things without even realizing they are doing it and thus become successful?!  Like the complainers and the falsely confident!  Is it a ploy or are they clueless???  I think perhaps it’s both!!

I’ll write more about confidence and getting ahead in a blog post soon!!  Stay tuned you false, evil, scraping, grasping, corporate ladder climbing, falsely confident, arrogant, extra busy, stressed out, complaining suck-up you!! HA!!

P.S. I totally pimped my blog and made it so overwhelming your head will reel!!  Drunkenly!  Spasmodically!  Careening like a fool down a hill on rollerskates!  OUT OF CONTROLLL!!!  It’s so busy, wild and colorful my eyes think we’ve done psychedelic drugs whenever I visit Angst Anarchy!!  I have to remind my eyes that we’ve done nothing of the sort…we’re just crazy.

Just FYI – Submarines

FYI – Submarines

Just an FYI that Mr. VS might have something to do with submarines existing in the world.  I just want to make that clear.  Also over the weekend while we were camping (more on that later) and were swimming in the lake, I climbed on Mr. VS’s back and said loudly…..DIVE DIVE DIVE!!!  AAAA—WOOOOOO—GAHHHH!!!! Just like he was a submarine.  Except I really didn’t want him to dive because then my face would have melted off and my hair would have been more of a disaster than it already was.

Ok….That is all.  Your daily, FYI.  Or TMI.  Or YOLO moment.  Brought to you by….Angst and the words…”craziest bitch ever” and by the US Navy and Submarines that lurk beneath the sea going bong….bong….bong….bong (that’s their sonar or some such shit like that).

Sanctioning Cat Fights: Bitey and the Gentleman

My husband claims that I am promoting cat fights.  And not just promoting, but organizing, advertising and preparing the combatants. He is wrong, of course.  I’m doing nothing of the sort, because animal fights are inhumane. (weird how human is a part of the word inhumane but it can apply to many species??  We are soooo conceited!!)

Anyway, the truth is that my goal was to get a friend for my long suffering Bitey.  Or actually, I hoped to relieve myself because Bitey is sooo bitey and rambunctious.  Everyone had been saying for months, BITEY NEEDS A FRIEND!!  So I was finally, like…fine, I’ll do it.  I’ll just go on down to the shelter and pick out a friend for my sweet evil little Bitey.  I was intent upon finding a girl cat, but alas the one who stole my heart was a boy tiger cat.  Opps.  So I brought him home.

First off, when I sent a picture of the new cat, Mr. Victoria Sawyer said that the cat looked cranky and he didn’t want him.  Ridic.  And also he claimed he had never really expressly said I could have another cat, but I did that shit anyway, cause that’s how marriage works.  Besides, I had been mentioning it as a desire for a few days and he had never forbade me…so clearly that’s permission.

As soon as I got home, Mr. Victoria Sawyer declared that he is the beast-namer in our house and he would name this new beast.  The cat’s name at the shelter was Chanel.  Really?  For a boy cat.  So obviously that had to go.

If you can picture it, it was sort of like the Lion King when Mr. VS named our new cat.  Or you can imagine it like a knight getting dubbed Sir So and So.  Mr. VS said, I dub this beast The Gentleman.

(That’s not actually his name, however for all intents and purposes of this blog post, that’s his name.  And subsequent blog posts.  Because obviously Bitey is not really my other cats name either.  Although you probably thought I really would name a cat Bitey.  What am I, crazy?  Don’t answer that.  Anyway….I can’t reveal the TRUE identity of my kittens because then all you bank account hackers would hack into my accounts once you got all this personal information from me.  Evil hackers!  I won’t tell you my passwords!  What am I, a dummy?  Would I really use my cats names as my passwords?  Isn’t that like numero uno on the list of things NOT to do?  hahaha. YOU’LL NEVER KNOWWW!!!  I love having secrets!! Just to annoy you hackers!!)

I digress, yet again.  You are so long suffering, Angst readers!  Now we have two cats:  Bitey and the Gentleman.  Once they were introduced to each other it was clear that Bitey was not happy.  He was very very hissy and growly.  The growl was particularly low and throaty sounding and he was also backing away post haste.  And at first The Gentleman was a true Gentleman and didn’t do a damn thing to Bitey. He just sat there and looked at him, like…really buddy?  really?  He was a true gentleman.  Also, when interacting with Mr. VS he actually jumped OVER the laptop keyboard instead of walking or laying directly on it as Bitey is wont to do and Mr. VS was impressed by his manners.

So…we’ve had the Gentleman for a few weeks now and there has been no progress on friend making between the two cats.  There are only occasional cat fights that I have apparently arranged to disrupt the peace and quiet of our household.  There is now STRESS where there was none.  So instead of getting Bitey a friend to play with, I have brought him an enemy combatant.

