Don't Be Afraid If You Hear Voices

Every three to six months the black fuzzy outgrowth on my upper lip hits the right level of distracting in the car mirror and I decide it's time to wage another battle on my mustache. Of course, whatever attempt I do to make myself slightly more feminine becomes a moot point when unbecoming peach fuzz is replaced by either: A)gigantic red welts from waxing/threading; or B)gleaming pink blisters along my lip line courtesy of the Nair Corporation. Last night, I opted for option B. The point of this paragraph? Not much really, except that I now look like I mistook my curling iron for lip liner and it's therapeutic to acknowledge it formally.


Jess came up this weekend (yay), which translated to my quarterly allotment of having a life and being more interesting than normal (aka not much). Between attempts at Gossip Girl marathoning and the typical GH rounds, we've managed to squeeze in a trip to SF and eat delicious dinner at Butterfly on Pier 33. General highlights of the evening:

1. Poster girls for "Beware the MyFace Angles": After the initial confusion as to why a group of mildly over-aged/weight women were dressed up in extremely under-age/sized clothing with beauty pageant sashes (Mrs. America contest was brought up as a potential explanation but nixed quickly), drunken shrieking cued us in that one lovely individual was getting married very soon. The two stall bathroom at the restaurant, unfortunately, meant that odds were against us in terms avoiding the crossfire of champagne infused estrogen overloading hysteria. My first trip to the restroom, I was privy to an improvised performance for the restaurant staff of "Yankee Doodle" which included plenty of jiggling and clapping. ("Party in the haallway. Doo Da. Doo Da.") A second trip meant that Jess and I are now officially in the know that Girl XXX has been cheating on her husband with Guy XXX and that is SO WRONG. And a blue Jessica McClintock is THE BEST prom dress ever paired with half strap/half shoe silver shoes. Especially when compared to the slutty stuff teenagers are wearing today. (Their misquoted words, not mine).

2. What Personal Hygeine? Stupidly, I decided that it was a great idea to be all "fashion over comfort" for once and don on incredibly blister-inducing heels. Eventually, I couldn't take it anymore and opted to walk in my bare feet along the Embarcadero. My nostalgia for our Japan trip increased tenfold with the heightened awareness of the copious amounts of spit on city sidewalks.

3. Dessert Had my first beignet ever. Oh. My. God. Mentally kowtowing to Jess's cousin Liz as of this moment for hooking it up. Anyone who actually knows how to make them - be my friend please?