Show Me Your Raging Love!

A commenter has brought it to my attention that I now have 4.7 readers rather than 3.7. Awesome! Because I want to be conscious of just how mindblowingly popular I'm really getting, I have created two new ways to get in touch with me. One is a new email address where you may send all of your fashion related questions: cultoftheblacksweater@gmail.com. You can also now click on the Myspace link below and go directly to my profile, where you can ask me to be your friend. Do that. I want more friends. I would also like to know if my 4.7 readers are people I might soon see on To Catch a Predator. To make it even easier, here's that link now: Morgan's profile.

Have a good day, my little truffles. I have to tutor today, but I'll be back tomorrow (hopefully) with a couple of product reviews (recent trip to MAC!) and more of the fashion stuff you've grown to love. Admit it: you love it a little. Just a little? Just an eensy weensy bit?

An Open Letter to Old Navy from Morgan's Ass

Dear Old Navy,

I know you probably don't get many letters from butts, so I'll try to make this as clear and concise as possible. Here's the thing: what's up with your pants, Old Navy? Morgan has this black pair of cropped pants in a trouser material with a very faint pintstripe that she thinks are totally adorable on her, and I guess in some way they are. They are the only cropped pants I've seen on her that actually end where they are supposed to--i.e., they do not scrape her ankle (Morgan is very short, you see). Plus, the legs are kind of narrow, in a cigarette style way, but they are not tight, and they manage to make her legs look really nice. Maybe it's the pinstriping? I don't know; I digress. The thing is, Old Navy, these pants are super cute. But the problem is, she can't seem to remember that every time she wears them she ends up exposing me to all the world, including the 17 year old boys she spends her days catering to. Isn't that sad, Old Navy? She puts them on, we're both happy, and then half way through the day, the bottom falls out (pun intended). She spends the rest of the day yanking them up, and I spend the rest of the day hiding from the sideways glances from said 17 year old boys.

I write you, Old Navy, because I want you to do something about it. I'm imagining that I am not the only ass betrayed by your pants. I imagine this is a problem that exists, in part, because you refuse to believe that we asses exist. You see, women's asses suffer a sad plight in American fashion. All of you clothing manufacturers seem to think we are more akin to the Loch Ness monster than any other part of the body--one guy spotted one of us once, snapped a picture, but it's been debatable whether we're actually out there or not. I'm writing this letter to tell you that we are out here. Women have butts. Women have nice curvy butts that jut out of the back of their jeans, and entice men (it's one of the myriad ways Morgan attracted her husband, and she has a black Gap skirt suit to thank for it). Sienna Miller may not have a butt, Paris Hilton may not be blessed with an ass, but Real Women do. And I think it's about time you bitches started accounting for that. We, the asses of the world, demand pants that cover us, love us, and define us. We want to be loved, appreciated and flattered, not shoved into the corner like a hideous fairisle sweater (natch). We demand it.

Oh, and Morgan said to tell you that she's actually quite impressed with your new denim line--she's heard lots of things about it. She hasn't bought anything from you (save some tank tops) in quite a while. Clean up your act, and I'll think about letting her go there and buy some more.

Best regards,

Jeanie P. Winchester

aka, Morgan's Butt

A Little About Me...

I just received a comment to my Britney post, and while I felt like some of it was pretty spot on (I agree that both in the post and in my personal life, I fall into some of the same stereotypical thinking and skewed assumptions that fueled my vitriol about Britney's situation), I realized there are some things/misconceptions that I should probably speak a bit about on here. And because I'm trying to stay away from all sorts of work at the moment (like, say, lesson notes for the past week), here you have it: all kinds of things you probably never wanted to know about me.

1. I am a working mom, with kids aged 8 and (almost) 4. My daughter is a very active third grader who plays soccer, is on student council, and takes creative writing classes. My son is...a typical four year old boy. He makes a mess just about everywhere he goes, he is constantly on the go, and has the ability to stay up for incredibly long hours before finally conking out in a pool of blankets and sweat. Did I mention how much this kid eats? No? It's uncanny. I work for a small company that does test prep (SAT, ACT, SAT II's, etc.); I work in the office during the days and teach one on one lessons at night. I generally start work at 9:00 after dropping the kids off, and have lessons until 7:00 (unless, of course, it's tonight when I'll be going until 10:30! Lord, I can't wait until the October 6 SAT!). I am a very busy girl, but I like being like that--I don't think I would change it if I could. Because of this rather harried lifestyle, I hardly ever go shopping "in person" unless I'm heading to GapKids or Old Navy or something. Most, if not all, of my shopping is done online. I am lucky in that I know what size I am, and am pretty good about returning things if they don't fit the way I like.

