Thursday, March 28, 2013

Thems the breaks.

When I was around twelve or so I remember watching a movie with my mom about spring break that she loved from her teenage years. This movie would join my heavy rotation of films that were playing on a loop at the time on HBO.
I would land on these gems whenever they were on and watch them in their entirety, no matter what. 

A few of the movies included:

Kramer vs. Kramer
Mask
American Graffiti
The Champ
Mommie Dearest
and mom's pick - Where the Boys Are

Where the Boys Are was a kitchy 60's movie about a group of co-eds (I love that word) who travel from the Midwest to Fort Lauderdale, Florida for Spring Break. I was living in New York at the time and dreamed of being one of the girls in the film who wore a bikini and got picked up on by boys.

I sang Connie Francis' title song to audition for
my high school glee club, "SHOWCASE."
Didn't get it.

Who knew just a few years later our family would make the move to Tampa, Florida and I wouldn't have to go where the boys were, the boys would all be getting on planes and coming to me. I would be prepping for spring break like a bride planning for her wedding day, counting down the days...

SIX MORE DAYS!

FOUR MORE DAYS!

The boys are coming! THE BOYS ARE COMING!
 
My besties and I would cake on the makeup, spray on the Colors by Benetton perfume, make our hair as gigantic as possible and drive on down to Clearwater Beach to cruise the strip.
 
I'm sure all of those "gorgeous guys" appreciated Susanne and I
"being obnoxious" and "yelling" at them.
 
I now had a new problem living in this amazing land of spring break. The boys came to visit but they also had to go home, which led to a lot of unnecessary bawling, furious letter writing, and yelling by my father over outrageously high long-distance bills.

Poor John from Ohio.
Cute, but nothing great.
 
Many a torrid, dramatic love affair started late March only to end early April. I kind of felt like Marty from Grease, gathering a bunch of pen-pals from all over the US (and Australia too!) Of course these relationships fizzled out as quickly as they arrived, but it was fun imagining these strangers as my future-potential-husbands.
 
 
I was left holding a torch, a flame - sometimes a photo and a letter.
Thank God I was also left holding my diaries, well-documented with all of the lovesick, gory, pathetic details.
  
How depressing - gotta work 12-6, then back to school.
But at least Todd from Michigan loves me.
He "dressed great and actually seemed to be interested."
Good enough for me.

 

 
 
 
 
 



Friday, March 15, 2013

Too young to fall in love.

We have a radio station here in Portland called "The Brew" that plays what I lovingly refer to as buttrock.
Some highlights from their playlist today are:

Photograph by Def Leppard
Round and Round by Ratt
Here I Go Again by Whitesnake
No One Like You by Scorpions
T.N.T. by AC/DC

You get the picture – you can call it classic rock or whatever you want but it’s totally not - it’s buttrock.

My taste in music runs the gamut and sometimes, a lot lately, I find myself landing on The Brew to get my daily fix. You can also join the “Brew Crew” on their website where they also offer a “Prize Keg” and “The Babe of the Day” - it’s pretty good stuff.

The other day they played a Mötley Crüe song that I hadn’t heard in forever, Too Young to Fall in Love. It was from back in Mötley's makeup-wearing-glam days, back when I was in the seventh or eighth grade. Probably too young to be listening to a song with lyrics about whores and wearing outfits like this:

She's got legs.
And a hat.

But I listened to the music, wore the outfits, and did several other things I was too young to be doing.
Nothing life-changing, things lots of pre-teenage girls do.

You did them too, right?
Right?

Too Much Makeup.
I experimented with make up starting around the sixth grade. I had one angle – pile on as much as possible - because more is better. More makeup makes you look older and hotter to older hot boys. Duh. My parents finally had a makeup intervention with me where I was dragged to the Clinique counter and taught a little something about subtlety. Following my lesson, I continued to keep my Wet ‘n Wild screaming blue eyeliner and red lipstick in my Trapper Keeper. Bright blue eyeliner was my drug of choice, and no lady with a bun in a white lab coat could take my drug away from me. Ever.