AND AND!!!  Come to find out The Gentleman had the kitten cough or kennel cough and so had to get on antibiotics.  This kitten upper respiratory infection was apparently making him more gentlemanly and docile because as soon as the antibiotics went to work, the Gentleman started getting attacky and chasey.  The Gentleman now believes that he is our one true cat and Bitey is an interloper on the scene who must be hunted down like prey.

Why, oh why?  Why have I done this to myself? I’ve caused strive!!  Why can’t CATS GET ALONG!!  Also, why can’t I speak to them?  It’s so frustrating that I can’t just say to Bitey, “Listen buddy, just give him hell one time and he’ll leave you alone!”  But no, I cannot communicate this message to Bitey and so he continues to run away and be scared and lets The Gentleman think he’s got the upper hand.  BAH!!

Literally, I can jump in a rosebush and come out smelling like…sh….!

It’s true.

Also a few words on the Gentleman.  He’s a dope cat.  He’s a super extra slut for love.  He loves love.  Also he’s very talkative.  Kind of like me.  He just walks around the house, meowing and meowing for no apparent reason except to get our attention or to annoy us or to get love and the funny this is that I do the EXACT same thing to MR. VS!  I never shut the fuck up!!  I am constantly babbling, particularly if Mr. VS is ignoring me….I will continue to just babble and babble and annoy him to the ends of the earth!  And he is really good at ignoring me which is when I have to use alternate tactics since he’s learned to tune out the sound of my annoying voice.

Another thing about cats and husbands is that they are similar because just as cats can get too over stimulated by too much petting, so too can husbands!  It’s like both groups can sense the INTENT of the touch.  Like sometimes my touches are filled with hate instead of love and when I say hate, I mean annoyance or teasing.  BOTH groups can tell!  Mr. VS gets very cranky when I keep touching him and bugging him to get his attention, so too do the cats get cranky when I keep petting them after they’ve had their fill.

The Gentleman has taken to opening his fanged mouth as wide as he can and slowly inserting a large portion of my flesh therein (which is different from Bitey’s lightning fast strikes of claws and teeth).  Then he clamps down, very gently, just to let me know he’s had enough.  Mr. VS declared the other day that he would start doing the same when I annoy him.  It’s like I really have THREE cats in the house.  And Mr. VS refuses to admit that he has cats.  He says, I have cats, meaning me and not him.  So yes, I have 3 cats.  All males.  And all mark their territory.  HAHAHA.

As you might remember from this post where I told you about annoying the shit out of my brother as a child, I still do that now to Mr. VS!!  It’s transferred and also I’m still the same person as I was as a child!!  I’m the worst!  I thrive on annoying people.  Like if Mr. VS is sitting there innocently intent upon his laptop (which he is ALWAYS doing) I will just keep blabbing to get his attention (because clearly all attention should always be on the star of everything, me) but Mr. VS is adept at continuing to look at the computer and not at me.  So then I have to sit next to him and rub his neck or his arm or his hair and just generally annoy him.  It’s sooo much fun.

Also it’s fun when I’m feeling WILD or on a sugar high, like full of energy, to touch him because he can tell that I’m like vibrating with pent up energy.  He can tell the touch is hateful even when I try to mask it with love and gentleness!! It’s like I need to work out or run around to get the energy out, but I of course lately refuse to do that because I’m a lazy sack of shit.  It’s especially fun to give Mr. VS touches full of hate when he’s tired or being a cranky pants.  Don’t you wish you were married to me?  The truth is that I am giving Mr. VS some serious life skills.  I’m coaching him to handle ANYTHING.  He could survive the Amazon now.  The jungle would be nothing to him.

I guess that’s enough about husbands and cats for one day.  I have to head down into the house to spend some time reffing a cat fight.  Busy busy!!  And also of course I have to fit some time in my day to annoy my cats.  All THREE of them. It’s where I get all my power for evil, from annoying them all!  BAHAHAHAHA!!

Also…post script…can these cats please stop?  Can’t we all be friends?  The strife within the house is TOO MUCH!!  I’m going to have to resort to DRASTIC measures.  And we know that I can’t take any cats back to the shelter, including Mr. VS.  That just wouldn’t do.  HELPPPP!!!

I Made Words: Anarchy!!

Anarchy, Anarchy, Government Grammar is evil!!!