2. I am not small. I am between a 12 and 14 (probably more towards the 14 side), depending on where I shop. That said, I don't despise my body. In fact, I think I'm pretty sexy about 80% of the time. My body is what it is. Yeah, I'd probably like to be smaller, but I'm not, so I don't care. I love to cook and eat a range of yummy foods, and I wouldn't change that for anything. My son and I share quality time baking together, so in my eyes, the extra pounds are well worth it. I do work out mostly every morning, and feel like I am in pretty good shape for my size and age. (My work outs are all strippercise and from The S Factor by Sheila Kelly-- I would recommend this to anyone. My husband recently bought me a pole, and let me tell you, nothing works your upper arm wobblies like pole work!). Anytime I talk about clothing that I like or have bought, you should imagine it on my body--a real woman's body.

3. I do not have a ton of money. Yes, I work hard, and make good money for what I do. But I live in the Bay Area, and honey, it ain't cheap. Plus, I did mention how much my son eats.... I do not spend a lot of money on clothes--in fact, I probably spend less than a lot of women I know. I scope out sales, I use hella coupon codes, and yes, I do focus on quality rather than on quantity. No, that doesn't mean that I'll drop $800 on heels because I think they are good quality. To me, quality can come from lots of places, but it's all in the texture, the stitching, the way a garment hangs. I have bought quality items at Target, and I have bought quality items at Nordstrom. I buy very few trends, and I research items before I buy them to make sure I'm getting what I want. That's not to say that I'm a perfect shopping robot--I do make some big mistakes. Case number 1: the frilly front shirt I bought (on sale) from J.Crew last year. I put it on, and my husband said "Oh, so are we dressing as our favorite Seinfeld episodes today? Because I have that "Master of My Domain" shirt." Seriously. But overall, I do quite well for what I have.

All that is part of the reason I write this blog. I am tired of looking at fashion magazines and feeling like shit because I'm chubby and don't have $400 sitting around that I can spend on a scarf. I like reading other blogs (like the ones on the side of this page) that are about women who are in similar predicaments and who are, above all, real. I want to live in a world where fashion is fun for everyone, not just a select few who have spent the last year smoking a cigarette for lunch and squeezing the buttons shut on a Rachel Roy dress.

Further, another reason I write this blog is because I believe that we can all do better with ourselves, myself included. Sometimes, before I buy something, I think about this blog and what my 3.7 readers would have to say about me buying another black long-sleeved t-shirt. Boring, they would say. For God's sake, Morgan, they would yell, eyes rolling. I want my readers to have that voice inside their head too. Maybe it could be...my voice (if it is my voice, make sure it has a drawl...I have a decidedly Southern twang). Maybe when you get up in the morning, and reach for those misshapen khakis, you could say to yourself, "Wow... I could really feel better about myself today if I took the 3.2 extra seconds and put on a skirt." And maybe it could be because you read this blog. I don't know. Like I said, I'm not perfect, I'm not even a good fashion role model. But I do think that we all deserve, no matter what size we are, no matter how much money we have in the bank (or don't have, in my case--thank god for payday tomorrow) to participate in fashion and let ourselves look as good as possible. Really, there's no good excuse for not looking your best. And I hope that if I do anything with this blog (other than waste my own time), it's to get you to think about that.

I was tagged!

Allie at My Wardrobe Today tagged me for this survey, which is only the bestest thing evah, since I have lessons tonight until 10:30, and am currently holded up in the office, trying my damnedest not to do any work. Seriously. 14 hour work days can suck it, as can most things in my life right now. Whatever. I'm thrilled to do this survey.

Four Jobs I Have Had In My Life
1. barrista at Joe Muggs inside of Books A Million
2. wedding photography assistant
3. server/hostess at a whole bunch of places (and sometimes, strangely enough, I wish I could do it again)
4. jewelry associate at J.C. Penney's (can't hate on the JCP)

Four Movies I Can Watch Over and Over and Over
1. Manhattan
2. Annie Hall
3. Office Space
4. Ghost World

Four TV Shows I Like to Watch
1. America's Next Top Model (guilty pleasure!--me too, Allie. Love Tyra and all those crazy bitches!)
2. Prison Break
3. The Office
4. Grey's Anatomy

Four Places I Have Vacationed
1. Carolina Beach, NC (this has to be first because this is where I spent every summer vacation from my birth until I went to college)
2. New York, NY (the first family vacation Matt and I ever took our kids on--damn did we have some good food!)
3. Lake Tahoe
4. this great country of ours! (Matt and I have spent a couple of vacay's driving across country--by far on of the most fun things I have ever done.)

