<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155</id><updated>2012-02-16T18:28:30.472-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Makeup and Porn.</title><subtitle type='html'>Lipstick, Dildos and Two Friends With Allergies on a Quest to Stick to a Gluten-Free Diet</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>108</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-4420263156251279866</id><published>2008-02-05T22:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-06T23:40:18.485-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Everything is Wrong.</title><content type='html'>Wow. I kind of forgot about this blog. It's hard to write random blog posts to you, Amy, when we talk on the phone like 300 times a day. It's not like I have anything new to type...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still have my stupid job. I still fucking hate it. My boss was gone for a few weeks and I was deadly ill, but now that we're both back in the office he is bugging the shit out of me. I want him to leave the art department permanently and let me and Coop just run the joint. He is completely out of the loop and driving me nuts with his ridiculous directions. I have no major stories to back this bitching up, but it's always the same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, I'm having all my health issues, which I won't go into again. But they're rubbing me the wrong way along with everything else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And to top things off, I think fucking Hillary is going to get the nomination over Obama...which pisses me the hell off. I was at the laundromat earlier, watching the returns come in, and I got SO excited when they showed all the states that Obama had won. He won so many more than Hillary, it was amazing. But he was winning all the small states, which means he got fewer delegate votes than Hillary, which means come November I'm going to have to vote for the lesser of two evils yet AGAIN. I was so excited to maybe just ONCE have the possibility of voting for someone I actually WANTED to vote for rather than a damned robot. Boo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's enough bitching for now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-4420263156251279866?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/4420263156251279866/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=4420263156251279866' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/4420263156251279866'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/4420263156251279866'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2008/02/everything-is-wrong.html' title='Everything is Wrong.'/><author><name>Buck</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06541339880746939682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-1032492158382669755</id><published>2008-01-07T19:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-07T20:35:15.148-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Officially on a Diet.</title><content type='html'>So ever since my father told me that I looked fat in the pictures that my mom and I took while she was here, I've been contemplating losing about 5-10 pounds. You know this.  So in any case, my fat Asian ass decided this weekend to go and buy some Lean Cuisines.  I mean, every girl at my job is trying to be skinny, so our communal refrigerator is stocked with Lean Cuisines, fat- free dressing, and all kinds of raw vegetables. All of the girls go "out" for lunch, bringing back salads with NO dressing, and then take their fat-free dressings and put a tablespoon of it into their greens, and call it a lunch.  My friend, who is on a strict diet and works out almost every single day, convinced me that eating these low-cal Lean Cuisine meals would really help me to lose some weight. Safeway was having a sale on these frozen lunches, which are packaged in these super tiny boxes... so I bought six of them.  The funny thing was that since they were on sale, the freezer was practically empty. The only meals that were left were the not-so-good tasting ones, like chicken with vegetables. We looked at the sections that were especially sparce, and apparently everyone who is on a diet was interested in eating the Lean Cuisine pizzas, steak and cheese, and all of the other fatty sounding meals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In any case, I was really proud of myself for buying some, and decided that starting today, I would eat healthy.  I got to work and ate some yogurt, granola and honey for breakfast. By 11 a.m., I was ready to eat my lunch.  At noon, I went and microwaved my swedish meatball and pasta meal. I finished, and was ravenous.  Normally, I stuff a container with whatever it was that I ate the night before-- macaroni and cheese, spaghetti, lasagna, or rice and sausage-- so this was a serious issue for me.  By 2 p.m., I was scouring my desk for something else to eat, and found a Korean Choco-pie. That's like a Moonpie. Then, one of the girls on my team brings out this big ass thing of cookies she brought from Taiwan, and I started eating those. Then, I went downstairs to meet with another department, and ate a huge handful of Skittles. By the time 5 p.m. came around, I was so cranky and hungry that I just jumped ship and went home.  I was completely nauseated from being on the train for so long with no food in my stomach that I came home and ate spaghetti with sausage, mushrooms, parmesan, and a tomato and basil bread thing that we got from the farmer's market.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm such a pig, and this diet isn't working.  My friend told me that I needed to bring something aside from the Lean Cuisine, like apples or oranges, or a salad. So much for my quick fix, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I have to tell you how funny it was today when you called me every other hour to tell me the latest about your mom's visit. Isn't it awful? I feel like such an ungrateful bitch when I get annoyed by my mom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway. Check the progress of my new site. The religious ads are now gone from the home page. Happy sushi-eating!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-1032492158382669755?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/1032492158382669755/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=1032492158382669755' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/1032492158382669755'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/1032492158382669755'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2008/01/im-officially-on-diet.html' title='I&apos;m Officially on a Diet.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-6962366756240967901</id><published>2007-12-31T23:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-31T23:45:50.303-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Secret is a Crock of Shit.</title><content type='html'>So after watching the DVD of The Secret, I decided that it was the dumbest thing on the planet. This proves that what Oprah touts isn't always what's good. She tries to push products that are soul-happy, but really doesn't get the job done.  So I'm happy for you about your potential in-person job interview in the coming week. It's almost the new year, so I'm hoping that it'll bring you some good financial luck. Let's start with the lotto drawing tonight. Did it happen yet? And why am I still sitting on my ass when it's almost midnight? I haven't gone out on New Years Eve since I was 20 or something. It's so sad. I think you're at a party tonight. I'm sure I'll hear from you at midnight. Happy New Year!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So let's talk more in-depth about the Secret. Really, you and I both know that it's not really a secret. It's just a big, stupid farce, and only morons will benefit from this. This is the reason why I won't ever benefit from it. I'm way too negative. This might also be the reason why I can't get promoted, and am perpetually unhappy. Too bad The Secret isn't something you can drink or shoot up or something.  If it was, then we could just take doses of it and change our lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh. Since I don't have anything going for my own product site, let me tell you about a couple of things I found for my hair today.  I went to Walgreens and picked up this coconut oil hair treatment from the ethnic hair care section. You know how I complain that everything in California is ridiculously expensive? This wasn't. It's called Softee Coconut Oil for Hair. And, it cost me one dollar. That's right. But if you're not using it with a light hand, you're screwed and your hair will end up looking like a fucking grease pit.  I literally used a tiny drop of it and put it on the ends of my hair and I loved it. And it smells like coconut.  Do you even care about coconut oil for the hair since you shave your head?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Following in the coconut theme, I decided to cook coconut rice and thai green curry chicken. They all contained cans and cans of coconut milk. Have I ever given you a recipe for some kick ass coconut rice? I think I have, so I'll skip it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's almost midnight, and disgustingly enough, I haven't even showered yet. I have to go and do that before you call, and I have 15 minutes. So this will be the last blog of 2007. Hopefully we can get back into the swing of things starting in January. I sure hope you get to leave the adult industry this coming new year. But by God. Then we'll have to rename our blog "Makeup and Clothes."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not so interesting.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-6962366756240967901?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/6962366756240967901/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=6962366756240967901' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/6962366756240967901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/6962366756240967901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/12/secret-is-crock-of-shit.html' title='The Secret is a Crock of Shit.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-1263034683493650933</id><published>2007-12-22T11:34:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-22T11:45:37.985-08:00</updated><title type='text'>One-sided Conversation.</title><content type='html'>Hey there. I know this blog has turned into a one-woman show and I apologize. I'm just back into my full-on hate-my-job mood and I don't want to expend any more energy than I have to thinking or writing about that place. I was on a location shoot all day yesterday and I'm exhausted. When I got back to my office after the shoot, I saw an email from my Boss requesting some images. He had already left for the day. I had already put in nine hours and it was the Friday before Xmas weekend. So I didn't do anything about his email. I wonder if he forgot that I won't be in until January. Maybe he'll have to get off his ass and do something on his own. The horror.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, I'm really fucking tired of having to deal with his affair. Yes, his husband is out of the picture, so it's no longer an affair. But the hooker is around the office ALL THE TIME. When he's in town, he lives with the Boss. And lately, he's always in town, so maybe he actually does just LIVE with the Boss. I just hate that it's always there, in our faces, and no one says anything about it. It's totally going to blow up in everyone's faces.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been applying to jobs again. Like three in the past 36 hours. One's not here in LA, it's up in SF, so you would totally kill me if something came of it. But their application process is actually really interesting and challenging, so I'm still going to try and go for it. It's much more than "fill out this form."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so ready to eat holiday meals. I just found out that Mikey will be back in town after Xmas, so I think we'll hang out on New Year's. I won't have to be alone, crying, again! He won't be back in time for your Xmas dinner, though. I know he's sad about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have tons to do this weekend before all the shenanigans begin. I need to get off my ass.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-1263034683493650933?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/1263034683493650933/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=1263034683493650933' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/1263034683493650933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/1263034683493650933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/12/one-sided-conversation.html' title='One-sided Conversation.'/><author><name>Buck</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06541339880746939682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-3814467023379906195</id><published>2007-12-16T20:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-16T20:07:53.045-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sectional Madness!</title><content type='html'>I can't tell you how happy I am with our new sectional. Even though we won't repeat where we got it (it's still embarrassing, even though we paid over $2K for it), I have to tell you that sometimes it doesn't matter where you get stuff. Sometimes you have some damn good luck. So this afternoon, I made tortilla soup and just made a huge vat of chili, cornbread, and rice. I wish you lived closer. Then you could just come over every night for dinner. I'm planning on bringing my chili to work tomorrow to share. Wanna come?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so glad it'll be the holiday soon. What sucks is that after this long stretch of days off (not in my case), we won't have another holiday to look forward to until Memorial Day.  Maybe we'll win that raffle lottery and then we'll have the rest of our lives off. Just maybe. Maybe we'll both win. Then we'll really get to have time off from work. My ass would quit in a heartbeat, but I wouldn't be lazy about it. I would open a restaurant or something small. Like a little cart. And then I'd stroll around Hawaii with it, like the churro woman.  In it, I would have chili and gumbo served over steaming hot basmati rice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I forgot the story I was going to tell you about earlier this afternoon. You told me to blog about it, but now I can't remember. And, now it's time to eat chili. It's been simmering on the stove since 6 p.m.  I'm still full from tortilla soup, but as always, I'll eat regardless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so fat.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-3814467023379906195?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/3814467023379906195/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=3814467023379906195' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/3814467023379906195'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/3814467023379906195'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/12/sectional-madness.html' title='Sectional Madness!'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-8646991252514865064</id><published>2007-12-05T21:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-05T21:29:26.568-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fair Trades.</title><content type='html'>I know you read these as well as my e-mails, but I'll go more into detail about the disappointment I felt today when I opened this big ass box that came for me from my old skin care company. I do what I deem "fair trading." This means that when I hook someone up with some product and they have something that I want, we can make a fair trade.  Such was the case with me and my old skin care company. You know that I'm completely obsessed with the product that my skin care company produced, and use it every single day.  Imagine my excitement when one of the girls from the corporate office e-mailed me to tell me that she wanted to trade product for product! I was elated.  So I scurried around the office with her wish list, and started putting all kinds of goodies into a box for her. And shipped it that day.  She did the same.  I should have been suspicious when she lightly glazed over my wish list, and then proceeded to tell me that she had acquired a whole bunch of "great stuff" for me, and would be shipping it later that day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two days later.  My receptionist calls and e-mails me to tell me that my package has arrived. It's big. I run back to my desk and rip the box open, anticipating all kinds of goodies and professional sized skin care product, and all I see is bubble bag. I reach into the bottom of the box, and pull out samples. Paper samples. And a couple of "deluxe samples."  Now "deluxe samples" can sometimes be good. They're usually the full component, shrinked down into really cute sizes. This was not the case here. I don't know if the company is changing its ways and becoming cheap, but these "deluxe samples" were about half the size of my pinkie, or put into tiny crack cocaine-sized ziploc bags. Not cute at all.  Then, to make matters worse, she put in these old ass products. The company has done some major revamping to the components they used, and I know each of them like the back of my hand since I've been using them for years. She must not have known that I was that smart because she sent me old product. She even had the audacity to send me product that was expired.  So in my anger, I went home and called my real hookup from the company and told her how I had been ripped off by her corporate office in my trade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank God she had some major sympathy for me. She's meeting me this Friday to grant me all of the wishes on my wishlist. She's a savior. So the moral of the story is, some people are just plain bitches. I could have sent those things to people I really care for and like, but I thought I was getting a fair trade. I almost want to e-mail her a specific wish list and demand that she send me the shit I really want. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was my story. I was completely livid all the way home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of home, how about this plan for Christmas Eve and Christmas? Would it be acceptable if Lemonjello and I come to the city on Christmas Eve to meet you and then take you out to dinner, and then on Christmas you come to my house to eat? That way, we can spend the whole holiday together. It's up to you. That way, we'll get the moment in the city and then also have the suburban dinner and movie watching at the same time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tell me what you think. I'm still raging about that shitty package I got today, so I'm going to sit and draft her an e-mail, demanding that she send me product that wasn't repackaged two years ago.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-8646991252514865064?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/8646991252514865064/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=8646991252514865064' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/8646991252514865064'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/8646991252514865064'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/12/fair-trades.html' title='Fair Trades.