Blogtopia! It's so good to see you! Look how you've grown! Come here and let me pinch your face and slobber all over you, dahling, for I have returned.
That was me being a washed-up diva (possibly in a glitzy turban, stirring a martini with a diamond stirrer and picking bonbons out of a heart-shaped tray a la Joan Collins or Gloria Swanson in Sunset Boulevard, because I AM big, it's the blogs that got small ) and announcing my somewhat delayed return after a little hiatus where I was suffering from a) having lots of work to do, b) blowing off my work to go enjoy the end of the school year, and c) writer's block. I don't want to be the absent Deadbeat Dad of bloggers, but I can't help it at this time of year, I'm terribly afflicted with flakiness right about now (when aren't I?)
So to make it up to you...I'm going to do a totally random post about the things I like!
It was supposed to just be a post where I took pictures of my favorite cosmetics, but it degenerated into a big steamy-hot bubbling crock pot o'insanity. Hope you all enjoy!
These are my blue Seychelles shoes. I don't know if you can tell how lovely they are in the picture, but I absolutely adore them. I wore them to my graduation ceremony with a pretty pale-gray-and-navy Victorian-style dress (which sounds dull, but I think it looked pretty nice), and then because they were so comfy I stupidly thought I could walk through the park in them, shouldering a bookbag. My rationale was, if French women walk everywhere in heels and are drop-dead-gorgeous knockouts, why can't I? My rationale was proved to be very wrong, in the form of about sixty blisters.

This is my Benefit Realness Of Concealness concealer case. It is the single greatest cosmetic I own. I'm one of those girls who is very easily swayed by pretty things (you know that Greek myth- wait, was it Greek? Was it a myth? Oh I don't know, ask me later- about how the woman who was running the race and then the gods dropped golden apples in her path and she got distracted and lost? Hideously antifeminist and insulting, but I completely identify with her. They're GOLDEN APPLES. If nothing else, they'd probably make a nice chunk of change on eBay.), so naturally I am in mad passionate love with all Benefit cosmetics, as their packaging is so blatantly adorable that I find myself buying things I don't need, or even particularly want, just because it's so pretty. However, this concealer is not just attractive but functional- it works very, very well. And look at the ironic-cute polka dots! No, really, look. Are you looking?

This is the Regina Spektor CD my friend kindly lent me when I was whining about how high my iTunes bill is, so that I could transfer the songs onto my playlist. Needless to say, I am deliriously happy and considering nominating said friend for sainthood.

This is the rubber duck which lives in my bathroom. He wasn't so happy about posing for my blog, so in exchange I had to promise to stop singing in the shower. Apparently not even plastic toys enjoy my rendition of "Sexyback".

You can't really tell, but this is the cover of The Virgin Suicides, which I am currently reading and loving. I haven't seen the movie yet (something of an anomaly for me, reading a book without seeing the movie first...I'm really bad about that. I'm also a total spoiler whore, but ONLY WHEN I WANT TO HEAR THE SPOILERS AND SPECIFICALLY REQUEST/RESEARCH THEM. I missed the last episode of the second season of Grey's last year, back when it was still good, and when my friend told me what happened I cried and hit him for about six hours, which he just laughed at, and then gave him the silent treatment, which I do not recommend as a good method of showing your guy friends your fury because it doesn't work on them) but I will when I finish.

This is my Palladio rice paper, inherited(cough-stolen-from-her-makeup-bag-cough) from my aunt. I'm not sure it actually does anything, but I like it anyway. And it makes me look like less of a shiny oaf on my shiny-oaf days. By the way, if anybody has incredibly good vision and spies that the little geisha lady has half a mustache drawn on her- 'twasn't me, my friend drew it with a thin-line Sharpie once when I was in the shower, then got bored and didn't bother finishing. Nice.

This is my Smith's Rosebud Salve. Addictive. Pretty much the caffeine of lip balms in that respect. Also, it's not too glossy, which is good because I don't like lip gloss except for my sheer red Neutrogena stuff which makes my lips tingle. I used to practically cake lip gloss on, but now I think mostly I just looked like a sad girl with too much lip gloss on.