Four Of My Favorite Dishes
1. BBQ ribs with baked beans and potato salad (to me, this comes all together--can't have one without the others)
2. my mom's Chinese meal--Chinese chicken nuggets, stir-fry, homemade egg rolls, fried rice...YUM!
3. the bento box at Suzhou (I recently got my daughter hooked on sushi, so we're eating at Suzhou quite frequently lately...this is what I always get, and I always love it).
4. my roasted chicken with all the fixings, both because I like to eat and because I love to make it

Four Websites I Visit Daily
1. Gmail
2. Facebook
3. My Wardrobe Today
4. Television Without Pity

Four Places I Would Rather be
1. at home, in my bed with the hubster
2. Stinson Beach so I could finally finish my book
3. Paris
4. shopping with friends

Four Bloggers I am Tagging:
1. Mara at A Photo A Day

2. Winona at Daddy Likey

3. Emily at EmilyStyle
4. Meg at Faking Good Breeding

PG&E Can Suck It, and More About Fall

Ok, so I am seriously jonesing for some new clothes. Seriously. I have the shakes. I'm half expecting Matt to take me to a Super 8 where I'll find assorted family and friends who'll give me the whole "We love you, but we're not going to love you to death" routine (oooo....Intervention reference--tune in on Friday's bitches! I don't want to be the only one!). Every morning I get up and almost cry at the clothes that are in my closet. I. Have. Nothing. To. Wear. Nothing. My clothes are hideous, the jeans I thought I loved give me some degree of muffin top (even though I seem to be the only one noticing this muffin top), my sweaters have balls on them. I have one semi-ok outfit going on, but you can't wear a corduroy pencil skirt and leopard print heels everyday.

So, I'm sure you're saying, "Well, shut it and go buy some new clothes." But here's the thing. I got no cash. Why? PG&E took it all. For some reason, my husband forgot to pay the electric bill last month or something, and then our house is literally falling apart at the seams, so we ended up with a $731 electric bill this month. For some people this may be normal, but well, it breaks the ole budget for us. Evidently we have to make some repairs on some things in our house so that we're not using so much power. So the rest of my discretionary income has gone for CFL bulbs and weather stripping and little trolls that hop out of the wall and remind my 3 year old to "TURN OFF THAT FREAKING LIGHT!!!" Plus, said 3 year old has a birthday coming up next weekend, so there goes the rest of Morgan's clothes fund. Here's the thing I don't understand: shouldn't I be getting the presents anyway? Sam literally did nothing 4 years ago this coming Saturday, but I managed to give birth to him without pain medication and be nice to all the people who showed up at my house to wish him well AND finish reading and analyzing The Wasteland for class the next week. Shouldn't I get a prize? Like a majestic purple cashmere hoodie from J. Crew? But I digress. (On that note, while I'm doling out the grouchiness, T.S. Eliot can also suck it. He knows why.)

But a girl can dream. I have already decided what I would buy, were I to have scads of discretionary income at my fingertips.

I love this jacket. Do you know what I would do for this jacket? Lots of things. Lots of bad, bad things. Imagine how cute this jacket would be with a brightly colored tee and creased denim? Love it, love it.

I don't need wool trousers. My job and life station are such that I can wear jeans everyday, and don't really need to do anything else. But these just say "Fall" to me. And I want them. Bad.

I want this dress with a turtleneck, dark green tights and boots. I want to wear it with grey sweater tights and my red peep toe pumps with the cone heel. I want to wear it with a big graphic necklace and a purple turtleneck. I want it. I love it.

You know, I thought this would help, but it is in fact making things worse. I'm thisclose to going to find the credit card that we only use for bonafide emergencies (my husband reminds me that this is for food and stuff, not for dresses) and getting the dress. At least. And maybe the jacket.... I'm rethinking my stance on credit cards in general (I have none, and have always strived to keep it that way).

All work and no clothes makes Morg a dull girl.

Fashion Memories--8th Grade Style

So Winona at Daddy Likey had this contest for the best description of adolescent fashion debauchery. And I was totally gonna enter. I totally felt like I could rack up the prize--which is something as divine as a Boyz II Men cd--and confess to my fashion sins at the same time. But here's the thing: I sat down to write the entry, and then my husband said something about needing the computer, and I got mad and stomped off to the bedroom (I'm a very dramatic wife) where I ate a plate of hot wings, watched Law and Order and fell asleep. And I forgot about it. So this brings us to now. The contest is over. I lost by default. I'm pissed. Mostly because I've never won anything (save a $28 raffle at a showing of The Princess Bride at W&M), but also because I wanted to talk about my fashion sins. And, honey, there are a lot of them.