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-1666815318141094054</id><published>2007-12-03T21:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-03T21:39:44.344-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Secret.</title><content type='html'>Embarrassment. I have to tell you that I was so desperate to be rich and successful after reading Susan Miller's horoscope that I got &lt;a href="http://www.thesecret.tv/"&gt;The Secret &lt;/a&gt;this weekend. There was a girl at my work who told me to buy it a long time ago, and I was embarrassed because I normally don't fall for the Oprah hype. But I've come to my wit's end about my lame ass life in cosmetics, and decided that I needed self-help. But I haven't even gotten through the acknowledgements in the beginning of the book yet, so I couldn't even tell you what "the secret" was.  In any case, let's not talk about the secret. Let's talk about whether or not there was food at your 2nd work party tonight. Well, so was there?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me tell you something about cosmetics corporate America. It's getting on my last fucking nerve, but I really want to stay in it because of something I know and read about a while ago. Even when we were in the Great Depression, women were still really vain about the way they looked, so the one industry that stayed alive during that time was cosmetics and hair. Isn't that amazing? It's so true. So even if we have the worst recession ever, I think my company will still be making millions, or even billions at that time. And a company like MAC would stay around, even if we were all broke. The makeup there is just &lt;em&gt;that&lt;/em&gt; good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know what else is good about being in this industry? Swapping. You tend to have a bunch of friends linked to this industry, so you get anything you want. For example, I have contacts at my old skin care company. I love their products, so I just ask people I know from there to hook me up with things, and in return, I get all kinds of stuff from them. And since retail and beauty are closely knit, I have friends at work who know other people in the industry who send all kinds of Friends and Family discounts to me each season. So it's cheap clothes, makeup, and skincare product all in one! I love it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to go and read about the fucking secret now. But first, I have to apply this mega zit cream to that monstrosity on my chin that you saw earlier.  Hope you had good eats. I'm ready to go to bed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-1666815318141094054?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/1666815318141094054/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=1666815318141094054' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/1666815318141094054'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/1666815318141094054'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/12/secret.html' title='The Secret.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-4718922814733278027</id><published>2007-12-01T21:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-02T20:09:55.452-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My new career.</title><content type='html'>Okay. So Susan Miller from &lt;a href="http://www.astrologyzone.com/"&gt;astrologyzone.com &lt;/a&gt;is almost always dead-on when it comes to my horoscope. So I read it today, and guess what it says?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;At work, your professional status will climb higher with each successive&lt;br /&gt;day. Mars will be shining at the very top of your chart, increasing your&lt;br /&gt;visibility and upping your chances for an important promotion. While Mars&lt;br /&gt;is, admittedly, retrograde and therefore weaker, he is still in your career&lt;br /&gt;house and will do as much as he can. Your career will really take off when&lt;br /&gt;Mars is back in good condition in your career house, so keep these dates in&lt;br /&gt;mind: March 4 to May 9. That's when you'll take off like a rocket, getting&lt;br /&gt;all the approvals you need, unlike now when you might feel a little stymied&lt;br /&gt;by others' delay in getting back to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jackpot! This means that I might get that promotion I've been dying for. But who knows if that'll happen. There are so many changes happening within my whacked out company that I don't even know if I'll have a job after January, but I sure hope so. I've been waiting for this promotion forever. And, since we just went and bought that nice sectional/ottoman today, I better be making more money so that I can help to pay it off. We got financing for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that's all. I got my cranberry lotion today, so I'm just about the happiest person on the planet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-4718922814733278027?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/4718922814733278027/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=4718922814733278027' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/4718922814733278027'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/4718922814733278027'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/12/my-new-career.html' title='My new career.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-1841544797521433557</id><published>2007-11-30T20:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-30T21:17:30.646-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sazon.</title><content type='html'>Hi hi,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right about now, you're at a show with that doctor guy. I hope you're having fun. My ass is at home, dreaming about the Kiehl's Limited Edition Cranberry Hand and Body Lotion. I'm not kidding. I came home, at Chipotle, made some mini chocolate chip cookies, did some laundry, paid my allergist bill, and then sat down here and decided to blog to you because I really, really want that lotion. And you're the only person who can understand my unhealthy fascination with all things cranberry.  Guess what? We finally turned on the heat for the first time today. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember how I was telling you that the dog we're watching is really mellow and just lays down all day? Well, after we turned on the heat, the dog just started acting like a real dog. She was full of energy, eating, running around, and being excited. We think that we kept the house too cold, and she just didn't want to get up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you find that when you know you don't have to work the next day you feel like you have a lot more energy? Every single day this week, I've come home and just wanted to go to sleep. Since I know that tomorrow is a Saturday, I have much more energy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm even doing laundry. And running the dishwasher. And making cookies.&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of cookies, I wonder if my company will let me off on Christmas Eve? If they won't, then how the hell are we going to do our traditional Christmas Eve dinner and last minute shopping around the city? Actually, we're not doing any shopping this Christmas. Our gift is going to be a sectional for our living room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of a sudden, I'm feeling really dizzy and sick. I think I'm going to pump some Emergen-C into my system now. Let me know how that Sazon works out for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm a fan.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-1841544797521433557?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/1841544797521433557/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=1841544797521433557' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/1841544797521433557'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/1841544797521433557'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/11/sazon.html' title='Sazon.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-8691003001973679071</id><published>2007-11-28T14:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-28T14:22:39.107-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Waiting....</title><content type='html'>I'm at home waiting for the cable guy to show up. I came home at 11:30 this morning and now it's 2:15. I did laundry. I am DREADING my tax appointment at 4. Shivers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You bought me something on ebay? I have no idea either. What surprises do you have in store for me? I will try my hardest to remember porn for your friend. It's tough to nab stuff when everyone's around. I think I'm skipping TV night with the girls tonight, so hopefully I'll get some sleep and actually make it into work early tomorrow so I can shoplift DVDs. Actually, I shouldn't try to be so shady about it. I think I'm one of the few there who never takes movies or gives them to people. I need to get my hands on the new one so we can watch me in the behind the scenes feature. Bwahaha!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am afraid of your new obsession with AZNTV. Soon you'll be one of those women on the bus who talk really loudly in a language I don't understand while carrying little pink bags from Chinatown. Be careful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was going to tell you a story, but I can't remember now. I didn't do a damned thing at work this morning, so I have no new bits of drama.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, question. Since I'm trying to pay off debt, do you think I should continue to pay extra on all my cards, or should I pay a LOT more on the one evil card and deal with the other two once the big one is empty? Your thoughts?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-8691003001973679071?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/8691003001973679071/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=8691003001973679071' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/8691003001973679071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/8691003001973679071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/11/waiting.html' title='Waiting....'/><author><name>Buck</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06541339880746939682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-199485402149610264</id><published>2007-11-27T20:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-27T20:21:45.753-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My New Obsession. You'll Hate This.</title><content type='html'>I KNEW there was some drama happening at your job! It's just been so long since I've heard anything. I knew it was brewing. While you're at work freezing, I'm having a menopausal meltdown at my job. One minute I'm hot, the other minute I'm freezing and putting the layers back on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have so much work to do, by the way. And what makes me mad is that it's all work that the Boss doesn't feel like doing. This means that I get all of the shit work. You know how much I hate spreadsheets. My new role means more and more and more spreadsheets. I hate them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my new obsession is this show on AZNTV called "Coconut Coast." It's this really flamboyant guy named Reza Mahammad who is cooking all kinds of yummy Indian-inspired food, and the excitement is his personality. I have him recorded on DVR, just so you can come to my house and watch it. Better yet, set your DVR to record the show. You MUST watch it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_Oc5qgxIQe8o/R0zsMbBjCpI/AAAAAAAAADg/eNy5Jn0fje8/s1600-h/reza.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_Oc5qgxIQe8o/R0zsMbBjCpI/AAAAAAAAADg/eNy5Jn0fje8/s320/reza.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5137740973079726738" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of your DVR, I hope it gets fixed. And your DVD player. And your Mac. And your taxes. And your student loans. And your printer. Speaking of stuff, your thing from ebay just shipped. I got an email today. It was so long ago that I don't even remember what it was that I bought for you. In any case, it's on its way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so tired that I think that I might be coming down with the flu. I hope I am, really. This dog is making me sick, too. I sit and sneeze all day long. And it acts like a cat. And I love me some animals, but I think this one is depressed. She just sits and stares. She doesn't even get excited over me coming home. Who doesn't get excited when I come home? Crazy ass mutt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that's all for now. I can't wait for lunch on Friday. Bring the porn so that I can send it to my friend Eddie.  I'll bring the goods I promised you. I can't remember what they are, so remind me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-199485402149610264?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/199485402149610264/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=199485402149610264' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/199485402149610264'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/199485402149610264'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/11/my-new-obsession-youll-hate-this.html' title='My New Obsession. You&apos;ll Hate This.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_Oc5qgxIQe8o/R0zsMbBjCpI/AAAAAAAAADg/eNy5Jn0fje8/s72-c/reza.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-5802557426070697501</id><published>2007-11-26T17:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-26T17:47:04.036-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Random Monday Rant</title><content type='html'>So. Here are two minor, but still offensive, stories that happened in my office today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, you know that I'm the second person in my office every day, after the shipping guy who comes in before 7. So I get to work a little after 7 and go to my floor, where I'm the only one for about 2 hours (you know I love that). This morning was particularly chilly (by my LA standard, at least) and I was wearing a long sleeve shirt, a vest, and the scarf you bought me so I could dress up like a terrorist. We have a freight elevator in my building that opens at the end of my floor, about 25 feet from my desk. When the doors are open and it's cold outside, we get this freezing breeze from the elevator shaft that rolls through our floor. The thing is, I'm the only one it hits. So I sit at my desk with a numb arm and hand, shaking, all day long. Since I'm the first one in and it's colder in the morning, I closed the doors in order to block the wind chill factor. And since it's the art department, you know it's really dark as it is, but with the doors shut it's pitch black. What do I care, as long as I'm not cold, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the Boss comes in two hours later and sees the doors closed. He goes, "God it is SO DARK in here. It's ridiculous! Do you mind if I open the doors or are you going to burst into flames?" Like an asshole. So I say, "I don't mind the light at all, but when the doors are open, I freeze from the breeze." So he stands there for a second, decides HE doesn't feel a breeze, and opens the doors and walks away. Excuse me? I know it's dark, but his desk is allll the way on the other side of the office (where there are overhead lights), and on the opposite wall from the elevator opening. He's an ass. So I had to freeze all day, until I went outside for lunch and sweat through my clothes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second story...I hate this model. A lot. Actually, pretty much everyone hates this model in the office. He is the butt of most of our jokes. I think I read some passive-aggressive web text to you once where the writer was totally going after this model and it was hilarious. Anyway, the main part of my job is photo editing. I am responsible for picking the layouts that go on our site and to magazines and on boxes and whatnot. So this model, who thinks he's is the biggest thing porn has ever seen (even though he's as tall as you), recently signed a contract with us. Not only are we stuck with him, he is going to start producing his own films. Because of that, he thinks he is now PART of OUR company. Like he's a partner. I swear to god, if he becomes a partner, I'm walking. So anyway, since he's joined us, he's made all kinds of little diva demands and the latest seems to be that HE is picking the pictures of himself that we are allowed to use. Can you BELIEVE that? Like, he went to the Boss and asked to see (and HAVE) his full layouts that we shot a few months ago and he sent a list back saying which ones to use and for what. Like, use #whatever for my main shot, and #whatever for this ad and shit. So today I went through his stuff and did my normal edit for the member site (which is way bigger than what he picked) and I didn't even end up PICKING the ones he liked. He has no objectivity on the images because he's in them. Just because he likes an image does NOT mean he looks cute in it. And trust me, he didn't. But the fact that the Boss is allowing this REALLY pisses me off. When he told me about it last week, even Coop looked up from her desk and was like, "What the hell is HE picking his own shit for anyway??" and the Boss just walked away. Nice, right? Way to compromise my place in the company, asshole.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's all. Carry on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-5802557426070697501?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/5802557426070697501/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=5802557426070697501' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/5802557426070697501'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/5802557426070697501'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/11/random-monday-rant.html' title='Random Monday Rant'/><author><name>Buck</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06541339880746939682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-2825302229801251397</id><published>2007-11-21T15:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-21T15:56:53.290-08:00</updated><title type='text'>OOOOoooooooooooHHHHH!</title><content type='html'>WOW! We both had breaking news from our jobs today. Too bad I can't post mine here. I KNEW something would happen if the husband found out about the affair with the porno model. I love it. I anticipated coming home and cooking immediately, but I realized that I was suffocating from strange fumes from the oven when I was preheating it, and then remembered that I had seasoned two woks when my mom was here, and it dripped all over the bottom of the oven and I have to clean it up before cooking toxic gingerbread for Thanksgiving dinner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so excited for you guys to come to my place. It's like 70 degrees outside. I just walked home and almost died from the heat. I wish we had a nice cold Thanksgiving like back in the east. I hope you've gotten home. Call me so that you can give me the other breaking news you wanted to share when I was passing out from the stench of the train this afternoon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-2825302229801251397?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/2825302229801251397/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=2825302229801251397' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/2825302229801251397'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/2825302229801251397'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/11/ooooooooooooooohhhhh.html' title='OOOOoooooooooooHHHHH!'