These are a container of Dean & Deluca "Springtime" cookies in interesting shapes which I am currently devouring. They were a party favor from my friend's swank end-of-the-year thing. They're kind of difficult to eat, but mmm. Icing and unrefined white flour and butter and sugar, oh my!

These are some cookies from the aforementioned container of cookies. Cute as the proverbial button, right? Small iced adorable things just make me happy. Especially when they're shaped like butterflies and daisies and tulips. I'm actually pretty easy to please. You know, just the simple things- some cute cookies, a bright summer's day, and lifelong omnipotence. The usual.
But really, don't you just want to smile at these cookies? How could you not, you cruel and soulless shrews? Sorry, I'm passionate about the things I love (especially the sugar-iced ones made in ovens).

This is my patterned scarf which I got from a vintage store in Cambridge for $5 some time ago. I love it. It has become my "mostly companion", as Eloise would say. Well, obviously not literally- it's not as if I go around whispering to my scarf like a crazy scarf lady. Are there crazy scarf ladies? Surely there must be. Are they like cat ladies, but with scarves? Anyway, what I meant was that in the terms of wearing-it-constantly (usually as a belt or headband or tied to my bag, not as wrist-bow, but I needed a way to display it for all its glory), it is faithfully by my side. Also, you have no idea how often a silk scarf comes in handy, for anything from holding together the fragmented pieces of a broken-strapped bag or instantly belting a fug shapeless top.

This is the best eyeliner in the whole world (Benefit, naturally). Eye makeup can be tricky- what's that little ditty our mothers and grandmothers used to recite to us and sew into samplers? "If you wear too much of it, you will look like a bowling-alley prostitute and never find love." Ah, wise words indeed. But in all seriousness, this stuff is the perfect balance between being a cosmetic-free little Quaker girl (do Quakers wear makeup? Maybe they do, I don't know. I was just thinking of them as very fresh-faced and pure, but I could be wrong, maybe underneath it all they're wild lascivious succubi or something) and propositioning sailors. Also, it doesn't give you what my friend and I have termed ACS (Alice Cooper Syndrome)-i.e. it doesn't make you look like you were just taken to a goth makeup artist who did your eyes and then punched you.
This is my Franz Kafka button, which I got at the Kafka Museum. He doesn't look so happy to be making a guest appearance on this blog, does he? Why so sad, Kafka?
This is...well, it's undefinable. They are shoes. They are definitely shoes. And before you start, I WOULD NEVER WEAR THEM OUTSIDE. Not even on Halloween, because I generally don't like being mistaken for a lady of the night (that's a polite term for "giant hooker", by the way), and also, geez. Those heels are no joke, and let me just say if that's what strippers have to contend with, it's possible that society might be a little bit too hard on them. But aren't they hilarious and awesome? They were actually gifted to my mother as a joke present, but I loved them so much I gave them a home on display in my bedroom. And in case you were wondering, yes, those are tiny goldfish down there in the heels. You're speechless, right? Because I kind of am every time I look at them.

This is my Clinique gel blush. I already talked about my little lip-gloss-is-Satan-spelled-backwards breakthrough, but after that happened I realized I couldn't just go around bare-lipped- I am not gifted with the ability to look great without makeup (I don't like to slather my face in paint, it makes me feel itchy and prostitute-like, and to quote my friend Matt when I asked him this past summer about the subject of girls wearing a lot of makeup- "It's really freaky when you touch a girl's face and you come away with half of her cheek." Well said. Kind of gross, but also poetic, I think- but I am not about to pull a "Ooh, yes, I just roll out of bed and take the cucumber slices off my eyes and go about my day, all the while stopping to spoon-feed broth to orphans and let the homeless bask in my glow of natural beauty" thing. ) . This stuff gives me, the palest girl of all the pale girls in Pale City, a nice cheek-and-lip color, sort of Renaissance-y and pretty.
This is my chunky silver vintage cuff, which makes me feel kind of bad-ass and Wonder-Woman-esque at the same time.
This is my Metrocard. Oh, the places I'll go with my little slice of metropolis. Uptown, downtown, the city is mine! Until I need to renew it. Or lose it, which, to be honest, could happen at any moment now.