So, without further adieu, I give you my favorite outfit as a 14 year old, and yes, the one I met my future husband in:

I call it Gothic Preppy Hillbilly with a Dream.

I guess I should explain. My dream as a kid was to be an actress. In New York. Or really anyway that wasn't southwest VA. I thought I looked the part, and by "looked the part" looked appropriately sullen and dangerous. Especially when I wore this ensemble:

Coral pique polo from the Gap that I literally stole out of my stepsister's closet. Seriously. I hated her at the time (I actually hated most people, come to think of it. Except for Billy Joe Armstrong. My future husband.). So I went over to my Dad's one Sunday when she wasn't home, and helped myself to a few polos and a few choice other items (more about that in a bit). So anyway, there was this polo. It was a size large. I was decidedly not large.

I wore this TUCKED IN and BLOUSED OUT into a pair of khaki JNCO pants. These things were skin tight at the top (I actually tucked the shirt into my underwear, which were velvet and from the clearance bins at Victoria's Secret--shoplifted those too) and flared out to a HUGE leg. I could seriously fit my waist into it, and did this as some kind of parlor trick (did I mention that I was slutty too?). I made my mom buy them for me at the Gadzooks in the West Towne Mall in Knoxville. I shopped there because I thought I was badass for getting my mom to drive me three hours to a mall. My mom didn't think I was badass. She thought I'd end up in military school, probably after committing a few misdemeanors.

With this, I wore a pair of Dr. Marten sandals that weighed in at about 2 lbs. each. I know this because my dad weighed them one Sunday in the middle of a Nascar race, and then proceeded to laugh it up with his buddies about my "clodhoppers." And you wonder why I was shoplifting and slutty....whatever. They were brown and made of braided leather. Hot.

Now to make up and hair. Despite my decidedly "New York actress" look, I couldn't get away from the Southern "big hair" thing. I hot rolled my hair every morning into sausage curls. Then I would flip my hair over, shove an accordian band into it while upside down, and then flip my head back up real fast so that everything flew back into a volumized torrent of fuzz and fluff. I would then coat it in half a can of LA Looks aerosol spray. I seriously wore a rats nest for about two years and considered it a style. God bless the South.

As for make-up, this was nothing too bad. My favorite lip gloss was Clinique Black Honey, and this was something my mother actually approved of. I also wore Urban Decay blue nail polish. I kept my nails painted with dark polish for so long that they got deprived of oxygen and turned yellow. Didn't know that can happen? Now you do.

As for jewelry, this was all stolen from my stepsister too. My favorite thing was a sterling silver dolphin ring that looked like it was literally wrapped around my finger. It was too tight, so when I took it off at night it left a red mark shaped like dolphin on my finger. I suffered for my art.

And this is the look that made my husband look at me one day at a PACE match and say, "I'm going to marry that girl." Actually, I think what he said was more like, "Dude, that chick has a nice rack." Because I did. And I still do. Some things, unlike bad fashion choices, never change.

Just Another Blogger Writing About Britney

Do you see this woman? This is a woman who, in the last two years, has given birth twice, been to rehab, been through a divorce, had her love of Cheetos publicly documented, been investigated by Child Protective Services, broken a relationship with her mother, been through countless assistants/manny's/security folk, gobbed up her set of falsies while crying to Matt Lauer, and countless other things that you or I cannot even begin to imagine. Is it her fault? Partly yes. Is she a smart, talented, amazing person, worthy of fascination and adulation? No, not really. You can say lots of things about Britney Spears, but one thing you cannot say is that she is fat. Had I been through all that she has been through in the past two years, I would have to use a crane as my major mode of transport. Hell, I've just been through the "having two kids" part (and even that I've stretched out over 9 years) and I would love to have the body that Britney displayed at the VMA's. Yet when I logged on to my computer this afternoon, ready to read about the news of the world, I was confronted by an article in the San Francisco Chronicle detailing how fat Britney Spears has become, and how this giant, flabby beast has ruined her career, life, and the life of those who happened to see her performance just for being so darn chubby. (Ok, so that's a bit of an exaggeration, but that's the general feeling I get reading the countless articles on the internet written about Ms. Spears' love handles. )

Now, I'll be the first to agree that Britney's outfit was a bit...unforgiving. However, Britney has never been a bastion of class. This is the same girl who writhed around in a chiffon bikini with a snake around her neck. Not exactly Jackie O. So, really, nothing's changed. If you thought she was slutty before she had two children, well, newsflash, folks...she still is. However, if you thought she was hot before she had two children, here's the thing: she still is. I'll admit here for the first time ever: I would give my two eye teeth to look like her. Britney is just hot in a different way now: hot in a decidedly un-17-year-old, grown-up, I-just-had-two-kids-but-I-still-work-out-a-lot-and-have-genes-you-peons-only-dream-about way.