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-946180412159351005</id><published>2007-11-20T19:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-20T19:22:13.326-08:00</updated><title type='text'>BREAKING NEWS!!!</title><content type='html'>I know I've neglected our blog, and really disappointed our legions of fans, but I finally have something to write about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think, THINK, the Boss and his husband have split up. Insane! There was a secret meeting between the Boss and the Big Boss today, and they did it at the Big Boss's house instead of the office, so it was all weird and sneaky. It could have been about the amount or the lack our of holiday bonuses for all we knew. But then Coop IMed me and said she heard the Bitch on the phone earlier with the Boss saying, "I'm sorry it turned out that way." And then when the Boss came into work (at 2:30pm), the Bitch was on the phone with someone and when the Boss walked by, the Bitch said into the phone, "I'm sorry, but you're BREAKING UP...I can't hear you" all loud and trying to be funny or something. And the Boss had asked me to do a shoot last Saturday because he had to go to "couples counseling." I wanna know what's going on. The meeting could have been about how he needed more money to make his mortgage payments because he was too busy fucking one of our models to handle his marriage and now HE's the one getting fucked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Such drama. I feel bad for him. But then again...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-946180412159351005?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/946180412159351005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=946180412159351005' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/946180412159351005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/946180412159351005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/11/breaking-news.html' title='BREAKING NEWS!!!'/><author><name>Buck</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06541339880746939682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-8349798518498783673</id><published>2007-11-05T20:33:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-05T21:21:17.091-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Military Scarves for Everyone!</title><content type='html'>Since this is now my own little blog to you, I decided to out you. I have to show everyone what you got, and what you wore home from my job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_Oc5qgxIQe8o/Ry_vHN_ASiI/AAAAAAAAADI/Cupbkjr4sNU/s1600-h/scarf.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_Oc5qgxIQe8o/Ry_vHN_ASiI/AAAAAAAAADI/Cupbkjr4sNU/s320/scarf.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129581407890328098" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish this photo would show how it can wrap around your head, but I guess it's not the right one. OH! Here's the right one:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_Oc5qgxIQe8o/Ry_45N_ASkI/AAAAAAAAADY/KltMT8XNn6Y/s1600-h/L061030.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_Oc5qgxIQe8o/Ry_45N_ASkI/AAAAAAAAADY/KltMT8XNn6Y/s320/L061030.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129592162488437314" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that I've seen it on you, I think I have seen it around this city. How exciting! I've been on the fingerless glove trend for years now, and it's catching on fast.&lt;br /&gt;Do you know that since we had daylight savings, I am even more exhausted when I come home from work? I have a whole lot of energy when I get to work, and then by the time it's time to leave, I just want to die. I even fell asleep on the train on the way home today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so I'm going on a tangent already, which means that it's time to watch some DVR'd Prison Breaks now. I wanted to add some color to our site. I'm glad you like your shemaghs. Is that a plural word? I expect to see you wearing that every single time I see you from now on. And hello? My friends want some gay porn. Hook a sister up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-8349798518498783673?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/8349798518498783673/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=8349798518498783673' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/8349798518498783673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/8349798518498783673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/11/military-scarves-for-everyone.html' title='Military Scarves for Everyone!'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_Oc5qgxIQe8o/Ry_vHN_ASiI/AAAAAAAAADI/Cupbkjr4sNU/s72-c/scarf.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-7291845585979825221</id><published>2007-11-05T13:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-05T13:50:26.505-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Lady Who Smelled Like Ikea.</title><content type='html'>Good Morning.&lt;br /&gt;So I had written this blog this morning when I came in, but the system at work was screwed up, so I lost the whole thing. And now the excitement over what I was feeling when I came in this morning is gone. But I'll tell you anyway. I got on the train this morning, and normally, someone who has bad breath, body odor, ethnic food scents, or cigarette smells comes to sit beside me. Get this. This morning, someone got on the train and sat next to me and she smelled like IKEA! I mean, I could hardly contain my excitement! I LOVE the way Ikea smells. It's like cinnamon buns and Swedish meatballs, all in one. I was so euphoric on my way into the office. I just had to share.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that I'm here, I'm completely unmotivated. Trying to get the company from a million dollar company to a billion dollar company apparently takes a shitload of work. And, have I told you that lately there is a large exodus of people leaving the company for other opportunities? We must not be as great as we think. We suck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just ran over to the bank to deposit this very small amount of money into my account since I have $50 left over. I have to get back to looking at my spreadsheets. God, I hate numbers and spreadsheets. I'm in the wrong business, for sure.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-7291845585979825221?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/7291845585979825221/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=7291845585979825221' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/7291845585979825221'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/7291845585979825221'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/11/lady-who-smelled-like-ikea.html' title='The Lady Who Smelled Like Ikea.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-8385794617608759349</id><published>2007-11-04T12:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-04T13:00:26.706-08:00</updated><title type='text'>She Slipped Up on Daylight.</title><content type='html'>Hi! I know you're being a hermit this weekend since it's one of your few days off, so I didn't call you. Instead, I'm getting my place ready for Mom's visit next week. I'm so excited, yet so flustered because I realize that I have a ton of work to get done this week because I won't be in the entire time Mom is here. Yippeeee!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this weekend has been really productive. Seriously. I bought the cutest fingerless gloves (you know I have about 40 pairs of these- I'm completely obsessed) from World Market, along with a bunch of cute little notecards. I'm sick and tired of spending so much money on expensive Thank You cards. I found these for cheap. We also looked around for some furniture for my other bedroom. Not furniture to live on, but furniture to store all of my products. We were too cheap to buy real furniture (we're really trying to buy a house. Maybe 30 years from now), so we got a storage thing/cart for my product, and I love it. It's on wheels.  We came back and cleaned the house a bit, and did some rearranging. I'm secretly in the mood for some boba, but I don't know where the hell to go without having to drive. I'm making candied chicken tonight for dinner. Have I made it for you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I started writing a minute ago, I thought I would have a lot to say, but I don't. So I'm going to stop.  I totally don't want to break down next week like I did this past week, so I'm hoping that nobody sets me off.  I need a fucking promotion. How can anyone live in California and afford a $4 loaf of bread on these salaries?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-8385794617608759349?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/8385794617608759349/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=8385794617608759349' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/8385794617608759349'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/8385794617608759349'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/11/she-slipped-up-on-daylight.html' title='She Slipped Up on Daylight.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-6283259759032364646</id><published>2007-11-02T08:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-02T08:31:28.586-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Red-Headed Stepchild.</title><content type='html'>I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to neglect our baby over here on blogger. I just haven't had anything interesting to share. And when i do, it's so damned busy over here that I can't take the time to write about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's just the same old bullshit here in my office. People being extremely loud and rude, me buried under projects, people losing their minds. It's actually calmed down a little bit, but I still have a thousand things going at once.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So last night, for my other job, I decided to wear those wingtips I bought months ago. For the first time. I got like two blocks from my house and was in unbelievable pain. Like, I could barely walk. But I didn't have time to turn around and change. Amy, it was so bad. By the time I wobbled home, ALL of the skin had been ripped from the tops of BOTH of my pinky toes. They are RAW and exposed. I have them each double-bandaged today. So OW. I didn't think about wearing them in. But now that I had that much pain, I don't know if i can ever put them on again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, also, I was reminded last night after I got there that it was a special event night, so I had to stay later than normal. My day was 15 hours long. I was pissed. I went home and watched my DVRed Survivor and Ugly Betty. So it was closer to a 17 hour day. I didn't get to Grey's yet. I think I've given up on that show now. It's totally gone off in some retarded direction and I can't hang. But Betty is still good. Did you watch last night? "What do we want?!" "Integrated chocolates!!" "When do we want them?" "NOW!!" I laughed and laughed and laughed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you for sharing your Halloween office party pics with me. You are correct. I do hate Halloween, especially in this city. People don't know how to act. I went almost the whole day and night with forgetting it was even Halloween. Except Coop was wearing cat ears at work, which is something she would totally do, so I didn't even really notice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate &lt;a href="http://astrologyzone.com"&gt;astrologyzone&lt;/a&gt; now. Why does she have to confuse me so?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-6283259759032364646?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/6283259759032364646/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=6283259759032364646' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/6283259759032364646'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/6283259759032364646'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/11/red-headed-stepchild.html' title='Red-Headed Stepchild.'/><author><name>Buck</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06541339880746939682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-9135230204115021470</id><published>2007-11-01T19:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-01T19:43:00.732-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Blog.</title><content type='html'>Hello Buck? Where the hell are you? You've e-mailed me and I've talked to you today. Did you forget about our little stepchild blog site?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had the most fucked up day today. I was in a bad mood to start, and then when I got to work, I immediately started getting my shit together and actually had a long-term assignment to work toward. But then, as you know, my ass had to go to the Social Security office, and then the afternoon was shot. Who knew that at 11 in the morning, vagrants would be lined up there, demanding money?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, I meant to tell you. Since we're doing a mass restructuring (we're trying to become a billion dollar company or something), we had to meet with the new leader today to discuss our "new" roles. Of course I thought this meant that I would get my promotion and be happy, just like the lady on &lt;a href="http://www.astrologyzone.com/"&gt;astrologyzone&lt;/a&gt; said. That wasn't the case. I mean, I love the new leader and everything, but he was telling us that he was going to bring all of these other people in, and it really sounded like I wasn't going anywhere. I really think he's an MBA snob, just like the HR people are in my company. I mean, it's actually pretty disgusting, if you think about it. I have a higher education- it's just not in business.  It's more useful than being in Business Administration. Granted, when the Boss asks me for gross margins, I have no fucking idea what she's talking about, but I really think that people who have their MBAs are always saying shit and asking questions to executives that they got straight from their textbooks and lectures. No kidding. I'm going to go and buy the most used MBA textbook from Harvard's Book Exchange, and I'll be able to schmooze like the best of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was in such a foul mood today that I scared the entire team. And, for good measure, I walked out when the day was done and didn't say goodbye to any of them. Working around a bunch of women everyday is not uplifting at all, just in case you want to know. I wish I could post the picture of the Halloween party we had yesterday. But then I would really lose my job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did I tell you how wasteful my company is? Let me let you in on a little secret. Since it's a "trend," the PR Department was talking about doing something "green" so that we could jump on the bandwagon of Ralph Lauren and some other giant fashion or beauty company. Meanwhile, we have the most packaging, ever. It's like 500 layers of packaging and plastic. And, you'd be glad to know that our office is SO wasteful. We have styrofoam cups (big boxes of them) that we use everyday. People don't use mugs.  We have one recycling bin that people use as a trash can, and people make color copies every single day. You should see the copy room. There's paper everywhere. People forget that they copied shit, or printed stuff out. Literally, there is so much paper all over the desks and what not that we would be named the biggest liars if someone was to do an undercover check on our level of greenness. I'm ashamed to be a part of such a company, but look out! If in the next month you see us doing a big promo and pretending to be eco-friendly, you know who told you it was a lie. A HUGE lie! We waste paper! We use styrofoam! We don't recycle! We have lots of trash and plastic packaging. Sometimes we even use tissue paper in our packaging! And, I've seen people using aerosol hair spray in the bathroom. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, most importantly, know that our company's philosophy was never anything about being environmentally-friendly. We just decided to do that in our last meeting. Look out, world! God- I wish I could tell everyone which company I worked for. It would be SHOCKING!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-9135230204115021470?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/9135230204115021470/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=9135230204115021470' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/9135230204115021470'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/9135230204115021470'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/11/my-blog.html' title='My Blog.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-4709862276367983384</id><published>2007-10-31T16:22:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-31T16:33:43.290-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Halloween Humiliation.</title><content type='html'>OMG. I can't even tell you what I just witnessed at our company Halloween celebration. We have a costume contest by department, and everyone (except for mine) went all out. By default, all men (both gay and straight) were dressed in drag and had on a ton of our makeup.  You know how much I hate Halloween. If I remember correctly, you don't care for it, either. The only reason I went was to get out of work. Now I'm back at my desk and I have some more time before I leave. You don't know how much I just want to go home and go to sleep. Some of the costumes here were just embarrassing. I felt like I was back in elementary school where everyone was dressed like a fairy princess or a witch or a wizard. Embarrassment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway. We have also converted to a new recycling program here in my office, and now our normal trash cans are about the size of a pencil cup and the recycling bins are attached to them and are the size of a dumpster.  I have no idea what goes where. In my country, we don't recycle. We have one bin. And all trash goes into it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-4709862276367983384?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/4709862276367983384/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=4709862276367983384' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/4709862276367983384'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/4709862276367983384'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/10/halloween-humiliation.html' title='Halloween Humiliation.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-8102530782454281182</id><published>2007-10-29T09:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-29T12:00:50.648-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nail heaven.</title><content type='html'>Hi. So I just got back from getting my nails done across the street. I wanted out of there pretty quick so that I wouldn't be gone long from the office, but my stupid ass went there with no flip flops, so I had to leave there all prematurely with my running shoes on. Needless to say, the toes are a mess. What happened was that I was trying to leave, so I put on my socks and shoes. The lady expressed some concern that I would ruin my toes, so she made me take the socks and shoes off so that she could wrap them up in saran wrap. Now they're ruined.