You KNOW I love a guest post. Today’s comes from a friend from my performing arts days. I know you are going to love it. And ladies, I know many of you will commiserate.
I’ll be back Sunday witha rage post. 🙂
Love, Beth
Image stolen from this site. It has loads of tightening tips!
Dear Makeup Guru Friends:
Do any of you have advice for hooded eyelids? I’m not talking about what makeup influencers consider hooded eyelids.
I’m talking about 40-year-old, wrinkly, swamp witch eyelids on a solid decline to medically necessary blepharoplasty.
Even when I cake the eye makeup on, it just disappears as soon as I open my eyes.
Will false eyelashes help, or will my lids just move them around until I have a unibrow?
Do I just need to Botox my eyebrows two inches higher to stretch everything out?
And don’t go giving me the “Don’t rub your eyes when cleaning; just tap, tap, tap the eye cream on” advice either. That advice is for 20 year olds and gals with eyelids like SharonSaysSo. These droopy dogs are 100 percent genetic. No amount of gentle touching is going to save these turkey gizzards.
Asking mostly for my right eye, but ol’ lefty isn’t too far behind.
What I’m really asking is this: When I’m 45 and am using binder clips glued to my glasses to keep these monstrosities in place, will you guys still love me?
I’ve created a handy chart for you to help in your decision making.
Look. Listen. We all had to get vaccinated to start school. What is the sudden problem? And you don’t want to show proof? We’ve all had to show proof of vaccinations our whole lives for school. It’s a public safety issue.
We also have had to show proof of identity when flying. And driving. And returning to the country. And voting in many places. (Hey, Georgia!)
So what’s the big deal with vaccine passports? We’ve had vaccine records for years!
We already have government mandates for safety (OSHA, seat belts, helmets, speed limits, etc.).
But some of those things only protect the individual, while others protect, well, others.
Vaccines protect you and others. Many diseases are gone because of vaccines.
Please get yours so we can all get back to normal. And so, you know, you won’t DIE.
I would like to propose Five Text Languages. I’m pretty sure everyone I know falls into one of these categories.
Actual words
Gif
Emoji
Bitmoji
None
Words: I text in full sentences with proper grammar and punctuation. (Of course I do.) Gideon does too. Dominic texts in words without grammar or punctuation, and I want to die.
Gif: My niece Chelsea is definitely a Gif fan. This is my second favorite way to communicate.
Emoji: Eddie is an emoji user. And sometimes I can’t figure out what he means.
Bitmoji: Trish the Human is a bitmoji fan, as is my new friend Andy. (A discussion with him was the inspiration for this post.)
None, aka radio silence: This style is no style at all because these people DON’T TEXT back for DAYS, if ever. Brian and Edgar, I’m looking at you.
Which one are you?
I’m guessing you use words because you are an author.
Gideon and I look happy. Of course, I took this just as we arrived. Ignorance is bliss.
Dear Six Flags Management:
My son and I visited Six Flags Over Georgia yesterday. A Saturday in June. We must have been high to think that was a good idea.
You can’t do anything about the sun or the heat, but you CAN do loads about the rest of the experience.
My complaints fall into three categories: customer service, your app and basic human needs.
1. Customer service
You have none. Not a single person working there wanted to work there. That was clear. And some who were “working” were not.
Case in point: Macho Nacho.
We went into the restaurant at 1:14 p.m. — prime lunch time. Though there are two sides, only one side was open — despite the fact that there was food out and ready to go on the unmanned side AND you clearly had the staff on hand.
A few minutes later, four employees came in with Icees and stood around watching the others work.
It was at this point that I went partial Karen and emailed guest relations.
Meanwhile, my son faded into oblivion.
One other thing: If you are going to advertise that you have guacamole, please have guacamole.
2. The Six Flags app
As I am a diamond member, you send me surveys all the time. You always ask about the app. I always tell you it sucks.
Why? It’s useless. It doesn’t provide any information you can’t get inside the park all over the place.
You know what makes a theme park app useful? Ride wait times. Every other theme park app has them.
Not yours.
Plus, you have to have cell service to use the app. Service in your park is nonexistent. And your WiFi?
Right.
One of the incentives to use the app is the chance to earn points with checkins. (What these points go toward is a mystery, but whatever.)
Great, right? Haha! No.
“Too far away?!” I’m IN THE LINE.
3. Basic human needs
People need food, clothing and shelter.
I would argue that you deprived us of the first for longer than necessary (see Complaint No. 1).
No. 2 is not applicable here. I live in the South. I know how to dress for a day at the theme park.
No. 3, though, is applicable when it comes to the rides. There is no reason you can’t have canopies over the lines for the rides.
We wanted to go on the Goliath, but the wait time appeared to be an hour in the broiling sun.
I would argue that hand sanitizer is now a basic human need. Why have sanitizing stations when you don’t fill them regularly? We tried five before we found one with fluid.
Also bathrooms need to be stocked with toilet paper. I can’t believe I have to tell you that.
After one ride and lunch, we were ready to leave.
Gideon: I’ve had enough for today. Let’s go and come back on a weekday or some night. Me: Good plan.
Please don’t send me an after-visit survey unless you really are planning to implement changes.
I’m surprised if I have any still. My last post was June 1. That’s more than three weeks: The longest dry spell in years.
In my defense, I’ve been very busy trying to stay alive.
Both of my children are now driving.
Each child presents a different patience challenge.
Gideon has a hard time with turns. And curbs.
Dominic doesn’t like stop signs. Or using his turn signal.
I sit (mostly) quietly in my seat concentrating on my heart rate. I try not to go for the grab handle (known as the “oh shit” handle) or stomp on the imaginary brake.
All that’s fine; they are learning.
But then, when I’m driving, I’m subjected to a critique:
Dominic from the back seat: Did you use your turn signal? Me: Yes!
Gideon on the way to the store: You took that turn pretty fast! Me: (side eye)
I am sure you are a lovely person. I appreciate your commitment to football. I am impressed by your communication skills.
However.
I am not as committed to football as you are. I never wanted to be a sports mom. But now that I am one, I want to remind you that my son is in school to get an education.
Practices five afternoons a week and three mornings is a bit much, don’t you think?
You don’t?
Ok.
Have you seen No. 27’s grades? Granted, they were on the downhill slide before football entered the picture.
But now he’s really got an excuse to be behind.
And for what? So he can stand around for a few hours on a Friday night?
Yes, yes, I know. He needs to learn. To pay his dues. To wait his turn.
I guess it will help him learn teamwork and time-management skills.
And there are worse places than a stadium to be on a pleasant Friday night.
Thank you for sharing with me the link to the car you want.
I regret to inform you that we are not going to get you a car at this time.
There are three very good reasons for this decision:
You do not yet have your license. You only have a permit until September.
You haven’t saved up enough money.
You are failing four out of seven classes.
Also, a MUSTANG? As a teenaged boy? A teenaged boy with terrible grades? You will not be able to afford the insurance. We will not be able to afford the insurance.
You said you wanted a car to be able to drive yourself to football practice, thus making it easier for us.
Thank you for your concern.
What I can offer you is my bus pass. The No. 25 goes right to your school.
Love,
Mama
*Thanks, Tracy Chapman. (Now try to get that song out of your head.)
Observe and report 