Normally, this kind of thing would not spur me to be angry and write long blog posts in which I defend people who really don't deserve my defense, but tonight I went to a Pizza in the Park event at my daughter's school. This is a yearly event where every kid brings their parents to the park where we sit like some kind of bizarre show and tell and watch our children play. It's excruciating. Perhaps because I am a good 10 years younger than most of the parents there (in some cases, it's more like 20-25), perhaps because I'm very set in my ways as far as how I like to look, work, and raise my children, whatever the reason, I very nearly despise having to sit on a cold blanket in the park, eating greasy pizza and trying to make conversation with some PTA denizen who just spent the workday ironing her son's name into the collar of his polo shirt. Perhaps that sounds cruel, but seriously people, you haven't spent any time with the parents at my daughter's school. Ick. Anyway, tonight, however, I took a good look at the women around me. I was one of the very few working mother's in attendance (we live in a very WASP-y, domestic neighborhood--especially for Norcal). I was also one of the few who had brushed her hair in the last week. Women sat around me wearing misshapen khaki capris (the piece of clothing I'm sure Satan's wife wears in Hell), sweatpants, and Keds (and not the kind you see Mischa Barton modeling--the white canvas ones that God forgot). Normally I would come home and make snide comments about these women to my husband whilst thumbing through Glamour, secretly wishing I had their kind of time, their lack of worries. Tonight, I'm just not in the mood.

And mostly because of Britney. I sat there looking at those women, thinking that their husbands were maybe still in the city, screwing the secretary, and wishing that they didn't have to come home to their white bread life of khaki capris and minivans. Maybe their husbands want someone sexier to return home to. Maybe these wives want to be sexy too, to go to the mall and buy something that fits and model it while feeding their children transfats and throwing caution to the wind. But why would they? Someone who is thinner than them, younger than them, richer than them was on TV last night in a sexy get-up, and everyone calls her fat now. Why would they (why would any of us) want to suffer a similar fate? Through Britney, our society has reminded all the mothers, all the girls, all of us that we're never really going to be good enough. No matter how rich you are, no matter how much weight you lose, no matter how many bags of Cheetos you eschew for rice cakes--you may still be that girl, teetering in her high heels, looking for love and getting a facefull of fat jokes in return.

That sucks. I have no solution to offer, no witty life lesson to share. Our society is telling women horrible things about our bodies, about ourselves, about our fellow women. And it sucks. I hope you think it sucks too.

Cheap Thrills

So for someone who doesn't have a lot of cash, I sure have expensive tastes. Luckily, make-up is the only place where I indulge these exorbitant tastes. In fact, I never miss an opportunity to indulge them. And I justify every purchase like a champ...I once told my husband that DiorShow mascara cures cancer, AIDS and the common cold, and the only reason he hadn't had cancer/AIDS/recent colds is because I wear it. And that's not an out and out lie...in my eyes DiorShow does cure many of the world's wrongs, and if everyone in the world wore DiorShow, life would be much more manageable. I feel the same way about most of the things that Benefit makes and J.Crew featherweight merino v-neck sweaters (note: I just got a divine purple one. I put it on and feel like the totally awesome love child of Prince and J. Peterman--mostly because he's the only person I can think of who I feel would love merino wool as much as me).

That said, it should come as no surprise that I don't dabble that much in drugstore make-up. I will pick up a lipgloss now and again because I chronically lose lipglosses, but I hardly ever buy anything else. This is not necessarily because I'm a horrible, materialistic label whore of a person. Growing up, I had very, very pale skin, and just couldn't find foundation in cheap brands. Or, rather, I guess I could, but they all made me look like an Oompah Loompah. So, because she did not want to live with someone who regularly swims in chocolate rivers, my mother would take me on a monthly pilgrimage to the Prescriptives counter to buy my foundation. And the Clinique counter. And then the Lancome. What can I say? We both love make-up. I have very fond memories of visiting the Kingsport mall Proffitts with nothing but an empty afternoon spreading before us, getting free make-overs from the bored salesladies, and indulging in moisturizers and this and that. It was a treat. At age 13, I remember thinking that real rebellion was more about Maybelline Ultraliner and Great Lash Mascara than my pot smoking, Nirvana worshipping 18 year old boyfriend (a fact that I'm sure my mother sorely disagreed with).