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway. So what sucks is that the people in my team are miserable. There is a real bitch at the top of our company who just can't stand one of the girls on my team. She makes it really obvious, and since she's pulling in the big bucks, she can. I hate that about cosmetics. If you're dumb, you're constantly trying to outshine the people who are smart, but if you're smart, you're low-key smart. It should be the other way around. Soon there's going to be a shakedown at my company. I can feel it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are just too many morons at the top of the food chain here at work. It's out of control. And, could the office be any messier? Seriously. With all of the women up in here, you would think we would try to keep things clean. Not so. This place, my desk included, is a mess. And I'm hungry again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I look in the back of my WWD newspaper and look through the job opportunities there. And, sometimes I wish I worked from home. Or from Hawaii.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-8102530782454281182?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/8102530782454281182/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=8102530782454281182' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/8102530782454281182'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/8102530782454281182'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/10/nail-heaven.html' title='Nail heaven.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-3495737512458532087</id><published>2007-10-26T16:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-26T16:37:13.111-07:00</updated><title type='text'>No More Thai.</title><content type='html'>Let's ban Thai from our list of foods to eat. I am so sick from lunch that I might just throw up here at my desk. I just got back from wandering around the office. I have nothing to do today, and until we find out more about this skin care thing, I don't know for sure what I'll have to work on, or when.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My new boss just left. It's not even 5 p.m. I have a feeling that he's not going to give a damn when we come or go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sweet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-3495737512458532087?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/3495737512458532087/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=3495737512458532087' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/3495737512458532087'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/3495737512458532087'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/10/no-more-thai.html' title='No More Thai.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-7417636421562767422</id><published>2007-10-25T12:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-25T13:07:43.860-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Wonderful World of Cosmetics.</title><content type='html'>So, like we were discussing, wouldn't it be easier if we didn't have to be so vague about where we worked? It would be so much more interesting that way.  I would have so much more to tell you, and then it would be much more interesting to read.  So lately, our office is working on a massive clean-up. I mean, it's just such a mess in here that it's completely embarrassing. My old skin care company would absolutely freak if they saw how disgusting it was in here. Anyway, since we're doing this mass cleaning, we're throwing everything out.  That means that there are bins and bins full of makeup that are just being tossed in. People who love our shit would dive into the bins and swim through all of the product, and want to take it home. Me included. But I'm so tired of seeing makeup that I just want to throw up. I literally trip over it on the way in to my area.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is why I don't understand how companies can discontinue things and claim to have none available.  There are plenty of units left over in the corporate office! I swear it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a meeting in a minute with someone who is new and who doesn't know how to read one of our department's many spreadsheets, so I've been tasked with helping her.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Was the woman on the set you're talking about the one you sent me a picture of? How interesting! We don't ever have anyone famous in our office, unless you want to count your loyal highness of cosmetics.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yes. Could it be any hotter here in LA? I just want to die.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-7417636421562767422?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/7417636421562767422/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=7417636421562767422' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/7417636421562767422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/7417636421562767422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/10/wonderful-world-of-cosmetics.html' title='The Wonderful World of Cosmetics.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-438945924067406114</id><published>2007-10-25T10:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-25T10:33:36.929-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Is this seriously my life?</title><content type='html'>I am SO TIRED, Amy. I can't even believe it. It's Thursday, just after 10am, and I'm quickly approaching my 40th hour of work this week. This isn't including the 13 hour day I did on Saturday. I was here until 10:30 last night and I came in before 9 today because I have to leave early for my OTHER job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sent The Boss an email yesterday to which he never responded. After he left yesterday, I went to his computer, checked his email and saw that he actually received my email and read it. My email said, "Since I worked a full day last Saturday and I am losing my mind, can I please take Friday off as a replacement day?" Why is he not trying to respond?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So last night, the stupid director who has been pissing me off for the past two months decided yet again to invite a woman to the set. To sit there. The whole time. For no reason. Now you know I love the ladies. You are fun to shop with and fun to gossip with. But there is no need for you to sit on a gay porn set and make the models nervous and un-boner-y. When told that said female was making a model uncomfortable, his response was, "No, that's not why he's having a problem." Um, thanks? So after some coaxing, he asked the woman to leave. And then decided to leave with her. While we were still filming. And he's the motherfucking director. Amy. What the hell?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am still waiting on a response to whether I can take tomorrow off. If so, I'll just come to you for lunch and we can take our time. I really want to sleep in and then clean my house and work on some art. My friend sent me the new splash page for my new site and I'm super-excited about it. But I have to kick my ass into high gear to get some new stuff to put on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and seriously, could these fires make LA any hotter? I am sweating like it's July. I feel so badly for all these people having to evacuate and whatnot. Have you seen the NASA pictures of the smoke coming off the coast? It's crazy. Are we going to have to evacuate soon or what? I am now physically in hell as well as figuratively.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-438945924067406114?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/438945924067406114/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=438945924067406114' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/438945924067406114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/438945924067406114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/10/is-this-seriously-my-life.html' title='Is this seriously my life?'/><author><name>Buck</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06541339880746939682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-4981481310181743018</id><published>2007-10-22T15:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-22T15:17:01.240-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Garden State.</title><content type='html'>Okay, so I'm back to being dressed like a mountain man today, and I had a run-in with one of our new higher-ups. Seriously. I don't know how I manage to get myself entangled in these kinds of situations. I meant to tell you. I had Lemonjello download the Garden State soundtrack to my iPhone, and I thought of you when I listened to it. It's all of the music that you give me-- in one! I love it. And I'm listening to it right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so tired and so sorry that you have to be filming all night long. I wish I could just sleep in.  My co-worker just got diagnosed with a yeast allergy, and the list of foods she has to avoid is longer than mine!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had more to say, but I have corrections to make on my training sheets. Embarrassing. I'm the writer, dammit!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-4981481310181743018?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/4981481310181743018/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=4981481310181743018' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/4981481310181743018'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/4981481310181743018'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/10/garden-state.html' title='Garden State.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-5441156223613763888</id><published>2007-10-20T10:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-20T10:51:17.697-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Yum, cake.</title><content type='html'>Aw, I feel bad for Coop. How are they going to forget the birthday? That's sad. But it happened to me, too. I went out of my way to get shit for The Boss at my job and she pretended like my birthday didn't exist. I mean, it fell on a Sunday, but she could have acknowledged it on Friday. Or Monday. It was the other department (the one I'm adopted into) that came up to my floor and presented me with a dozen Cream Puffs and some birthday cards. How sweet. I just wish they had a spot for me in their department. They don't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I decided that I'm better suited for the skin care department at my company. I mean, it's not a real skin care department. It's more like the department that deals more with skincare than anything. In fact, the person at the top of that department mentioned that I should join his team last week. What I would do to be in that position!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I stayed at home on Friday. I literally stayed in bed all day and night, watching TV and sleeping. It made me feel awful, but I think I needed it. BTW. Thank you SO much for the gift certificate. It took me DAYS to find what I wanted to buy with it (so much to choose from at amazon!)but I finally settled on a couple of must-haves: my eyelash conditioner. I was going to use the whole certificate to buy a ton of these, but then it didn't seem fulfilling, so I didn't do that. I bought one.  Then, I bought a Henckels knife block because I have this one from Ikea that doesn't work like it should. All the knives swing out when you try to put them in the block. Weird. But my most exciting purchase was a Henckels Butcher Knife. It's HUGE! And so inexpensive. And last but not least...I got a copy of a popular Korean drama that I want to have for when my mom comes and visits me. We love to sit and watch them.  So thank you. Now I'm really impatient to get them because I want to use the knife to cut everything in my kitchen, on my new Boos block cutting board that weighs about 40 pounds.  I can hardly lift it up. I can't wait till I have to clean it and can't lift the damn thing over my chintzy small kitchen sink. You know that after paying over $2K for rent, you would expect to get a kitchen sink that could fit some decent sized pots and pans.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I might be errand-running today.  Are you coming over for Thanksgiving?  If so, do you want to bring the same person you brought the last time? Now that we think we're not afflicted with gluten, we might be able to have a real Thanksgiving! Next week, I have that appointment with the best celiac doctor in our city. After he diagnoses me with just some food allergies, we can go and eat a whole bunch of bread together. And I can make the traditional cornbread, sausage and apple stuffing (damn my allergy to corn!), turkey breast, cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes... I have to stop. I'm so hungry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-5441156223613763888?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/5441156223613763888/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=5441156223613763888' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/5441156223613763888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/5441156223613763888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/10/yum-cake.html' title='Yum, cake.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-9041980735524322728</id><published>2007-10-19T11:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-19T11:14:41.304-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I have a dream.</title><content type='html'>I have a dream that one day we will all be free of having to avoid human feces every five steps while walking to work. I hate this place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um, did I mention that this place sucks? First of all, yesterday was Coop's birthday. We generally get cakes for people when it's their day. When it was MY day, Coop even went and bought the (gluten-free) cake and had the company reimburse her. So yesterday, first thing, I went downstairs and asked The Boss, The Bitch, and HR guy if there would be cake for Coop. They all told me that yes, they were getting cake. And then made fun of me because they said I made it sound like I was scheduling my food intake to accommodate cake later in the day. Anyway...So I leave at 3 to hit up my other job and there still hadn't been cake, so i assumed they did it later. Why did they not get her a cake? What the fuck? Total assholes. So my other co-worker said today that he was going to buy a cake and I'm like, "It's a little late, no?" And when she came in this morning she said her birthday totally sucked, so i feel bad. Especially after she went through the trouble of going and buying me a special cake. Now I look like an asshole.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, the project I have been killing myself over for the last week and a half...I finished it yesterday, it was sent off for approval to somewhere far away, and apparently they hated it. So the Big Boss came in yesterday right before I left and said, "Go ahead and put that project on hold because we're canceling the contract." I was like, "Um, I already finished it, and you approved it, so how am I going to put it on hold?" So that was yet ANOTHER waste of a week. And of course now, if that project is canceled, I have to "whip something up" in two days to replace that project. And it's tough to whip something up from a bunch of discs sent from overseas that are CORRUPT. Everyone is an asshole.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, since this IS Mercury in retrograde....yesterday right before I left, I started uploading all this shit from our server. Coop was working on this HUGE project that she can't save every couple of minutes because it takes about 30 minutes to save. So we were in the middle of all this stuff and the DVD tech guy had a problem up in his office. So why did he, without saying anything to anyone, go downstairs and RESTART all the servers? Which means that everything we had been working on in the afternoon just disappeared. I thought Coop's head was going to explode. What a dick, dude. Who does that? Every time someone in the art department needs to do that, we go to everyone's desk and say, "I have to reboot the servers, could you make sure you're off of them in the next two minutes?" Common courtesy, I think. But no.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Assholes!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-9041980735524322728?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/9041980735524322728/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=9041980735524322728' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/9041980735524322728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/9041980735524322728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/10/i-have-dream.html' title='I have a dream.'/><author><name>Buck</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06541339880746939682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-6343367395376711017</id><published>2007-10-18T13:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-18T15:00:20.864-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I laughed.</title><content type='html'>I hope your porn crisis has ended. Poor thing. You sounded like you had completely destroyed something at your office. Can't you just hit "undo"? That's what we do here in the PC world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just laughed really hard at your story. I really don't think its gluten. I think it's lactose intolerance, but we already diagnosed you with that some time ago. Stay away from cheese and milk! No more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well. It's almost 2 p.m. and I really wish I had gone into that pod business that I was telling you about. I could be in my rented pod with the mini sofa and tv, curled up with my blankets and travel pillow right outside of my building right now. All I need is a nap for an hour, and I think I'd be refreshed. I want to bring back the siesta so badly. Actually, in my country, I'd have to introduce the siesta. What a brilliant idea!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm calling Bath and Body Works to ask them what the fuck they did with my Henri Bendel Vanilla Candle. Those bastards! They've discontinued my candles!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OMG. I am sitting here listening to the CEO of my company trying to socialize with one of our departments. Such a farse. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I need a massage.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-6343367395376711017?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/6343367395376711017/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=6343367395376711017' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/6343367395376711017'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/6343367395376711017'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/10/i-laughed.html' title='I laughed.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-502014428319890006</id><published>2007-10-17T22:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-17T23:12:33.034-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What is? This Blog? You Speak of?