I don’t know if you know, but I’m an English major with an actual BA (Bad Ass)degree in English.  Does that mean that I am certified to speak English you ask?  Don’t be an asshole!  (I am certified for that, BTW, but it’s not the only thing we English majors can do! So rude!) An English major means that I am certified by an actual university to MAKE or HANDLE (gently) dangerous words ( I have better clearance than people in a chemistry lab, this shiz is dangerous).  Yup.

Before we move on into more pressing matters, let me just ask you this….why does Bad Ass mean cool?  The two words separately mean very different things. Bad…could mean bad in a good or somehow sexy way (like Michael Jackson’s “Bad”  He wants to be sexy bad, not bad bad), which is weird since bad…is the word BAD and its connotations are well…BAD and NEGATIVE.

Ass…well…there are several meanings for that word, such as donkey or a person who is…well…annoying or not too bright or something like that.   Also it means your rear end. Truly, as you can see, my degree in English is a worthy one indeed, especially since this language we all speak, English, is fraught with danger, stupidity and pitfalls.  A true professional is necessary to think through these difficult topics.  Who better than moi?

Ok…so…how can two words mean so many different things and not only different things…but opposite things??  Like how is ASS cool??  Are donkeys cool?  Are assholes cool?   How is Bad…cool or awesome or good?  How is Badass….soooo damn badass?  I just don’t know.  Badass to me is like biker cool or leather cool or sexy or daring or daredevil or dangerous.

English is a bunk language.  It would be the most hated of all language’s children, if such a thing existed, because it’s the stupidest most confusing language ever.  And lucky me, I have a degree IN IT!!  How much more badass can I possibly be?  And you people thought English majors were a bunch of sissy-pants and book worms!!  Speaking of which…why does cool mean cool?  Cool is like…less than cold, but definitely not warm or hot.  I don’t get it.  I might need a second degree to fully understand this elusive thing we call English.

Ok, back to the task at hand.  I made words.  I did!  I feel like a child saying that I made potty or something like that.  That’s how proud I am of making words.  I want to scream:  COME LOOK, I MADE WORDS!!!  DON’T YOU DARE FLUSH!!  ARE YOU PROUD OF MEEEE???!!

So the way in which I made words is that for one thing, I got this site a real official fancy URL!!  WHOOP!!  I am now! How cool is that!?  How BADASS is it!!  So I did my usual little thing when naming something and got out the handy-dandy synonym finder and went to town finding words.  I love finding words!  There are so many with nuanced meanings!

Even now after I’ve thrown out my rumpled paper filled with chicken scratchings of word options I feel sad!  Bereft!  I am already missing all those cool words.  So…angst anarchy just sounded the best out of all the things I could come up with and all the URL’s that are actually available on the web.  It’s dumb because is being held by someone for ransom.  They want $40,000 for that URL.  WHAT!!!  What a crock of shit.  HAHAHA…that makes me laugh.  CROCK of shit.  Crocks usually hold things like butter, in the olden days.  But today I give you…CROCK OF SHIT!!  Anyway…I digress as I usually do.  Damn you and the person who is holding that lovely url for ransom and not even using it.  Lame.

In case you were curious, the reason I picked anarchy and not something else is that the meaning, when I looked it up, sort of struck me as appropriate.  Not the anti-Government meaning with a big G, but the small G meaning which is like…a place with no government.  A place where no one tells me what to do!  I can be disobedient, I can have no rules, I can be confused and disorderly!  I am totally anarchy.  Couple that with Angst, in all its glory and you really have something that describes this mad place!  Angst is dread, anxiety and for me, it’s lighter more sarcastic cousins that poke fun at angst and make light.  So…it all comes together….

So…after I made my new URL and got that shit finalized, I decided it was time for business cards.  I desperately want to expand this here blog and actually share it with more people!  So when I was making said cards, I decided to do a word collage on the backside that would describe what the hell I do here…and maybe describe me a bit too.  It was pretty fun making up all those words!  Well….in all honesty (I’m always honest with you guys even if I start out full of shit, give me some credit, jeesh) I didn’t actually “make” the words up.  I sort of discovered them.

Yeah…I was mining for words.  I am a word archaeologist.  Except these words aren’t really extinct or anything like that, nor are they part of the fossil record.  Their (this form of there means I think words are sentient beings) still in current use, they are…still alive, I guess.  So…I suppose I didn’t dig all that hard, only the very surface.  I am incredibly shallow.  Afterall I do write a blog all about ME.   Whatever, you guys are mean to me.  You never let me get away with my grandiosities.   (Also, despite my eloquent degreed status I can’t spell for shit, just FYI, it just appears I can because everyone helps me, like WordPress’ WYSIWYG.  I have crutches.)

