Things I will be mentioning in this post:

That eye makeup remover pads should be in your life. I like the Almay ones. Make sure you don’t buy the oily ones; the oil gets in your eyes and it’s annoying. Stay oil-free. You buy them from Priceline, and they are little round cottony pads doused in remover and they come in a little purple tub, and they will decrease your eye makeup removal time and energy by up to 675%. I have been using them for around two years, and as someone who often wears Too Much Eye Makeup Because It Is Fun and Also Her Job Kind Of, they are marvelous for removing stubborn eyeliner and smoky-eye-ness and that thing I tried to pull off with my Napoleon loose dust that I saw in Nylon magazine where the girl had red glitter everywhere, except that it looked rad on her, probably because she is a model and a makeup artist did hers. All you do is press the pad on your eye for ten seconds and then gently wipe. It’ll take a few wipes, (BE GENTLE, PLEASE, UNLIKE THIS CAPS LOCK) but it’ll all go, and then when you wash your face, the sneaky bits of leftover mascara and liner will even be forced to shove off, and then all you are left with are your pretty, clean little eyes, and not some wild-tramp-with-far-too-much-eyeliner-that-has-smudged-everywhere, eyes. (Who invited her, anyway?)

Being Almay, they won’t irritate because Almay is all
hypo-allergenic. Which is good to know, cause any eye makeup remover
that stings and hurts and carries on like a fool should be shot. * That
I got the gels on my toes re-done today, and I think I am finally sick
of that coral colour I have had for a year straight because I opted for
a soft lavender (Purple polish! The craziness!) that makes my feet look
tanned and my toes look like yummy, neat little lollies. * That I won a lovely award for
fruitybeauty last week from the fine foxes at beauty directory/beauty heaven, and for that I am honoured.*  That I had
too much green tea today, hence the rambling.

Things I won’t be mentioning in this post:

That I discovered God’s real gift to women, and surprisingly it wasn’t
Clive Owens. It was dark chocolate coated goji berries in the health
food store and I know, because I inhaled 3/4 of the pack today under
the grossly delusional belief that it was a ‘healthy’ snack because
both contain ‘antioxidants’ meaning that I would not suffer from ‘more
fat’ as a result of packing in ten at a time. * That your comments,
sentiments and kind words in response to my post last
week were mind-boggingly beautiful and excellent and glorious and
exquisite and funny and clever and cool and basically, fruits, you rock
more than ayers. I feel extraordinarily lucky to be the recipient of
such support, and from such exceptional people. In short, as Aretha
Franklin once said: You make me feel like a natural fruit. * That I paid two men $100
to clean my one bedroom apartment, even though I should’ve/could’ve done it myself and
my mum will be very disappointed in me when she reads this, perhaps
even more than the time I broke the Good Vase that she bought from
Venice because I was rollerskating inside. * That those who continue to spit and dribble venom in their comments don’t realise that I can see that they write under different names from the same IP address. And guess what! Agreeing with your own comments as five different people is really, really sad. * That
sometimes I fight the urge to hug little old men who walk along all
cute and small and with hats that match their vests and vests that match their shoes,
smiling for no reason, and to no-one but just because they are hopelessly, beautifully happy.