So imagine my surprise that I have revisited the Maybelline counter, and have had some pretty damn fine results. It has actually happened on three seperate occasions, thus you're getting three product reviews tonight (rock on!). Our first product.....

Maybelline Superstay Foundation--Alright my little pelmenis, let it be said that I have a hard time with foundation. And I'm also the kiss of death when it comes to one that I like--I decide that I love it, can't live without it, and then two weeks later it is discontinued. The funny thing about this one is, I don't know quite why I bought it. I don't even really remember buying it. I think I got it at Target...maybe I was drunk? Just kidding--I don't get drunk very often (despite the rather authoritative voice I used in the last post...). Whatever. I bought this stuff with a near full thing of BareMinerals at home, as well as a nearly 1/4 full bottle of MAC Mineralsomethingorother Liquid Foundation. So I didn't need foundation. But for whatever reason, I bought this. And it is actually nice. Really nice. First off, it matches my skin tone, which is not the miraculous happening it used to be--my skin has wisened with age and is a bit darker since I moved to CA and determined that books don't necessarily have to be read in a dark room whilst listening to Nirvana's Unplugged in New York and sobbing. And it lasts. That Superstay thing? Not a marketing ploy. This stuff does last. Perhaps it's the attached primer like substance? Perhaps its the fact that its probably made of carcinogens and the powder of ground up horse bones (I'm a real make-up elitist, aren't I)? Whatever reason, this stuff is damn fine. And it costs something like $8 or so. A good deal.

An even better deal? This little pot of blush I bought off the clearance end cap at Long's for about $2.49. Maybelline Dream Mousse Blush is a cute little cream blush that comes in standard blush colors and provides an airy touch to your makeup. Of course, you can't find the color I bought anymore--it's strawberry something if you want to rebel and look for it anyway--because it is discontinued (thus my rock bottom price). The thing is though, this is good blush. It provides a sheer wash of color that is very translucent, and "like your cheeks, only better." So it's probably good even in a non-discontinued color (and not a whole ton more expensive). Just make sure that you're only using a bit. I'm betting this stuff could take you from zero to Baby Jane in 3.2 seconds flat. Not that I've tried. But as long as you're careful, try it out. Just steer clear of this foundation (the Dream Mousse kind). My mom bought some when she was hungry once (it's called a mousse, you see, and we're big French dessert lovers, my mom and I) and it made her look like a drag queen. A cheap one. With a make-up line. Yugh.

Finally, we come to my newest (ok, probably not newest...I'd be embarassed to admit how many lipglosses I've bought since I bought this one) lipgloss purchase....Maybelline Shine Seduction Something or Other. I actually bought this when my mom was in town and I was at Long's getting medication for my kidney infection. TMI? Maybe. Anyway, I saw it and thought it looked like the poorer girl's version of Revlon LipGlide, a cheap thrill that I also have in my arsenal. And I bought it. In the color Pink Whisper. And here's the cool thing...it totally eradicates the one thing I dislike about Revlon Lipglide--the little white fuzzy thing at the top that the lip stuff shoots out of. You know that thing? I hate it. Why? Because when you buy it, it's all pure and white and cute, and then the lipgloss comes squirting out of the little holes in the top, and it's such a good junxtaposition between the lipgloss and the white...and then you smush it on your lips, and it is never white again. Maybelline Shine Seduction takes that problem away because your lipgloss comes shooting out of a clear plastic applicator. And that's not all...I would consider this a light lipgloss in that it is not sticky or heavy, and feels pretty natural on the lips. And the color is pretty. Pink Whisper is a "like your lips only prettier" shade that is just a bit shiny, not overwhelmingly I-just-put-on-lipgloss obvious. I like it. My only complaint is that for some reason, the smell reminds me of this anti-bug oil that my grandmother used to put on me when it was summer and we went to visit my aunt at Boone Lake. Not a good smell. I mean, it's not blatantly obvious, and it could just be me. In fact, it is most likely just me, because this afternoon when I got home from work, my lips still full of Maybelline (and probably botulism), my husband gave me a big kiss, and then commented that my lips tasted nice. Which is totally unlike him. You know how much I love lipgloss? Yeah, Matt hates it just about the same amount. Which makes for an interesting marriage, let me tell you.