(Speaking of, have you ever watched Bill Burr?  He’s pretty funny.  He has this one bit about his girlfriend where she says in a little girl voice…”Found something I like” while they’re at the store and she wants him to buy it.  So he says “So why don’t you fucking buy it?”  The way he says it just kills me.  The voices, everything.  Anyway…I got reminded of that above because I didn’t dig all that hard.  Weird connection.  Random…what a good word choice for me….)

Anyway….So now I give you….WORDS!!!

Collage of words

I think my favorite words in this minuscule (sorry) image are “online socialite” which I totally am.  Godsdammit, I’m sooo freaking high class online.  Like a high class hooker!!  Secondly I love punctuation abuser, because I am sooo guilty of that as you’ve probably noticed lately.  I’m telling you, this free speech shit will not stand with the powers that be for long!  Especially not free punctuation. Trust me…they want to take away your rights to punctuate however the hell you want!  ANARCHY!! RESIST!! And me….  I’ve broken all the rules of proper “English Major” decorum.  I am truly a badass English Major.  I’m off book, out in the wild, making up rules, playing hookie, rogue agent, breaking bad, just totally riding my steel steed (the pen).  HAHAHA.  I amuse myself to a high degree.

Next I also enjoy Word Obsessed and Boozy (because why not describe yourself as boozy if you can.  It just looks cool and blouzy and drunk and languid.  I love it).  Obviously I love saying I’m Caustic (like lye I will burn out your eyes, Goddamn!) and I’m erratic too. Totally all over the place!  And Melodramatic cause I’m a soap star or a star of the stage (Remember how I starred in Failure the Musical?).  And yes I am Absurd and a Hot Mess.  Words are awesome.  Look how I can describe myself with words that not only MEAN something, they also taste nice and skip off the tongue!

Business card, photo of girl with text AngstWelp, that’s about it.  I dug up a few words from the landfill of the interwebs, shook off the styrofoam crumbs and earth worms and yes the landfill gasses and then graphic designed said generous words together onto the backside of a business card about this here foolish website.  You know..I did miss a few….like Universeologist, or Existential meltdown-haver.  But I couldn’t fit anything else on there.  It was hard enough to cram that many words into such a small space.  The meanings alone take up SO much more space.  Especially with 6-10 meanings for each word (thank you English language).  I’d need GIGS to deal with that problem. At least with biz cards we’re only dealing in 2-D.  We don’t need no GIGS.  Or JIGGAWATS.  hahaha.  Oh Doc Brown.

And finally, in closing this absurd, zealous, angst bomb post (I dug the word list out of the trash just for you): English is a dumb crummy ludicrous language.  It’s pretty worthless, although also beautiful and descriptive, if you can figure out what the hell people are talking about.  That is all.  The great WordMaster has spoken.

Ahem…just want to point out how deftly I’ve handled a lot of dangerous words in this post.  I didn’t even wear protective eye wear or gloves or hearing protection.  I am super-word-woman.

Anxiety Percentages: From 0% to 10%

In completing my weekly reading for therapy with the book Get Out of Your Mind and Into Your Life, one thing has become abundantly clear to me.  Everyone, at some point or other experiences anxiety in their lives.  It’s part of the human experience and no one is immune. Some of us though, experience perhaps more anxiety or are more upset by the anxiety that we do experience which creates lots of suffering (and as we know…suffering is created by the mind, for the mind and it’s NOT real life, it only exists in the mind!)  Like, moi.  I have always seen anxiety as the evil enemy and have been willing to accept 0% anxiety in my life.  I have tried so hard to run away from panic and anxiety and have avoided so many different experiences because I would allow no anxiety in my life.   0% was the only amount I could live with.

When I met with my therapist last week, it dawned on me that the desire to live with 0% anxiety in my life is extremely abnormal!  I have been striving to be ABNORMAL for most of my life and I thought I was trying to achieve normalcy! However, the truth is that it’s weird, strange and inhuman to expect that anxiety will never touch my life.  It’s an impossible task that I’d set for myself.

So…the other day..I brought Bitey (AKA G. Cat) to the vet for his/her first check up.  My main goal was to find out if he/she (I say he/she because I was told Bitey was a girl when I first got him/her but then began to have doubts about this.  So… the sex of my cat will be revealed in this post, oh the scandal! Bitey will be so very embarrassed, but it’s not like I’m posting a photo of his/her nether regions) Anyway…I wanted to know…if he/she is healthy and of course find out the sex of my cat, purely for reasons of pronoun usage.  Knowing the sex of my cat wouldn’t really change anything, now would it? Still the same cat…just a new proper pronoun and we know how using the proper pronoun is extremely important to a writer.