</title><content type='html'>Oh my god. It's been like a week and a half since I wrote here. I know you've been waiting on a response from me forever. Oops. I am so goddamned busy, I can't even tell you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, my trip to SF was good. The weather was nice, I got to meet up with some friends, and I really liked the city. I know I told you all this already. But I forgot to tell you the most embarrassing moment of my trip. So, I haven't been able to figure out what exactly I'm allergic to or sensitive to or whatever when it comes to food. So basically, I've just been saying, "Fuck it." Like usual. I mean, frankly, I can't say no to Oreos. Every night. Anyway, on the last night of my trip, my friend and I decided to go see a show. We had to eat first and we couldn't agree on where to go. So after walking around for a bit, we stumbled into a Mexican joint. I decided against tacos again since I always eat them because there's no gluten action. Instead, I got chicken enchiladas. I said, "Hey, they're still wrapped in corn tortillas. What's the big deal?" But I didn't think about the fact that they're smothered in cheese and sour cream and stuff. So we ate, it was good, and we walked to the club to see the show. About 40 minutes later, while waiting for the main act to start, my stomach started to hurt. A LOT. I tried to ignore it, but it kept getting worse. I told my friend I wasn't going to make it through a show with my stomach feeling that way. He told me to use the club's bathroom. To which I said (as always), "Yeah, right." I'm not trying to drop a bomb at a club and ruin the stall for people who use it to fornicate and snort cocaine and whatnot. So he goes, "I live four blocks away. We can go to my place, you can use the bathroom, and we can run back in time to catch the show." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So why did we run (well, more like speed walk while holding it in) all the way back to his house so I could use the bathroom? It was so painful, I thought I was going to faint on the walk there. I was SO EMBARRASSED. This is a guy who has been my friend for years while also still kind of having a crush on me. I guess that crush is gone. I didn't think I was going to make it. I'm totally going to turn into my aunt who has to run to public restrooms every time she leaves the house because she has no control over her bladder. She totally has accidents all the time. Am I going to have to wear diapers in the near future? Or should I just not eat unless I'm home?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, we ran back to the club and only missed the first half of the first song. But, gross. I am gross.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-502014428319890006?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/502014428319890006/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=502014428319890006' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/502014428319890006'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/502014428319890006'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/10/what-is-this-blog-you-speak-of.html' title='What is? This Blog? You Speak of?'/><author><name>Buck</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06541339880746939682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-3500548082182173360</id><published>2007-10-09T11:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-09T11:28:18.315-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I do your nail.</title><content type='html'>I just got back from getting my nails done. The thing is, it needs to be done early in the week, early in the day or else it's way too crowded in that little place to get anything accomplished. So I meant to tell you about something I observed.  The lady who does my nails has this one totally misshapen nail-- it's her thumb nail-- and she uses it as a tool to remove excess nail polish from my finger. Isn't that interesting? So she walks around all day and night with this one really jacked up looking thumb nail just so that she can use it while she works.  I actually noticed that when I went to my last nail tech. It was a guy who had a really long forefinger nail. He used it the same way.  Either that, or he used it like the people in the movies who have a long pinky nail so that they can cut coke or something. I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now that I'm back, I have a huge headache.  I don't know what it's from, but I think it might have been the nail fumes in the nail shop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Either way, I don't feel like being here any longer. I've decided that I need to open my own business and stop working for people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And there's something really wrong with my skin lately. I think it might be a reaction to stress.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-3500548082182173360?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/3500548082182173360/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=3500548082182173360' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/3500548082182173360'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/3500548082182173360'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/10/i-do-your-nail.html' title='I do your nail.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-6089245199038270888</id><published>2007-10-09T09:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-09T09:45:18.012-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Scandalous!</title><content type='html'>I love it. The scandal that happens in porn is amazing! I made it to work, but just barely. I realized this morning that I get about 9 hours of sleep every single night, but I just can't stay awake during the day. There has to be something wrong, right?  I think the Biggest Boss here wants our department to come in at 8.30 or something. It sucks, but I won't know of any formal changes until the new Biggest Biggeest boss starts.  I'm so relieved to have gotten through that promotion-within thing yesterday. It was eating away at me all weekend. Here I was, thinking that I sucked at what I did, and I'm now trying to figure out which department to go to.  You know what's funny? The boss is having a real hard time here because some of the higher ups don't like her. So one of the main things she's having trouble with is the hours that she keeps.  If she comes in late, then she's supposed to stay late, but she doesn't always do that.  So when she has to leave her desk for an extended period of time, she leaves a big ass note on her computer, letting people know where she's gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The funny thing is that now that she's been reprimanded for coming in late and leaving early, she comes in early, so now I'm the only one who comes in all late. They might make me change that. I used to come in by 8.30, but now I can't seem to make that earlier train. I think I'm just getting lazier. More and more, I fantasize about early retirement, but I have many years to go. The best way to get there is to win the lottery, or to work hard on some kind of side gig that you love to do-- and be successful. Can you imagine what you could be doing if you were just a successful freelancer? You could wake up late, work into the night, and not have to report to anyone or have anyone looking over your shoulder. I dream about that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to make my other web site successful. And I'm going to start on that today!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-6089245199038270888?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/6089245199038270888/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=6089245199038270888' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/6089245199038270888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/6089245199038270888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/10/scandalous.html' title='Scandalous!'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-8537525047442388057</id><published>2007-10-09T08:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-09T08:52:51.946-07:00</updated><title type='text'>More and More.</title><content type='html'>Good morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Congrats on having your talk with that hiring manager. I know it was tough but you stood your ground. Well, I guess not so much "stood your ground" as "acted dumb," but you got the point across. It sucks that you have to wait until next year for a promotion within your own department. What happens if your Boss takes off before then? Or, what scares me, what happens if they hire someone external for the position that's right above you? I don't want you to get stuck. Under spreadsheets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, what would you do if you found out your boss was having an affair? I know I told you that my Boss was sleeping with one of our "models" during that last location shoot and how it grossed me out because hello, you're the Boss, and you're married, and you should act your age. Yesterday I was looking at his email to find an address to send some stuff to (he told me that this company had just sent him an email requesting all this stuff I'd been working on, so I was looking for that email while he was at lunch or something). But I accidentally clicked on this email from a name I didn't recognize and it was all about my Boss's upcoming "business trip" to SF. It was kind of general at first, like, "Hey, I'll be down there at such and such a time.." but then it got all, "I can't wait to spend that many days with my sexy boy...thinking of you...all that time together!" Um, ew. then I recognized the name as the REAL name of that model he hooked up with. He is really going on a business trip (that does have like two legitimate meetings) and meeting up with his porn lover. That is disgusting. Now, don't get me wrong, I don't exactly know the parameters of his marriage. They could be very open and are opening things up to make their life easier and less tense or something (which still doesn't make sense to me because I am a jealous bitch, but that's me). But come ON! He is hooking up with a hooker. Under the guise of work. And truthfully, I highly doubt his husband is aware of it. His husband is a verrrry stereotypical Latin man. He will cut a bitch. I am so grossed out. the amount of secrets I hold at this fucking company could make me millions. If only I knew how to properly blackmail people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's more your territory, isn't it? Bwahahahaha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, I just so casually mentioned to the Big Boss how many hours I worked last week in hopes of getting yet another check given to me. I highly doubt that will happen, but you never know around here. Maybe someone will sense that I am holding their secrets and pay me off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to get to work now. I haven't done much since getting in a while ago.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-8537525047442388057?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/8537525047442388057/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=8537525047442388057' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/8537525047442388057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/8537525047442388057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/10/more-and-more.html' title='More and More.'/><author><name>Buck</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06541339880746939682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-3857556769959234095</id><published>2007-10-08T13:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-08T13:10:56.785-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ew.</title><content type='html'>That's the way I feel today. Since my lunch plans fell through with HR, I'm a bit disappointed. But she gave me some time this afternoon to chat with her, and I found out that the big boss above me is coming back tomorrow, and I thought maybe I'd talk to her directly, explain the situation, and have her give me a time line on when I'd be moving up within my own department. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just finished eating lunch. I had the greatest salad on the planet- goat cheese and mixed greens and dried cranberries.  The salad dressing was so good and garlicky, and my breath is overwhelmingly awful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm actually starting to lose my appetite lately from all of this unnecessary stress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyway. Are you back to normal work mode right now? I'm so happy to see the posts again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-3857556769959234095?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/3857556769959234095/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=3857556769959234095' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/3857556769959234095'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/3857556769959234095'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/10/ew.html' title='Ew.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-6773065754132729691</id><published>2007-10-08T11:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-08T11:26:10.704-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Forgot To Mention...</title><content type='html'>Because he was a murderer. Columbus was evil and we must not celebrate him, Amy. He was not down with the brown.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I totally forgot to mention my diet yesterday. I didn't eat. All day. I was running around in the hot sun for like 9 hours with no food. I did have a root beer and two Sunny D and ginger ale combos. That shit was good. But no food. So when I got home at 7, I decided that I was starving and I had to eat food by the bucket-full. So I said to myself, "Fuck all this gluten madness! Order a goddamn pizza!" And that's exactly what I did. I ordered a 16-inch Hawaiian pizza and don't you know I ate TEN pieces of it. I ate until I almost threw up. From fullness, not from gluten-ness. I was a little nauseous when i went to bed, but it was nothing major. Shouldn't I have been feeling about to die if I do, in fact, have a gluten or dairy intolerance? Hmph.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and this morning I had a bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit from the "health food" store because I still didn't care about gluten issues. And I don't feel close to death. Yet. Watch it catch up to me tomorrow and I just go into a coma or something.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-6773065754132729691?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/6773065754132729691/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=6773065754132729691' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/6773065754132729691'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/6773065754132729691'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/10/i-forgot-to-mention.html' title='I Forgot To Mention...'/><author><name>Buck</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06541339880746939682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-6289691210547027964</id><published>2007-10-08T09:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-08T10:34:11.308-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Doomsday.</title><content type='html'>Today is the day. But before I start to tell you more about how awful I'm feeling, I have to answer the important question: Yes. you can use the secret aloe-based product on your face. It's great for sunburn, and safe for the face and the body. You'll love it. If you need more, let me know. I'll hook you up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know, all morning I've been avoiding the person who offered me that job, and of course, right when I'm in the bathroom, guess who comes in? Seriously. It's such a pain in the ass-- I'm waiting for lunch to discuss this thing with the HR person, and then later I had planned to go and talk to the hiring manager about my decision. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so nervous, even though I really shouldn't be.  I'm glad you're alive and that your shoot went well yesterday. I noticed that it was really sunny-- and hoped it was in your area, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is Columbus Day. Why are we at work again?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-6289691210547027964?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/6289691210547027964/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=6289691210547027964' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/6289691210547027964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/6289691210547027964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/10/doomsday.html' title='Doomsday.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-4168083466631894954</id><published>2007-10-08T09:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-08T09:11:42.558-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Forgot To Reapply!</title><content type='html'>I look like a beet. I was outside in that glaring sun allll day yesterday and I only put sunscreen on when I left the house in the morning. Oops. Like my nose doesn't already have enough problems. Now it's sunburned and is forming a giant zit at the end (more redness!) because I've been shooting all week long. When I take pictures, my nose rubs against the camera, making a big oily spot. It is gross. But I think I finally determined why my nose always breaks out. It's because of my career.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry you feel bad about yourself when I don't blog with you. My schedule is nuts. I worked over 65 hours last week, not including two freelance jobs. It's just a tiny, tiny bit better this week, but I'm missing Friday and Monday because I'm skipping up to SF this weekend to visit friends. And maybe look at apartments. But I'll have to work extra hard again this week to make up for those missed days. Boo. Plus, I have to process all the freelance work I did this weekend and get it to the people who pay me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey, so remember that secret soothing formula you gave me in that unmarked bottle for my sunburns and bug bites? Can I slather that on my face, or will it make me break out more than normal? It didn't really seem like something I should leave caked on while I sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have some very important news to break to you. I think I might like country music. Like, a lot.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-4168083466631894954?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/4168083466631894954/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=4168083466631894954' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/4168083466631894954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/4168083466631894954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/10/i-forgot-to-reapply.html' title='I Forgot To Reapply!'/><author><name>Buck</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06541339880746939682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-8208060667904221282</id><published>2007-10-06T20:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-06T20:35:30.998-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Co-dependency at its finest.</title><content type='html'>I just wanted to tell you that when I don't get to blog back and forth with you for days it makes me feel fat about myself. And sad.