The Texas Chainsaw Massacre.
I was a horror movie junkie as a kid - my dad and I watched them together from a very young age. We enjoyed horror films of the so-bad-they’re-good genre as well as just plain scary ass movies involving monsters, killers, clowns, whatever. I don’t remember the exact age I watched a grainy VHS copy of the 1974 Tobe Hooper classic Texas Chainsaw, but I know I was BY MYSELF and waaaay too young to be watching it. And I knew I was too young at the time, but I couldn’t turn it off. I watched it several times, hoping the outcome would be different for the characters involved. But ce la vie, Leatherface pretty much wins out in the end. And Grandpa - with his hammer (shudder). It continues to and always will scare the crap out of me. And I will watch it again.



Got in cars with boys instead of seeing a movie.
Well, yes, I did get in cars with boys, and it wasn’t all Happy Days style to go find my thrill on blueberry hill. My little girl gang and I would get dressed to the nines and would have our parents drop us off at the Mission Bell shopping enter in Tampa, Florida. There was a movie theatre there as well as a strip, where people (mostly girls) walked up and down, back and forth and other people (mostly boys) drove really slow and honked horns and made catcalls. It was like animals on parade, where us girls were sticking out our feathers and the boys were trying to mate. For a pre-teen girl, this was all very exciting, although I will admit I was pretty clueless as to kissing and petting (thank you Happy Days) at this point in my life. Sometimes it was just that once around the strip in the El Camino with Hector that made me feel pretty special. And what the hell were my parents thinking? No one gets that dolled up to go sit in the dark at a movie with her girlfriends.

Ready to be driven to "the movies."
I was beyond desperate to be a teenager. Then be an adult. Just like a ba-zillion other pre-teen kids were and are today.

Today I am desperate to be a pre-teen girl again. I am reliving the days of pretending-to-walk-into-a-movie-theatre-then-jumping-into-a-car-with-a-boy by listening to Everybody Wants You by Billy Squier.

Friday, March 8, 2013

The gift that keeps on giving.

Have I mentioned that I have what I consider to be the most amazing core group of girlfriends on the planet?
Better than the the girls on Girls, the Sex and the City circle, or even the Golden Girls (yes, EVEN them) we adore each other to pieces.

Laura, Kristen, me, Julie.
Lucky girls.
It’s not always easy to get the four of us together; we all have crazy schedules and busy lives, so when we are able to make that happen it’s damn special. Birthdays are damn special, and are the perfect excuse for us to go out for a long leisurely dinner, cocktails, and if we’re lucky a cake baked by Laura.

Gifts don’t matter – the best gift is that us girls have uninterrupted time together.
Well, that and Laura’s cake.

But this year hot damn! The girls did good in the gift department.
Real good.

It’s like they discovered this perfect thing - the ultimate gift - something that was custom made just for me.
They got me a gift that I will continue to get once a month for the next six months!

They gifted me a Birchbox – which is a box chock full of beauty product samples (not skimpy samples, big samples) that are sent to me based on an online profile that I filled out; so the products are customized for my curly hair, combination skin, and ongoing desire to smell like a cookie.

So the other day when I got home from work here is what I saw:

I never get stuff in the mail!


Opening this beauty up, I felt like it was my birthday all over again.

Like the Jelly of the Month club - but better!

It was filled with such fun goodies! And a Ghirardelli Caramel Square.
What, did they plant a hidden camera in my house? How do they know I love caramel?

My first Birchbox included:

Beauty Protector Protect and Detangle Spray.
A leave in mist for my mane - I like it! It smells really nice and I feel like it is putting some much need moisture back into my hair since the show I was doing, Weekend at Bernie's, closed last week. Bernie's required some major 80's-style teasing and styling. This softens and detangles, makes my hair say , "Aaaaahhh."