I went home, loaded Bitey into his/her cage and we drove to the vet.  Unlike most cats I’ve known, Bitey didn’t make a peep in the car.  No yammering or yowling or loud crying or screeching.  Just some very very large wide eyes.  Once inside the vet with other loud animals in the waiting room it was more of the same.  Eventually they brought us into the exam room and then they took Bitey away to draw blood and determine sex.  That was when Bitey…got bitey and squirmy and growly and hissy.  My cat threw a hissy fit, basically.

When they brought Bitey back in, I was the proud parent of a….wait for it…wait for it….a BOY CAT!!!  Yup…Bitey finally had a pronoun and is a HIM and I now have to catch myself when I say she.  Now we’ve gone too far for the point of this post, which is that while they had Bitey out of the room and I was shut in by myself, I became the caged animal.

I didn’t pace, although I think I wanted to.  I sat there on the bench and started thinking all the horrible irrational thoughts of someone who refuses to accept any anxiety in her life.  No amount of anxiety would be appropriate or allowable.  I would goddamn not allow it!  Typically, if I think I’ll feel anxiety I’ll deploy my trusty avoidance skills or will beat myself up over the fact that I experienced anxiety and will allow it to ruin my experience of whatever it is I’m doing.

I have been fighting against these feelings for years…so it’s natural for me to start freaking out and worrying about getting anxious and then becoming anxious because I refuse to allow it (see the dichotomy there?  I get anxious because I refuse to get anxious!! “You will have whatever you refuse to have!”  SO TRUEE!!!).  So I sat there, thinking about how I wanted to leave the room, go running for the door, wondering what the Dr. would say when they came back with my cat and I wasn’t in the room?  Worried that I’d waste their time or they’d think I was strange for bolting, wondering where the closest bathroom was…and my stomach was in total knots.  All rational thought…fled my brain. I was a machine made for panic.

I said to my therapist at our next appointment after this incident that I guess I could have gone to the front desk and asked where the bathroom was and told them to inform the Dr. where I was….and he said, “Wait…that didn’t occur to you while you were sitting there?!”  And this, with disbelief in his voice.  I said…no.  I never thought it!  All thought had left my head.  There was no such thing as problem solving or rational clear-headed normal thought.  There was only frenzied panic and a feeling of sickness crashing over me.  Like Bitey…I wanted to bite something and I’m sure my eyes were huge.

And I knew…as I sat there that if the Dr. came back in, I would be fine.  I would talk with her about my cat, discuss his health and be distracted from my mind.  And that’s exactly what happened when she came back.  I was literally alone for a brief 10 minutes.  But in those 10 minutes, I was consumed by anxiety, busy trying to fight it off or get away from it, forgetting all my coping mechanisms and all the new things I’ve learned recently about how my mind works.

When I talked with Dr. Phil, my therapist, I told him that yes, I felt anxiety, but looking back on it, I realized that it didn’t ruin the experience.  And that in my reading, I learned that sometimes you do things for the experience or what you can get out of the experience and you don’t avoid it because you’re afraid.  I had a goal.  I wanted to take my cat to the vet and find out his sex and whether he was healthy and find out about getting him fixed, it was important to me…and so I had to accept some anxiety into my life in order to get what I wanted.

This is when the epiphany came to me.  Hello, avoiding all anxiety is pointless and impossible!  It’s WEIRD and NOT NORMAL to try to avoid all anxiety all the time and that’s what I’ve been doing for most of my life.  It’s not actually about how much you can stand which is what I always thought.  It’s not a challenge.  It’s not like…WUSSY…CAN YOU STAND THIS ANXIETY?!  CAN YA?  I DARE YA!!  It’s more about what you want out of life and whether you will let your anxiety hold you back from what you want.  And…the other truth is that avoidance is the main reason why my anxiety has been as bad as it has been.  Avoidance is the worst thing you can do because it builds upon itself until many things are outside your grasp.  And then more and more of what you want gets swallowed by your anxiety, until you can’t go anywhere anymore or do the things you love.  That is not an acceptable way to live.  However, more avoidance is not the way to fix it because it just creates more unhappiness that you are missing out on your life.

I’m not saying by any means that I have completely embraced anxiety in my life, but I am saying that I’m working on it.  I have a life I want to live and things I want to do and if anxiety tries to stand in my way, it better damn well watch it! Engarde Anxiety!!  Let us duel to the death!!  Cause god dammit, I’m going to start being normal right now!  I will accept 10% anxiety in my life!  Anxiety cannot make a cuckold out of me!  Big spender is getting wild with the anxiety cash!!!  Watch out world…I’m gonna finally accept some anxiety into my life!  No ONE CAN STOP ME NOWWW!!!  I’m UNSTOPPABLE!!