This is my Las Vegas key chain, which is not only resplendently tacky but also practical- it doubles as a pen! Hey, I never pretended to have taste. It could be worse. At least it's not neon. Oh God, I wish it were neon. Maybe the letters could blink on and off...Dare to dream.

THE MUSIC & TV CORNER- Hear that sound? That's me hopping on the bandwagon re. Amy Winehouse. I used to sort of dislike her, and think she looked like the slutty waitress in a Greek restaurant, but I am thoroughly addicted to her now. Rehab and You Know I'm No Good are great, but I think my favorite is Pumps, a sarcastic ode to skanky footballers' wife-wannabes which makes me laugh and dance a little bit in my seat when nobody is looking. It's not available on iTunes, though, most likely because of all the F-bombs she drops. Stupid censorship. The Man is at work again. TV-wise, everything is gone, gone, goooone...Lost, 30 Rock, Scrubs, ANTM, Ugly Betty, my soooooul...only joking, it's not like I'm THAT obsessed with TV. Probably. Hush. Anyway, I guess I'll give this miniseries with Debra Mess (too easy? Meh, still fun) a try. Le sigh. Hurry back, television of yore. I'll miss you over the summer, but probably not that much, because it's SUMMER! Still, though.

SIGHTINGS- Ooh, this girl outside my school was wearing the most fantastic white really soft-looking cotton sundress with mint green shiny wedge heels, which might be a bit Summer 2006 but are still pretty cute in my opinion, and...this is the only part of the outfit I didn't like- a lime-and-pink, clearly J.Crew ultra-preppy headband. Oye. But other than that it was so cute. And I am suddenly finding myself to be in love with this guy who attends my gym. And I might sort of be stalking him. Well, I've been noticing that our workouts overlap a lot lately, and let's just say it's maybe not a coincidence. I've only seen him twice though, but I made a point of coming back the second time the exact same time I was there when I first saw him, and there he was in a red T-shirt over washboard abs and a pair of board shorts that were surprisingly tolerable (usually I hate when guys in NYC wear board shorts, it looks pathetic), doing that thing where you press the thing with your leg or lift the thing with your muscle (I don't know gym terminology. So sue me.) Oh, and why are old ladies so unwittingly stylish? An elderly woman on my block was wearing fantastic round-toe pumps that I coveted. Unfortunately, though, she paired them with support hose and a scowl. Yes, I am jealous of old peoples' footwear. WHAT?

CURRENT ATTIRE- Oh my God, my feet have been through hell lately, I've been walking in heels, dancing a lot at assorted end-of-year-parties, and going to the gym both to tone up and hopefully see Hot Gym Dude. So since I'm on virtual house arrest this long weekend for a final exams-review session, I'm using the opportunity for foot therapy. My monkey socks are not coming off ALL WEEKEND. I'm wearing those, a pair of baby blue shorts which I am pretty sure are the dreaded Soffes I used to wear obsessively before I realized I was not in fact a gymnast or a perky cheerleader and had no need for athletic baby-shorts (I think that was around the same time I was slathering myself in Ultra-Sexy Shine On Glossy-Rave Party Girl Glossage, or whatever my tweenybopper Wet&Wild lip gloss was called). Still, they're comfortable, and with them I'm wearing a T-shirt that my crafty and remarkably leftist friend Katie made for me for my birthday reading simply "BUSHISMS" and then has three Bushisms written on it- "Make no mistake about it, I understand how tough it is, sir. I talk to families who die.", "Those who enter the country illegally violate the law.", and "People say, how can I help on this war against terror? How can I fight evil? You can do so by mentoring a child; by going into a shut-in's house and say I love you." It is, I must say, a fairly perfect and amusing shirt, and almost as much of a conversation piece as my hooker heels with the goldfish, which live on top of my magazine box and are commented on by nearly everyone who enters my bedroom. Anyway, I'm also wearing my silky patterned scarf as a headband, and oh my God I just realized how skanky my hair is. Off I go to shower off the day's injustices!

Peace <3