Juicy Couture La La.
A pretty, light, floral little perfume sample. I wouldn't buy it, but it's fun to try. When I think of JUICY COUTURE I usually think of those words slapped in giant letters on velour pants across someones butt. This perfume sample helps that visual go away. A little bit.



Vasanti BrightenUp! Face Rejuvenator.
Probably my fave of the box, a microdermabrasion face wash that exfoliates and smells like papaya.
My skin felt super-smooth afterwards and soaked up my moisturizer like it was in the desert dying of thirst. Me likey.


The Balm Hot Mama.
The Balm does such fun packaging, and this color is hot. Can be used on cheeks, lids, and lips too.
I would totally buy this.

I can go onto the Birchbox website and purchase the products I like as well as review them.
Also if I refer a friend I earn points toward product, product, product!

Do my girls know me or what?
I’m pretty damn lucky.
And now I’ll be pretty damn pretty.

Thanks girls.

Sweet.

Friday, March 1, 2013

Lil' thangs.

It’s the little things that make me happy.

The little tiny baby things – it doesn’t take much.
Really.

Like the weatherman was wrong, and I didn’t need my umbrella.
Or there’s a two-dollar-off coupon on Dave’s Killer Bread.
Or my boss buys me a latte.
These things put a smile on my mug.

Getting ready for work this morning at 5:30 (yes, I want you to feel sorry for me) today I discovered that there are little things in my daily routine that make me happy. Very happy. Well, as happy as I can be at 5:30 in the morning.

Opening up a box of Dove.
I hate small soap. Washing myself with little, disintegrated soap makes me feel like a giant. It also reminds me of college when I had no money and would scrub myself with that soap chip until it disappeared into some part of my body or slipped down the drain. Neither of these things make me feel particularly good about myself. Since soap comes in a box when I open a new one, I kinda feel like I’m opening a present. “Hey, wow, soap, just what I needed! How did you know?” I also get this same sense of excitement when I open up a wrapped ream of paper in the copy room at work. “Wow! Paper! Awesome!” I told you, this is about the little things.

What could it be???

The "pop" of mascara.
I just like that pop the wand makes when it comes out of the tube. Especially a relatively new, fancy tube. Yesterday I went over to Sephora (shocker) and picked up my birthday gift which included a sample size of benefits They’re Real Mascara, which I expressed my love for in the past. Pop goes the mascara. Pop goes the really good quality, FREE birthday mascara.


Trader Joe’s Colombia Supremo Coffee.
My love and devotion for one Mr. Trader Joe is legendary. I picture him swinging towards me on a vine, swooping me up in his arms, wearing his crazy Hawaiian shirt pointing me toward all the delicious bargains he has in store for me in his wonderful store. Having coffee that comes in a can with a plastic lid reminds me of being a kid. I like it.
Little things.


My NARS Pencil Sharpener.
Who knew there was a difference in different brands of eye/lip pencil sharpeners? THERE IS. After using the same fall apart, mushy-with-remnants-of-color Maybelline sharpener I’ve carried for years that has permanently stained the inside of many a make up bag, I found this goody by NARS recommended by my favorite guy at Sephora. It has a little lid that locks on and catches all the pencil shavings. It fits my favorite chubby lip pencil perfectly. It actually sharpens things, rather than destroying them. Maybelline I love you, but sorry. And NARS? You are so worth the six bucks I spent on you. Little money + sharpened lip pencil = happy Lori.


Peeling off the foil on a new jar of nutella.
Don’t judge me. It’s early. I’m hungry.

The bread was totally on sale!
Little things!

So after writing this I have come to the conclusion that I like opening things. Especially new things – it’s exciting.
Or things that aren’t new but feel new everyday, like the can of coffee or getting the new, fresh color from the lip pencil.

At 5:30 in the morning these things put a smile on my face.
Well maybe not a smile, more like a nutella-covered “it’s too damn early for any of this to be happening” smirk.