Oh God, I feel a little nervous.  RUN AWAY!!!  hahaha…just kidding.


Ahhh!!! Realization: I’m a Sci-Fi Nerd!!!

Oh God, oh God, oh God.  Oh GOD!!!!


Ok, take a deep breath, everything’s gonna be alright. Hee…heee…heee…head between knees…deep breathing….

gasp….can’t breathe…heart pounding with terrible truth!!!

It’s okay, calm, soothe, calm, soothe.  Serenity Nowwwww!!

Haaa!!  It’s funny when you go through life without noticing a certain pattern and then suddenly that pattern makes itself apparent and you realize a stunning truth that changes your self perception.  You, by god, are a Sci-Fi loving Nerd!!!  WHAT!!!!  ME????  I thought I was cool and awesome!!  HOW DID THIS HAPPEN??? The inner world of my self-perception is CRUMBLING AWAY LIKE DUST IN THE WIND!! (Did you know we’re all dust in the wind?  Kansas told me so.  Not the state.  Your ignorance is hurting me inside my heart!)

I never thought in the days of yesteryear when I was forced to watch Star Trek, the Next Generation (or the original because we had trouble with tribbles) with my dad (because he loves that stuff) that I would someday watch similar shows and ENJOY it!!!  I shunned those shows then and now I have become my father!!  NO!!!! Soooo geeky!!!(Love you dad!)

But it’s true.  I have been watching an awful lot of Sci-Fi lately!!  Here’s a list of shows/movies that I adore:

Battlestar Gallatica
Warehouse 13
Lost (Does this count?)
Star Wars (duh)
Back to the Future (again, duh, I’m a child of the 80′s!)
Terra Nova

I also used to adore watching Space Camp!  Who remembers this movie?  I was obsessed with it after we went to Cape Canaveral when I was young and watched a space shuttle launch.  OBSESSED.  That little robot thingy was sooo cute!  HAA!!  And the ANXIETY that movie creates, WHOA.  WILL THEY RETURN TO EARTH IN ONE PIECE??? AHH!!!!  And of course it was VHS.  Advanced technology!

So what is it about Sci-Fi (Fy) that appeals to my little mind?

I think it’s that Sci-fi shows can knock your socks off with plot twists and the sky is really the limit as far as these twists are concerned (how appropriate).  And these twists are not just Don Draper philandered again! and BTW…he LIVES FOR, LOVES philandering. Or purely, life as we know it twists where SVU figures out another sexual assault case.  Sci-fi features….universe-level plot twists. Twists that shake the very foundation or your BEING, of your actual existence!  Twists that make you think and wonder and imagine.  Twists that try to answer questions about things that we know nothing about.  We are…did you know…living in a scary huge wonderful terrifying “I may have soiled the carpet I’m so scared” mystery!!  IT’s TRUE!!  WHY THE FUCK ARE WE HERE??!!!  WHAT ARE WE DOING?!!

Like Fringe.  That show kept reinventing itself all the time and looking at things from different angles and adding little nuances and big WHOA moments that twisted your head all up in wonder!  It’s INSANE!!.  Plus, while Sci-Fi is weird and wild and out there and spacey (which I love, and I do mean…SPACE THE FINAL FRONTIER) it’s also got the same kind of “human” stuff that regular sitcoms and “life” shows have.  They have…love stories, religion (Gods DAMMIT!!  How I love General Tigh from Battlestar), human drama, but also the really big questions.  Why are we here?  What the hell is this place?  How do we make sense of our world?  What else is out there in the universe?  What if?  WHAT IF????!!  WHAT IF THERE’S AN ALTERNATE REALITY?  What if we had to populate another world?  What if we create life-like robots that try to murder us all? EEEKK!!!! Or how about we travel through time or other dimensions?  WHAT THE HELL IF???!!!  BT-dubs, there’s definitely another version of me out there writing really good, palatable, nice blog posts.  She’s the true winner, she’s the hot one.  I hate her.

(I’m realizing that all my blog posts are really about how my mind has been blown by something.  That’s it.  Whenever I’m either stunned silly (much like a tazed miscreant with a verbocity that scrambles the mind) or ranting mad, I write a blog post. Aren’t you thrilled and googly-eyed amazed by how often my mind gets excited and soils itself?  It does seem to be more frequent than is healthy.)