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-8208060667904221282?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/8208060667904221282/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=8208060667904221282' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/8208060667904221282'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/8208060667904221282'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/10/co-dependency-at-its-finest.html' title='Co-dependency at its finest.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-679047886959876896</id><published>2007-10-04T10:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-04T13:10:50.331-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm sorry you're dead.</title><content type='html'>I'm barely alive. Do you know that I am falling into a downward spiral with my work? I mean, today was the second day this week that I got in to work late. I planned on getting in early, but it just didn't happen for me. And to make things worse, the time is just going by so slowly that I want to die.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should stop complaining. Things here aren't nearly as bad as how you have it in pornoland.  I'm sorry. I wish I could help you somehow, but we have to face it-- we're in completely different fields, and I suck at what you do, and you don't have a clue as to what I do. It's unfortunate. We would have been a good business team otherwise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh shit. I have a huge dilemma. Remember how I told you a while ago that I might be offered a position in this company with the role that I want, but with the department I don't? Well... it just kind of happened. Ouch. I wish you weren't busy so that I can get your advice, but I'm super busy, too. Let me get back to you. I have some thinking to do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-679047886959876896?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/679047886959876896/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=679047886959876896' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/679047886959876896'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/679047886959876896'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/10/im-sorry-youre-dead.html' title='I&apos;m sorry you&apos;re dead.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-4440250774677492569</id><published>2007-10-03T21:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-03T22:00:37.150-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sorry, I died.</title><content type='html'>No, seriously. I have to keep this short because I am so exhausted. I have so much work to do, it's insane. The day started with The Boss waltzing in and saying to me and Coop, "The Big Boss says that if those ten different projects aren't done by Friday, the art department doesn't have the weekend off." FIRST OF ALL, assholes, the "art department" already doesn't have the weekend off because the "art department" is also the "production crew" and the "production crew" has to shoot photos on Saturday. Well, that's my own fault because I volunteered to do it, but still. And then I have a freelance thing all day Sunday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And SECOND, the Big Boss told us two days ago to get as much done as we could by Friday, not OH MY GOD FINISH IT OR WE'LL DIE. This place is bullshit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I gotta go. Sorry for the radio silence.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-4440250774677492569?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/4440250774677492569/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=4440250774677492569' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/4440250774677492569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/4440250774677492569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/10/sorry-i-died.html' title='Sorry, I died.'/><author><name>Buck</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06541339880746939682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-1930558092638242320</id><published>2007-10-03T16:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-03T16:26:13.825-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Are you alive? Part 2.</title><content type='html'>Hello? I've been talking to myself all day today. And listening to the songs from the "Elf" soundtrack in my cube since 9 a.m. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate when you're busy at work. I should be, but I need something to entertain me. But only in the next couple of minutes because my workday is almost over.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-1930558092638242320?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/1930558092638242320/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=1930558092638242320' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/1930558092638242320'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/1930558092638242320'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/10/are-you-alive-part-2.html' title='Are you alive? Part 2.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-9059853332968088728</id><published>2007-10-03T12:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-03T13:04:56.211-07:00</updated><title type='text'>So hot.</title><content type='html'>Is today considered a hot day? I think I might be having the same issue you were having last night. People are wearing fur coats and parkas outside, and I'm sweating like a pig and wearing a tank top. One of my co-workers just stopped me at the lobby of my office building and asked me if I was cold, but there's sweat dripping off of my head, and my arms are burning. I seriously think there's an issue here. Maybe on Friady they'll tell me that I have a thyroid condition that forces me to retain body heat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me tell you. There's this homeless guy that totally lives outside of our office building. He's always just sleeping on the grates outside, drinking, or eating something. On special occasions (like today), he just pees all over the sidewalk, right in front of the restaurants, right in front of the crowds of office people, with no discretion. Sometimes he just has his pants hanging down by his ankles while he's digging through the trash, and sometimes he's defacating on the curb in front of my office. Isn't that nice?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway. I'm almost back from lunch. I have a lot of work to do. I'm going to snack on my Sensible Foods in a minute. How nice are the owners of that company to send me a free case?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-9059853332968088728?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/9059853332968088728/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=9059853332968088728' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/9059853332968088728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/9059853332968088728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/10/so-hot.html' title='So hot.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-3276692155941743437</id><published>2007-10-02T13:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-02T14:54:47.873-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Doom.</title><content type='html'>Holy shit! I can't belive you owe the IRS! That's crazy. I remember having to pay the IRS when I moved out here, but it was just over a thousand dollars.  I thought I was going to die back then. I can't imagine how you feel. Be sure to call them and see if it's accurate. You'd be surprised at how quickly someone will answer the phone over there, especially since it's after tax season.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you know that I just went to go and get a manicure, and the place was crowded. Can you imagine? I decided to go this late so that I could avoid the rush, and there were so many people there that I had to come back! I'm so mad. And I even paid $3 to get $20 out of the Bank of America ATM. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm ready to go home. My entire body aches and I'm dying to take a vacation. I'm so fat. While I was waiting in the nail place, I picked up an "OK" magazine and started reading. There were these pictures of Britney Spears before and after her VMA performance, and guess what?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My body is starting to look just like her AFTER photos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to go home. I can't take it. Why is the day so long?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-3276692155941743437?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/3276692155941743437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=3276692155941743437' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/3276692155941743437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/3276692155941743437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/10/doom.html' title='Doom.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-6612371004364620539</id><published>2007-10-02T13:09:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-02T13:09:56.133-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh good.</title><content type='html'>You're alive.&lt;br /&gt;Welcome back.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-6612371004364620539?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/6612371004364620539/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=6612371004364620539' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/6612371004364620539'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/6612371004364620539'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/10/oh-good.html' title='Oh good.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-7821190959805698120</id><published>2007-10-02T12:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-02T12:59:49.798-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm sorry, but this is so funny.</title><content type='html'>So I saw this headline today at &lt;a href="www.msnbc.com"&gt;msnbc.com&lt;/a&gt;: "Abdul says she’s straight up ready for a baby--‘American Idol’ judge reveals she’d like a tot within the next 2 years"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How fucking funny is that headline? I laughed out loud in my chair. And I just got done with lunch.  I meant to tell you that I got my fruit snacks yesterday, so I put half of them in that box/bag combo you gave me last time, and whenever I see you next, I'll do the hand over.  I haven't heard from you yet today, so you are either handcuffed to the kitchen table, or in production. Or you've quit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been working on my training sheets again this morning. It gets more and more embarrassing each time I create one.  That's all for now. I went down to the reception area earlier and there were about 400 people lined up for interviews. I swear. We hire like crazy, but then we break all of the ethical rules for employing people. Here, if you don't look or dress the part, you don't get hired. It's really true. Anyway. Let me know that you're alive. I don't like not hearing from you all morning!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-7821190959805698120?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/7821190959805698120/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=7821190959805698120' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/7821190959805698120'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/7821190959805698120'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/10/im-sorry-but-this-is-so-funny.html' title='I&apos;m sorry, but this is so funny.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-3657320135126172943</id><published>2007-10-02T12:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-02T12:53:12.704-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Barely Hanging On.</title><content type='html'>Trust me, I feel you on being tired. It's the allergens in the air. I totally feel like I'm walking around in a haze. I can barely hold my head up. I just got into work about an hour ago. I was still asleep when you went in this morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got home last night around 9, so it was a 10 or 11 hour day. No biggie. I told myself I would watch Heroes and then go directly to bed at 10. Then I remembered my face is freaking out so I gave myself 30 minutes for a little cleansing, masking, and spot toning. Then I looked at email and downloaded music. Then it was 1:30. Then I opened my mail, including a letter from the IRS that says I didn't pay in 2003 and now I owe over $3300. I'm not kidding. What the hell am I supposed to do? That is not what one needs to see when going to bed. I'm a little freaked out. I mean, that's a LOT of money. And I totally thought I paid that off a year or two ago, but you've seen my apartment. You know I won't be able to find documentation of it. But I swear that was the thing I paid when the IRS sent the Big Boss a letter a long time ago saying they had to work something out with him so they could garnish my wages. And he told me to take care of it so he wouldn't have to deal with it. I'm so fucked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway. No, nothing exciting happened on the shoot last night. It was a snoozefest. I'm on the set again today until at least 11. We have two shoots, back to back. The Powers That Be decided that since we shoot like that when we're on location, we can shoot like that all the time. Because, you know, their staff needs no time for recoup or to actually do any of the post-production on anything. I'm so fucking behind on my deadlines.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel another panic attack coming on. I think you might have to come through my apartment with me and help me decide what to sell on ebay. You know I love my stuff, but how else am I going to pay the IRS? Fuck. I'm going to freak out in a minute. And this killer headache isn't helping.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-3657320135126172943?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/3657320135126172943/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=3657320135126172943' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/3657320135126172943'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/3657320135126172943'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/10/im-barely-hanging-on.html' title='I&apos;m Barely Hanging On.'/><author><name>Buck</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06541339880746939682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-6344360975112428813</id><published>2007-10-02T10:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-02T11:12:35.959-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Are you alive?</title><content type='html'>OMG. Can I tell you that there's something seriously wrong with me mentally? I went to sleep at 9.30 last night, woke up again at 3 a.m., and couldn't fall back asleep until 5 a.m. or so. When the alarm went off, I was so tired that I just called The Boss and told her that I would be in late. And that's just what I did. Came in at 10.15 or so. I'm &lt;em&gt;still&lt;/em&gt; tired. I mean, I could understand this if I was a marathon runner, or worked overtime, or did much more than work and sleep, but it's totally ridiculous. And now that I'm in late, I'm really trying my best to get a whole lot of work done to make up for the fact that I'm a fat, lazy pig. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just ate some potato salad and I have a ton of stuff to do, including another meeting at 2 p.m. I wanted to go and get a manicure at lunch, but I came in so late that I don't think I deserve to be able to go anywhere today.&lt;br /&gt;How was the shoot yesterday? Anything exciting that I need to know?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-6344360975112428813?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/6344360975112428813/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=6344360975112428813' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/6344360975112428813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/6344360975112428813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/10/are-you-alive.html' title='Are you alive?'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-8266326975903772209</id><published>2007-10-01T16:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-01T17:02:21.966-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You're right. I laughed.</title><content type='html'>I just laughed out loud because I thought you were kidding. How come you didn't ask me to come to your office? How funny would it have been to be eating lunch at the kitchen table together?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just got out of the most unproductive meeting in the world. We had all the higher ups in there, with this huge agenda. We got to #1 on the agenda, and talked it to death for an hour. And now the meeting is over.  I have to go and walk to the mailbox downstairs to mail some bills in a minute, but I had to share. I get all prepared for these meetings, and they end up being stupid. I didn't say one word during the entire meeting, either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shit. Gotta run. Time to go home!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-8266326975903772209?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/8266326975903772209/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=8266326975903772209' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/8266326975903772209'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/8266326975903772209'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/10/youre-right-i-laughed.html' title='You&apos;re right. I laughed.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-2506610397909994563</id><published>2007-10-01T15:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-01T15:25:22.666-07:00</updated><title type='text'>No, seriously, that is IT.</title><content type='html'>I've had it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I decided that since I am a growing boy, I needed to eat lunch, in spite of all my stomach pain. So I walked to Trader Joe's and bought stuff and then came back here to heat it and eat it. (Heat It and Eat It? Is that a new porn title? I think so...) Anyway, so I walk in to the kitchen area and heat my food. And now I'm eating it at my desk. You ask, "But Buck, why are you eating at your desk instead of at the kitchen table like usual?" Do you really want to know? Truly? I'll tell you why I'm sitting at my desk instead of the kitchen table.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems that one of our models (a model I hate) who is in town to shoot for us has found himself a little boyfriend for the weekend. This boy is on a leash. And that leash has been HANDCUFFED to a chair at my kitchen table. HANDCUFFED to the kitchen chair, Amy. What the fuck is that? Is that honestly the kind of environment in which I have to work? Everyone here (EVERYONE) thinks it is both cute and funny. I don't think it is funny in any way. I know you think it's funny because you are sitting at your desk laughing your ass off. But I think it is completely ridiculous and absurd and it makes me hate this world, this job, and especially this bubble I live in. Call me self-hating. Call me a hypocrite for doing this work and then having this kind of reaction. I don't care. Shouldn't I be able to just sit at my table and eat lunch without having to deal with others' shit like that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And don't even get me started on the boy himself. This boy is basically a girl with balls. He is a very very dumb femme boy. (I heard him speaking, so I cannot stress how dumb he is.) He is kind of like that "Leave Britney alone!" guy. A mess. And he keeps telling everyone that he is "clever." If you have to tell people, then you're not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate everything about my life at this very moment.