So that's that. Maybelline products are good. They are not made out of horse hooves and infectious disease. You should buy some. More product reviews later, of more expensive things that make me feel like a douche for owning them.

How to Cure a Hangover in ___ Easy Steps

So this morning I am a bit hungover, which is neither fashionable nor sexy, unless of course you are Lindsey Lohan, and then it's just fine. Don't change, Lindsey! We love your nasty coke-addled ways! Anyway, I have a bit of a hangover, which is totally my fault. I am a very, very stupid drinker, but while I am doing it, I think I'm being very smart/responsible. Take last night for instance. I went to my friend Lisa's party (more on that later), and I drank her delicious white wine sangria and ate myself into a rather Bacchian revelry. However, knowing that I had to drive home, and I was in my husband's car, and thus should not abandon it beside the Oakland street where I had parked it in order to take a cab, I stopped my drinking at a responsible time, opting to stuff my face with chocolate cake and cold carne asada instead. I made it home ok, which was a minor miracle, and then proceeded to be an idiot. See, when I got home, I was sneezing because of a mixture of smoke and cat hair inhalation, so I had to take a Claritin, and sometimes Claritin makes me giddy, so I decided to wash it down with beer. Lots of beer. So I basically stayed up, watching Hogan Knows Best and drinking by myself, until I just passed out/fell asleep. If that doesn't sound like a premise for a bad episode of Intervention, I don't know what does. So anyway, all things aside, I'm feeling gross today.

Or rather, I was feeling gross until I enacted my awesome hangover cure that I am going to write about here, and that will almost certainly make me a millionaire before nightfall! Below are the steps I used to make myself feel like a functioning member of society.

1. If you are hungover, endeavor to get up before everyone else in your family so that you can prepare yourself and look sorta alive before they get up. It's for the children, you see. This is relatively easy for me, as Matt and I are raising a couple of vampires whose skin sizzles if they manage to get out of bed before 10:30. My son, Sam, is especially prone to this. If you get up before everyone else does, you have the house to yourself for a little while, and you can operate with the blessed silence that so eludes a mother of two. Plus, the first thing you hear in the morning doesn't have to be "Why does Mommy smell like feet?" and the first thing you smell doesn't have to be urine soaked pajama cotton.

2. Get yourself to the bathroom. You stink, and your hair looks like shit. Congratulations. You now know what Kevin Federline woke up to for two years. Don't you think he should get a bit more money for his time and suffering? Run a bath, and put in two capfuls of Boots Mediterranean Bergamot Orange & Olive Bath Cream (I thought this would be a great spot for a link or a picture, but Target doesn't sell this online. It's now time for me to write my Congressman about this injustice). This stuff is awesome. First off, it smells really nice, but in a fresh, herby way, not a way that is going to make you revisit the mounds of carne asada you had the night before. It also makes bubbles. Bubbles make you clean. Even if your entire body is covered in cocaine and feces, and you look like a teenage prostitute from an old episode of Law and Order, this will make you clean. You will emerge smelling fresh, and this uplifts your mood. So instead of wishing that the entire Hogan family would be wiped out in a catastrophic, Miami bound tsunami, you will only consider them mildly annoying. See how that works?

3. Prepare two important items: a cold, wet wash cloth for your head, and a stack of magazines. The wash cloth helps with the ensuing headache, plus, if you're like me and run your bath water at near boiling temperatures, it will cool you down. For magazines, I like Real Simple because it is wholesome and the pictures are pretty. It kind of eases me back into my nice, debauchery free life. However, if you're still feeling a bit dirty, you have to have Cosmo. And you know you have an old copy somewhere. Everyone does.

4. Get in the tub, and soak until you get pruney. Watch the nastiness go down the drain. Stay where you are. If worse comes to worst and you have to puke, you're closer to the toilet in the bath than you are anywhere else.

5. Get out and dry off. Coat yourself in some kind of body butter. Again, this is just about bringing yourself back to life. Try to pick one that is the opposite of whatever you drank the night before. For example, since I drank about half of Lisa's pitcher of white wine sangria, a fruity, light beverage, I coated myself in The Body Shop's Coconut Body Butter, a rich, softening cream. This distanced me from my night-time activities, and made me smell good.

6. Put on something comfortable and wholesome looking. You'll feel better if no one is asking you about the night before. Put that out of their minds. I am wearing yoga pants with a white lace trimmed Banana Republic t-shirt. It's so sweet! I could be Little Bo Peep who lost her sheep while drinking with the boy shepherds!