What’s weird is that I don’t read Sci-Fi books.  I’m not really sure why.  Probably because I wouldn’t know where to start (this is a cry for help…make suggestions!!!).  Although I have read Ender’s Game and 2001:  A Space Odyssey. Most of my reading pleasure comes from historical fiction.  So I’m well versed in the “supposed” future of Sci-Fi on TV and the past through fictionalized history (because obviously I don’t give a damn about the present).  I’m immersed in worlds that ARE NOT REAL!!  I’m living in a fantasy world!!  However since all the mysteries of this world have yet to be figured out, I’m probably doing okay.  The imagination is the limit!  The limit is the imagination!  WHATEVER!!!  IT COULD ALL BE TRUE!!!  My mind is experiencing a BIG BANG!!!  It’s expanding into the dark matter between my ears!  Weeeee!!!

And thus, I have realized something about myself, at the grand old age of 31.  (See kiddies, we’re always learning even when we’re mildly old or aged, like cheese (and sometimes that learning about self, seems negative… but in the end is actually pretty cool, even though your high school classmates would tease you for it, those assholes!)).

See, I’ll say it now….I am truly a sci-fi nerd.  I love that shit.  I will get immersed in it, I will think about it for days, I will wonder why we’re here and what we’re doing and how we got here and if we’ll still be around in a million years.  I want to know ALL THE DAMN ANSWERS!!  That’s my impatience coming out and Sci-fi gives me something fanciful and interesting to imagine.  A way to solve those existential puzzles that plague my mind.  I love that!  I guess I’d be bored if I had all the answers.  Maybe God doesn’t want us to be bored?

It makes me imagine that we’re like God’s pets and he keeps us entertained with all kinds of mysteries.  It’s like when I leave my cat at home all day and he needs stimulation or he’ll get bored or depressed.  So I give him cat nip, toys to play with, a scratching post, food to amuse him, etc.  And our benevolent but physically absent owner gave us beer and mysteries to keep us entertained.  He wouldn’t want us soiling the house due to anxiety.  (Too late!)

Existential Mysteries = dangling cat toy filled with nip.  God is yanking that toy around and we’re mesmerized!!  More BEER!!!

And FYI…when God gets home, I’m fully prepared to release all the excess energy I’ve been storing up all day, much like my cat who careens around the house like a madman.  PAY ATTENTION TO ME!!!  GIVE ME LOVE!!  GIVE ME FOOD!!  PLAY WITH ME!!! God has it coming!!

So there’s my pitch.  Go watch all those shows on Netflixs as soon as possible.  Also I should be tried, found guilty and jailed for life because of how badly I’ve abused CAPS and exclamation points and question marks in this post (basically an overload of punctuation because I also abused these bad boys ()).  These are also frequent happenings in my life.  Abuse of things to an extent that is unhealthy.  Health, apparently, is a low use of exclamation points (low-dose and/or no-use because they are like gateway drugs to even more punctuation, as you can see in this post) and keeping excitement (CAPS-style excitement) to a minimum.  We must stay calm, or we’ll soil God’s house because of our separation anxiety and boredom.  WAIT…didn’t we already soil?  This HOUSE IS SOILED!!!  So go live inside your TV, it’s nice and clean in there!!



The Power of Makeup (I Wield the Powah of the Brush!!)

This post is for all of you out there who double dip yourselves in Maybelline every single day.  I say to thee, this is for ye…with the bad skin, breakouts, spots, splotchy skin, bags under your eyes, wrinkles, age spots, etc.  I feel your pain and we shall commiserate together.

Makeup is crazy.  It really is.  If you think about it, if we all stopped wearing makeup, like say if it suddenly became unavailable (WORLD WIDE PANIC!! The end is NEAR!!), we’d all look hideous and grotesque.  But in the old days, everyone must have looked hideous all the time, so people were used to it.  For most of the population it was normal for people to never wear makeup.  So those people always showed their real faces.

Me, I never (hardly ever) show my real face to the world.  I’ve got that shit slathered on every day.  It’s nice cause it hides all the skin discoloration, the spots, etc.  So my skin looks more smooth, also of course it enhances parts of my face which is nice too.  Bigger eyes, brighter cheeks, I can look more tan or more pale, whatever I choose.  Plus it’s kind of fun in a way.  I treat it like art.  I’m like an artist with a canvas, painting a pretty face on top of my other….dreadfully real face.  I’ve got to cover up the horror mask with pretty colors so you’ll be deceived into thinking that nature has blessed me (which is HASN’T! I am accursed!)!!

Now…truthfully, I wouldn’t say I’m hideous without makeup…but my skin def leaves something to be desired! (Like…consistency)  I feel like makeup somewhat levels the playing field for those of us with bad skin.  We can start to look somewhat normal and not like red blotchy weirdos.  So that’s nice.  It’s a good thing I didn’t grow up in the olden times.  Although everyone else probably looked pretty rough as well.  No orthodontia!  No make-up!  No plastic surgery or fake boobs! No hair dye!  It’s also weird how in the olden days people’s hair went grey and you would see a lot of grey haired people, but now it seems like most people dye their hair, so it’s harder to tell age from a glance.