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-2506610397909994563?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/2506610397909994563/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=2506610397909994563' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/2506610397909994563'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/2506610397909994563'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/10/no-seriously-that-is-it.html' title='No, seriously, that is IT.'/><author><name>Buck</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06541339880746939682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-1670005650900420863</id><published>2007-10-01T11:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-01T11:31:48.159-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sounds like an ulcer to me.</title><content type='html'>Hi. I'm so sorry you're falling apart. I totally think it's stress-related. I've gone through stuff like that, and it totally looks like we're in the same boat when it comes to weird shit forming on our faces. My skin is so dry, ugly, and cracking lately. In fact, I had to put on some cover up under my eye this morning because my eyes were so puffy and gross.  Then, when I came into the work bathroom, I looked at myself under the flourescent lights (shouldn't we at least have natural lighting, or &lt;em&gt;good&lt;/em&gt; lighting in a cosmetic company bathroom?) and saw that the cover up had caked up under my eye. So I made the entire trip to work with my undereyes looking a big mess. And everyone in my office is sick. I woke up to a sore throat both today and yesterday, and the girl you heard hacking and coughing the other day when you called me at work is still here, recovering from bronchitis. Nice!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, when I got on the train this morning, some girl comes and sits next to me and starts putting on her makeup for the entire ride. The whole time, I'm trying to listen to "Felicity" and she's elbowing me over and over again while she's putting on eyeshadow and taking her jacket off. She never even apologized, either. It made me so mad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would suggest that you make an appointment to see my new gastro doctor. Check to see if he's in your HMO network, and I'll give you his contact info. I really think you need to go to a specialist, or we'll never know what the issue is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for the thing on your nose, I know what that is. I'll bring you lancets so that you can get rid of it. Normally, I wouldn't ever suggest doing something like that, but I had that for a few months one time when I was constantly blowing my nose, and it wouldn't go away. Maybe you need a humidifier in your apartment. This is allergy season, so it's bound to be messing with your skin and your system.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For now, don't freak out. I feel so bad because I know all about your panic attacks. Do you want me to bring you something for lunch? I have a bit of a break before I have this HUGE meeting with the President and all of the other executives in the company at 3 p.m. I'm actually working on my presentation for them now, and today I chose to wear my Sunday best-- that is, flip flops, a wife beater, and jeans.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God. I'm going to be fired.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-1670005650900420863?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/1670005650900420863/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=1670005650900420863' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/1670005650900420863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/1670005650900420863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/10/sounds-like-ulcer-to-me.html' title='Sounds like an ulcer to me.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-8904009094482957307</id><published>2007-10-01T10:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-01T11:06:48.279-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Totally Falling Apart.</title><content type='html'>Amy. I'm dying. Or something. I don't know what the hell is going on with me. Everyone at my office was sick last week but I haven't gotten it. Yet. But there are all these other issues. I feel like my body is shutting down on me. Maybe it's because I never exercise. Or that my diet is a joke. Whatever it is, I'm freaking out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The under-skin bump is back on the side of my nose. It's ready to grow and eat my face. AND the zit or ingrown hair or whatever it is is back on the inside of my nose. And it hurts like a bitch. Oh, and I have a sty. In my right eye. I'm the right eye sty guy. Great. And yesterday I was hanging out with friends at this huge party and toward the end, everyone I knew disappeared. And I lost it. I had a total panic attack and ended up running from one end of the thing to the other just so I could get out and away from all the people. I was nearly hyperventilating. I thought I was going to start crying at any minute. And my stomach hurt SO BAD. I didn't even eat dinner or anything because it was such a mess. What is going on?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway. I keep taking it all as signs that I need to move. Or at least make a major change. Astrologyzone lied to me because I certainly didn't come into any money at the end of September. Bastards. I wonder what lies they have for me for October?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I came in super-late today. I have a shoot this evening. Good times. I may have a shoot this afternoon as well but of course no one says anything to me. I have a ton of deadline-drive stuff to get to, so I have to cut this short.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just know that I ate some coffee cake about ten minutes ago and now my stomach is pissed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-8904009094482957307?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/8904009094482957307/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=8904009094482957307' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/8904009094482957307'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/8904009094482957307'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/10/totally-falling-apart.html' title='Totally Falling Apart.'/><author><name>Buck</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06541339880746939682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-5491803832124131591</id><published>2007-09-30T15:25:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-30T15:37:00.631-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mandolin, Mandolin.</title><content type='html'>Hi.&lt;br /&gt;Today I got a mandolin. So I can slice vegetables. I'M SO EXCITED! I just made nuoc cham and I think I got it right. I sat and squeezed limes until my face turned blue with the lemon reamer, and then had lemonjello remove this stubborn jade bracelet from my arm, using Pam cooking spray. It worked. My arm is free again!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I just made Korean potato salad. They usually serve it as an appetizer, and it has ham, fuji apples, onions, potato, and carrots in it with a special mayonnaise-based sauce. Of course I don't know how to use portion control, so I made it with two of the biggest potatoes I could find, and it ended up being so much salad that I had to put it into three different containers into the fridge. A little later, I'll be making the vermacelli noodles for dinner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went to the Farmer's Market today, as usual. That place is SO much fun, and even more fun because it's right near our apartment.  We went to look at cats at the pet store, then to Trader Joe's, then to get my eyebrows threaded because the lady who normally does them has been missing in action for a month.  I went to this Indian boutique to get them done. It was a trip! The place was set up like a store, and right in the middle, there are several hair cutting stations set up. Very bizarre. But you have to appreciate that Asians will do anything and everything to make a buck. Anyway. The lady who did my eyebrows was probably the most unfriendly person in the entire universe. I guess when you're charging $7 for a threading, you can be as nasty as you want.  In any case, she was done in about a minute and my eyebrows are really thin, but they're cleaned up. I had been walking around looking like Frida Kahlo for about a month now. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_Oc5qgxIQe8o/RwAkhdlZe7I/AAAAAAAAADA/V1LoGeRxq1g/s1600-h/Frida.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_Oc5qgxIQe8o/RwAkhdlZe7I/AAAAAAAAADA/V1LoGeRxq1g/s320/Frida.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5116129333988654002" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that was that. Now it's almost 4 p.m. and I have a ton of laundry and cleaning to do. Next week, work is going to be hell. I can feel it. I have an important meeting with the prez tomorrow afternoon, so I really need to get prepared. I was supposed to take some more work home with me this weekend, but I didn't have a chance to do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My arm feels so free now that the jade is gone. Now, according to Chinese legend, I'll have bad luck for years to come. Bring it on. It can't get any worse.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-5491803832124131591?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/5491803832124131591/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=5491803832124131591' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/5491803832124131591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/5491803832124131591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/09/mandolin-mandolin.html' title='Mandolin, Mandolin.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Oc5qgxIQe8o/RwAkhdlZe7I/AAAAAAAAADA/V1LoGeRxq1g/s72-c/Frida.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-1612553031986709723</id><published>2007-09-29T15:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-29T15:52:09.045-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I love the gays. And Vietnamese Noodles.</title><content type='html'>Guess what I ate today? And what I'm going to make tomorrow for dinner? Vegetarian Vietnamese vermicelli noodles! I had to have them after I saw you having them, so I got online and got the recipe for nuoc cham (the sauce that goes with all things Vietnamese) and also for the noodle dish. Easy breezy. I love Asian markets because we went to one today, and they are SO much cheaper than your average American grocery store.  I think I may have to go on a strict Vietnamese diet. I look at what is offered as their daily diet, and realize that it consists primarily of fresh herbs, rice noodles, and nuoc cham!! Sold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I perfect it, I'm going to make it for you. Then you can pay me $6 when I make it for you. I make for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we went to the Asian grocery that a Chinese bakery in it, so we invested $.99 in some hot dogs rolled up in Chinese buns.  I know it sounds gross, but it's the best thing that Chinese bakeries make, aside from their fruit cakes. The bread is different in Chinese bakeries. They're sweet. And oh-so yummy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I totally think you're lactose intolerant rather than celiac. Seriously. The pizza has a ton of cheese, and that'll fuck someone up in a minute, especially if you don't eat dairy often.  I hate dairy. Except for Ben and Jerry's Creme Brulee ice cream. OMG. &lt;em&gt;So&lt;/em&gt; good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I do feel bad for you that you feel sick. I hope it passes today. It's especially pretty outside.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yes. I love the gays. Especially the ones you hate. The thing is, I think straight women find the queeny ones really entertaining.  There are some uppity homosexuals who work with me. The ones I like are the gays in the Merchandising department.  The ones who are higher ups are kind of stand-offish. Speaking of gays, I think you need to submit me to Tim Gunn's Guide to Style. Can you do that for me? My ass needs a new wardrobe, and the fatter I get, the tighter these tank tops look against my stomach.  Consider it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm about ready to take a nap now. It's about that time. And of course, one hour into my long ass nap, you'll call me and wake me up and apologize for calling and waking me during one of my many naps on a lazy Saturday afternoon. OOOH! You have friends visiting this weekend. Hope you guys are having the pretty weather that's happening on my side of the ocean.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-1612553031986709723?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/1612553031986709723/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=1612553031986709723' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/1612553031986709723'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/1612553031986709723'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/09/i-love-gays-and-vietnamese-noodles.html' title='I love the gays. And Vietnamese Noodles.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-2026026362610057405</id><published>2007-09-29T12:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-29T12:51:23.159-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Maybe I lied.</title><content type='html'>I had gluten-y cookies yesterday and felt no pain, so I decided to push the limit and have a few pieces of pizza for dinner. Bad idea. I was seriously curled up in pain all night and had to spend half the night in the bathroom. Too much information? It sucked. And my stomach is still sort of killing me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I forgot to comment on your tyrade against working with a bunch of beavers. Imagine that, multiplied, and you have my office. We are a bunch of fags, so there is all sorts of whispering, mocking behind backs, and shady dealings, just like you have with the ladies. But add to that an inordinant amount of burping, walking around the office with one's hand down one's pants (and I'm talking about the bosses, not the models), and bathrooms where people don't seem to understand how the roll of toilet paper makes it onto the little roller mounted on the wall. It is gross. And I remember every time you mention one of the queens you work with, you mention that he's usually femme. I think that's a natural thing that occurs. When I'm at my part-time gig, I work with one guy and a lot of women. I turn into a sassy, flaming mess. There's something internal that takes over where I feel like I have to act like a big fucking girl to make everyone feel safe or something. I don't get it. I mean, you've been to my porn office. We're a bunch of homos, but we're not exactly a femme-y bunch. But put one of us around a bunch of women and something flips. It's very strange. You women hold some sort of power over men, even the gay ones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know you love the gays, but have you ever met one you really didn't like? Every time I meet a gay dude who acts like a complete asshole, he has girls SWARMING around him. They eat it up. What is that about?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-2026026362610057405?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/2026026362610057405/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=2026026362610057405' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/2026026362610057405'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/2026026362610057405'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/09/maybe-i-lied.html' title='Maybe I lied.'/><author><name>Buck</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06541339880746939682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-2535536690341653698</id><published>2007-09-28T22:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-28T22:39:41.983-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Does this happen at your office?</title><content type='html'>God, sorry I suck. You've posted three times in a row and I haven't even had a minute to read them until now. We have been so crazy busy the past couple days. I'm afraid it's going to be like this for another week and a half. I am so excited to go to bed and it's 10 o'clock on a Friday night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has just been a steady stream of people at the office this week. Like, large groups of men from here and there just show up and a different boss grabs them and gives them a tour. Sometimes we lowly employees get introductions, but usually it's like a roll call as they fly by our desks. Today one small group actually stopped at each of our desks to shake hands and stuff, which is rare. Another group got the tour where they were just whisked through at high speed and all our names were just yelled out with an arm shot in our direction, but most of the names we were called were wrong. My name is not Chuck, Amy. It is Buck. And my last name does not have an S at the end. And my coworker's last name is not that of a superhero. Our company is not that big, we work with these people every day, you'd think they'd know who the hell we are at this point. It's been years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And even though it's tough to do it, sometimes I forget where I work. I walked past my Big Boss's desk and saw some guy sitting across from it having a meeting. A minute later I walked by again and that same guy was standing without a shirt, showing the Big Boss his abs. A minute later, I turn toward the desk again and the guy is taking his pants off and standing there buck naked. And I was actually, like, shocked. Then I remembered that hi, I work in a porn studio and naked men walk by my desk pretty much every day, often stopping by my desk to ask me for favors. I've often wondered if they purposely do the favor-asking in the nude thinking it will somehow influence me to do whatever they want. I think they forget that I have to sit there all day retouching all their flaws and their bodies are nothing more to me than projects. And the few that actually do impress or intrigue me with their bodies usually have a face or personality that makes me want to run screaming in the other direction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I ate cookies. Gluten-y, delicious cookies. And I don't notice any issues. I'm so freaked out about what's going on with my body. My doctor, after three weeks, finally called me back to tell me that all of my stomach and intestinal tests came back negative for anything bad. So what the hell has been going on with my stomach these past two months or so? Has it all been stress? I ran into a friend of mine last night and we were discussing jobs and living in SF and I mentioned my desire to possibly move north as a means of escaping the industry in which I work. And he looked at me, flabbergasted, and said, "But you love your job!" I was like, "Um, I hate it." And he just shook his head and said, "No one stays at a job for as many years as you have and hates it." Is that true? Do I secretly love my job? Say it isn't so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I've been at this job for so long out of fear. Fear of change. Fear of being judged in a different job for working in porn for more than a few months. Fear that a real schedule would kill my bohemian lifestyle fantasy. I've been stuck so long in this secondary roll that I think maybe I'm afraid to really put myself out there and prove that I'm more than what my job title says I am. Or maybe being stuck in this roll for so long has just made me feel like I am nothing more than what I already am. How depressing is that?