Ok, that's all I can think of, and that's all I've actually done today. I still feel a bit crappy, but it could be worse. I could look like Linda Hogan. No matter how drunk I am, that woman just gets uglier and uglier.

And if you were at the party last night and managed to make it here after Lisa drunkenly advised everyone to go to "Morgan's blog called Cult of the Black Hole," congratulations. You're obviously very dedicated to reading crap. Also, you have too much time on your hands. Want to come over here and clean my living room? It's nasty, and I've got some Guitar Hero to deal with.

Finally, thanks to Allie at My Wardrobe Today (if that link doesn't work, just try to overlook it. I'm hungover. Don't judge.) who linked me to her wonderful site. I get a ton of inspiration from Allie, so to be linked there is a huge honor. When I read her comment this morning, I seriously got all choked up. Again, I'm hungover. Don't judge.

A Product Review a Day Keeps the Ugliness Away

If you only knew how bad I have been lately, you would probably ask me to seek professional help. I have bought a PILE of make-up lately. A PILE. I'm not really sure why--I'm going to blame it on the marketing folks who shove "Back to School Shopping" down our throats--but for some reason, I have just wanted new make-up lately. So I've gotten it. A lot of it. That means that in order to justify my purchases (journalistic integrity! a desire to inform the uninformed!), I'm going to be on here a lot talking about the things I've bought. So expect it, my little mini quiches! Nothing but the best for my 3.5 readers!

Today I'm talking about "That Gal" Brightening Face Primer, which was actually the first thing I bought a couple of weeks ago. I bought That Gal after my mom came out to visit, and showed me how awesome it is. She had bought some, and found that it made her "mature" skin (her word, not mine--when I think mature skin, I think of skin that is now allowed to watch NC-17 movies) look better both while wearing make-up and not wearing it. When I first tried hers, I wasn't sure that I thought it was that great, but she kept commenting me on my skin, so I assumed it must look nice. But I think they put meth in this stuff or something, because it is rather addictive (and it made my teeth fall out!--just kidding). After trying it that one day, I took my time layering it on the next, and notice that even without a veil of Bare Minerals, my skin looked nice. Kind of bright, and well, young. I decided to go without make-up that day, and while I ordinarily go next to nowhere without make-up, I looked nice that day. So I ordered my own tube.

Now, ordering from Benefit is absolutely awesome. First off, their packaging is so cute and cheeky that I love leaving the products out on my vanity for all to admire (and by "all", I mean "Matt"). Their website is just that cute. Plus, when you sign up for their email alerts, you get all of these cute emails that start of with a greeting of "Hello Gorgeous!" or something equally as cute. Now, I know I'm gullible and totally taken with this stuff, but you try to tell me that getting an email with "Hello Gorgeous!" written on the top on a Monday morning when you're dealing with wealthy, overindulged parents and their catatonic offspring is not a little awesome/uplifting. Finally, when Benefit gives promotions, they give PROMOTIONS. This month in Lucky (yes, I read Lucky. Shut up.), there was a coupon for them and if you ordered anything, you got a free Bluff Dust (review pending). Full size. Free. I got a bottle of High Beam this way, so I was on this crap. I ordered my That Gal, and prepared for gorgeousness.

And, I can't complain. It does give your skin a nice, youthful glow, and despite the fact that the stuff is pink (like Calamine lotion) it does not make your face look red or gross or anything. I have been wearing it sans make-up, as it has been hot here, and I can't imagine putting on another layer of anything, even Bare Minerals, but when I have worn it with make-up, I've noticed that it does keep your make-up around longer.

My only complaint is the way it is packaged. It's in this twist-up tube, like some sort of cosmetic push up. You roll the bottom wheel, and a little bit of lotion pops up at the top. You wipe it off the top, and then slather it on. That's all fine, but being the dumb ass that I am, I totally roll it the wrong way everytime. And then it goes down even farther in the tube, which means I have to roll it the right way for a hella long time to get the product back up. That's kind of blow-y.

But all in all, this stuff rocks. I actually like it better than Smashbox Primer, which admittedly, I've only used 4-5 times (when I've gotten it as a free sample from Sephora). This stuff is good, even without make-up, and I never noticed that with the Smashbox (which again, may relate to my not using it that much). I'm also very partial to Benefit cosmetics, so that probably plays into it too.

Ok, this is the first of many, so prepare yourself. It's a Cosmetics-apalooza at the Cult!