Anyway, the other day I was looking at photos online of the Power of Makeup and it was insane. People that looked normal suddenly looked glamorous.  Or people that looked bad, suddenly looked good.  All of us though are going around with this shit on our faces and some of us don’t feel normal unless we’ve got it on.  That is pretty sad.  However at the same time….I can’t compete with people with normal skin!  There are some people who look just fine without makeup and I ain’t one of them. (Vanity ALERT!!!  SOUND THE ALARM!! AAA…WOOOO…GAHHHH!!!)

Also, the other day I had the opportunity to put my face in one of those booths that will tell you if you’ve got skin damage and voila….I didn’t have much!  Apparently covering my skin all these years has had some benefits and now that I’m using less harmful mineral make up, I’m probably doing okay and can indulge in my less red skin.  I can look more glamorous.

The trouble is that it’s difficult to maintain the illusion of beauty or of looking a certain way.  I know I’ve seen colleagues on their day off with no make up on and they look different!  They look tired, strung out, hung over etc!  But it’s just their REGULAR face!!  How sad is that?  Are we pathetic??? When these people come to work, they’ve polished themselves with make up until they are shiny and new and healthy and well rested, like the skin of a brand new baby!  It’s like mandatory that you put on the happy “I love my job” face for work.  (You do want a promotion, don’t you??  HAAA)  It’s such a huge RUSE!! We are SO FAKE and FRAUDULENT!

And it’s difficult to be sure that you always have it on and never show that real unsightly repugnant face underneath! Like if your mother-in-law does a pop-over and catches you before you’ve showered.  You’ll go right into a frenzy!  You cannot have people viewing the real you!  You’ve spent years concocting this fake hawt version of yourself.  By God, you will not let all that work come crashing down on your mottled discolored head now!  You MUST run and hide and commence with the slathering!! AHH!

The other weird thing though, is that guys (or love interests in general) probably get used to seeing us with our makeup on and so think we look a certain way.  They may think you are a 9, when really you are a 7! HOW DARE YOU!!  But…beware the day you take it off!  AHH!!  There are times at home when I don’t have makeup  on and my husband never comments or seems to notice (How can he not notice?  Really??).  So that’s pretty nice of him.  In many ways, Mr. Victoria Sawyer is no gentleman…but in that way he is.  Or he’s just oblivious.  Or he never looks at me. Either way, it keeps me happy. HA!!

So I say to you, indulge in your slathering of make up and you’ll probably have less skin cancer.  Also it’s okay to hate on people with nice skin because they are assholes.  (!!) haha.  They don’t understand your trauma and compulsive need to make your skin appear to be clear and smooth and one color because nature or god or the god of genetics or something gave them perfect skin.  They don’t understand waking up with a face full of spots because your hormones had a party in bed the night before.  An ORGY of hormones!  Their hormones NEVER engage in such reckless behavior WITHOUT protection.  So when you wake up with sores and pustuals, they wake up with a clear conscience and beautiful skin.  God I hate them!! So…you gotta ignore them, shun them, be jealous.  But keep putting on that makeup to trick the bastards!  Plus it’s a kindness to the world, it really is!  Also avoid the rain, because you may melt your face off and everyone will be scared because you look like the wicked witch underneath.

Some people are brave enough to post a no-make up selfie.  Those people also should be shunned and made to feel like outcasts.  Me…I’m terrified of posting a no makeup selfie.  COWARD!!  Because I fear after viewing the shot, I’d be forced to abuse photoshop in way that would feel evil, untruthful and criminal (in a scary evil witch sort of way), much like Cruella Deville and her coat of puppies.  Just WRONG how’d I misuse poor old photoshop!  My cowardice and vanity knows no boundaries.  I may show you myself in words, but not in pictures!

My words of wisdom astound even me.  I’m so amazing, it hurts.  But you can’t tell because I’ve got my makeup on, which means that I have a very nice “resting bitch face” on right now.  I paint that bitch face on every day and then I work very hard to represent.


Now enjoy some Power of Makeup photos!  HERE!!

Gawd, what a freaking shallow post.  I win an award for shallowest post of the day on WordPress.  Where is my crown?  And free make up supplies to test?  GET ON THAT!! STAT!!  I have an addiction to feed you lousy….I mean…nice people.

P.S. It must be really boring to be a boy and not get to play with makeup.  Sad Face for boys.  Then again, they don’t have to play pretend all day long either by making sure their face hasn’t slipped off.  Lucky bastards.


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