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-2535536690341653698?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/2535536690341653698/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=2535536690341653698' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/2535536690341653698'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/2535536690341653698'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/09/does-this-happen-at-your-office.html' title='Does this happen at your office?'/><author><name>Buck</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06541339880746939682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-4307400691573103410</id><published>2007-09-27T15:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-27T15:53:16.538-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ugly Betty in the House.</title><content type='html'>You know, I secretly love being a part of an industry full of bitchy women. I mean, I hate the politics of it, but I love observing. I'm totally fascinated with how women work together. On the surface, it looks totally kosher. We smile and we're kind to each other, help each other out occassionally... but there's always some hidden hatred for one another. It makes me laugh every single day. Let me tell you what happened earlier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our work areas are set up in such a way that each department owns their own little hub.  You've seen it, so you can picture it.  So when someone comes into our area, they can talk to all of us at once. Earlier today, someone came to our area to look for The Boss.  Me and my other team member told her nicely that she had gone to a meeting, so she turned and left. My team member and I then turned around to each other and both started mouthing rude things about her when she walked away.  Then we started to laugh really loud. I'm such a bitch. But seriously-- the person who came to us was the same person I told you about the other day over lunch (Remember?..."There's this woman I work with, and she's a bitch"?!) It was such typical cosmetic girl behavior that I felt ashamed about it afterward. But I realized that she wasn't like the Ugly Betty of the office. That's me. But she's like one of the snobby bitches on the show who doesn't know that everyone thinks she's a bitch. God, is she.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I wish I could just stay out of it, but I swear that hatred and un-ladylike behavior permeates my office. I honestly believe that all cosmetics companies are like this. Put a bunch of women in one office, and you're screwed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-4307400691573103410?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/4307400691573103410/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=4307400691573103410' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/4307400691573103410'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/4307400691573103410'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/09/ugly-betty-in-house.html' title='Ugly Betty in the House.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-6055283686673517115</id><published>2007-09-27T12:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-27T13:50:01.585-07:00</updated><title type='text'>More Work Makes Amy a Dull Girl.</title><content type='html'>I am so slow. Painfully slow. And since I've been tasked to be the know-all on all of the training sheets for all of our new makeup launches, I spend hours cutting, pasting, and trying to re-write flowery hoo-ha so that we can train our sales folks better. You should see the page I just put together. Nobody would have guessed that I wrote it because it's so nauseatingly disgusting. I'll forward it to you. But it's top secret because it hasn't launched yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of nauseatingly disgusting, I made my own version of a Vietnamese sandwich last night to bring to lunch because I felt that I didn't want to spend $3.75 on buying one everyday at lunchtime. Bad mistake. It took about 20 minutes just to prepare the sandwich, and then when I ate it, it tasted &lt;em&gt;nothing&lt;/em&gt; like the one that the authentic Vietnamese people made for me the other day.  So I'm going to stop trying. Besides, making pickled carrots and trying to preserve cilantro for more than two days almost killed me. It's way too much work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something funny happened to me today.  I had this meeting with one of the departments, where they asked me to write their training sheets as well.  So I agree, because I really don't have the right not to accept this new responsibility, and I go upstairs to tell The Boss that I've just added this to my very full plate.  She gets right on the phone and calls the manager of that department, telling her that I will not be doing any additional work, and that they need to come to her before giving me more work. Basically, she didn't want me to be anyone else's bitch. But I'm everyone's bitch. She just doesn't know it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope your shoot is going well. I don't know when I'll be able to leave here, but I think I'll take off right at 5 and then see if I can come to see you and pass off the goods.  My bag is so heavy. I hope to get this to you after work today. I'll catch the later train home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hello? Entertain me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-6055283686673517115?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/6055283686673517115/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=6055283686673517115' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/6055283686673517115'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/6055283686673517115'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/09/more-work-makes-amy-dull-girl.html' title='More Work Makes Amy a Dull Girl.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-1808524767708496866</id><published>2007-09-27T09:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-27T09:48:57.701-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sweet Nothings.</title><content type='html'>I hate the whispery nature of the cosmetics industry. All day long, I hear people whispering about each other, then smiling at each other as they walk by. It's so fake. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so mad. This morning, I was really craving yogurt and honey, like they have at the place just outside of my building, and I went there and they didn't have any today because they ran out of granola.  I had to get a big ass thing of fruit instead, even though I wasn't in the mood for fruit at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry you're in production all day today. Sorry for me, that is. That means I get no e-mails. But I sure did get an e-mail from amazon today, telling me that my order has finally shipped! Normally they send those messages and the package shows up on the same day. If that's the case, it would be perfect for us to meet up today so that we can swap, like fat friends should.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I'm really trying to concentrate and get a majority of my work done before the weekend. I was so tired last night after work that I just crashed at about 9.30 and didn't wake up until 5 a.m. I had this dream that Lemonjello came to me and told me that he really wanted me to buy Ugg boots and furry-lined jeans. He had taken pictures of these girls who were wearing jeans that had the traditional Ugg shearling all around the waist and on the bottom, and really wanted me to wear things like that. I got up and was angry this morning because I didn't want to wear Ugg boots.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well my dear, I'm off to start with more training sheets. Isn't that a trip? They give that job to the least interested person in the company.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-1808524767708496866?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/1808524767708496866/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=1808524767708496866' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/1808524767708496866'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/1808524767708496866'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/09/sweet-nothings.html' title='Sweet Nothings.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-945089007255898713</id><published>2007-09-27T08:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-27T08:56:38.799-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Out of Touch.</title><content type='html'>So today is going to suck because on top of all these deadlines I have, I'm going to have to be on set for most of the day as well. We are in full-on production mode, which is almost never fun. So I might not be as blog or email accessible as usual.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still haven't heard if these people are going to change my Saturday shoot or not. It is ridiculous how many channels I have to go through in such a small company, yet no one will make a fucking decision. And if a decision is made, it's never stuck to. It's not like I'm asking for a miracle here. It's one fucking shoot that can be moved to Monday or Tuesday. What is the big deal?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I'm just in a bad mood because I wasted an hour of my life last night watching that ridiculous Bionic Woman premiere. Seriously, the writing on that show is atrocious. I thought I was watching the CW or something. Just because the star can jump really far and whatnot does not mean that the show will automatically be good. The lines were awful, and the acting wasn't good, and the lead....she just didn't do anything. I realize it was the first episode and they had to lay some groundwork and everything, but it was just so...corny. I'm all for suspension of disbelief (hello, I still think Buffy is the best show to ever be made), but that show was plain old dumb.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um, I have to get back to retouching these ugly porn bitches. I am so behind it hurts. I'll see you later for the Sensible Foods hand-off. I'm sure I'll be in touch before that though.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-945089007255898713?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/945089007255898713/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=945089007255898713' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/945089007255898713'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/945089007255898713'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/09/out-of-touch.html' title='Out of Touch.'/><author><name>Buck</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06541339880746939682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-2237177093088788290</id><published>2007-09-26T15:28:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-26T15:34:15.212-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Larabar.</title><content type='html'>I ate the Larabar for my lunch. That is, before I ate Sun Chips.  I didn't like the way the bar looked or the consistency, but I ate it anyway. The flavor I had wasn't all that bad. I had to take a break when I ate it, though. Someone told me that it had enough calories in it to be an entire meal. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_Oc5qgxIQe8o/Rvrdi9lZe6I/AAAAAAAAAC4/6Qpa9kB318A/s1600-h/larabar.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_Oc5qgxIQe8o/Rvrdi9lZe6I/AAAAAAAAAC4/6Qpa9kB318A/s320/larabar.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5114643919549332386" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That made me feel good, but not as good as it made me feel to eat a bag of Sun Chips. I knew I shouldn't have talked so much about how Monday and Tuesday went by so quickly. Today has been the slowest day on earth, and I'm completely unmotivated to do anything.  My allergist prescribed some more asthma medication for me. I think he's trying to kill me.  I was just there two weeks ago and he gave me samples and another prescription. Maybe he knows something that I don't. Maybe he has ESP and knows that I'm going to have an asthma attack soon and wanted to warn me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm back to looking at more makeup and reading message boards about our brand online.  I am so tired I think I might fall asleep right here.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-2237177093088788290?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/2237177093088788290/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=2237177093088788290' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/2237177093088788290'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/2237177093088788290'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/09/larabar.html' title='Larabar.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Oc5qgxIQe8o/Rvrdi9lZe6I/AAAAAAAAAC4/6Qpa9kB318A/s72-c/larabar.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-5087696131974909292</id><published>2007-09-26T12:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-26T12:24:21.734-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pick Your Color.</title><content type='html'>Hi. Surprise, surprise. I disappeared for a brief moment to go and get a pedicure because my dragon claw nails were starting to look horrid. Horrid enough, in fact, for me to have to wear running shoes all week.  So they're fixed now. I love going to get treatments. You know this. So let me tell you what transpired in the past couple of hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My obsession with office supplies led me to buy some of those gel wrist pads and what not for my computer to curb any onset of carpal tunnel syndrome. So I got one for my new optical mouse, and one for the base of my keyboard. They smell so new and plasticky that I want to hurl, but the good thing about it is that it's making me lose my appetite, so I don't want to eat. Just yet.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I wish that the people at the nail place would give me a loyalty discount or something. I'm in there every two weeks. I guess a business is a business, though, so I really can't do much about that. It's honestly the only thing I spend my money on lately. I just need to get out of this debt, and I'll be so much happier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I get hungry later, I'm going to go for this Larabar. According to its wrapper, it has no added sugar, is unprocessed, non-GMO, gluten-free, dairy free, soy free, vegan &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;and&lt;/span&gt; kosher.  I really shouldn't have a reaction to this one. If I like it, it might end up being my breakfast bar of choice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Congrats on your photo being used! That seems to be a constant struggle for you there. How come they always take credit for your work? That makes me so mad. I feel like if you were appropriately credited, you'd be a fucking rock star by now! Help me think up my tagline for my other site. I need it to go up and I need people to take it seriously. Where the hell are my fucking fruit snacks?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-5087696131974909292?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/5087696131974909292/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=5087696131974909292' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/5087696131974909292'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/5087696131974909292'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/09/pick-your-color.html' title='Pick Your Color.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-7875406480315498000</id><published>2007-09-26T10:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-26T11:07:47.774-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Gurl, Fuck That Job.</title><content type='html'>Oh My God. I'm so over this place today. Again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Big Boss just called me and Coop in to bitch about the fact that he's having a hard time reading the text in one of our tiny, 3x4 inch ads. He wants 1000 things crammed into this tiny space, and he wants it to look professional and artistic, but then he continues to bitch if we throw an effect on any text so it doesn't look all flat and like we just threw it on there. Maybe he needs to accept the fact that he is getting much older and his eyes can't see tiny little details when they have to be forced into a small space. I think maybe he was just mad because it was his name that he was having a hard time reading.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ARGH.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway...haha, I got my Sensible Foods snacks and you didn't. I wonder what the hold up is on your shipment. I was just bitching to myself earlier about the fact that I needed to go to Trader Joe's and buy more snacks. Now I can sit here chained to my desk and never have to leave. I'm falling right into your plan, porn people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, get this. We have a new movie coming out soon and we just got the poster in for it. Coop used a picture I shot for the poster and box cover because the Big Boss LOVED it. (Hello, it was a layout I was told to shoot however I wanted because it will "never get used for anything because the model is not usable for any magazine." And now it's a box cover and they loved my style, even though I always get bitched at for being too "arty" and not porn enough. Bite it, bitches.) So anyway, I showed the poster to one of the stars of the film yesterday and he was super-excited and kept saying how he loved the photo. I explained to him that The Boss (not the Big Boss) was really pissed that my photo was being used instead of his and had even fought with Coop over it. So the star comes into the studio this morning, holding up the poster in front of him, and he goes, all loud in front of The Boss, "Buck, this poster is awesome! That picture is soooo amazing and it's totally going to sell this movie. The picture is just FANTASTIC! I'm so glad that picture was used! Awesome."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bwahahahahaha!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-7875406480315498000?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/7875406480315498000/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=7875406480315498000' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/7875406480315498000'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/7875406480315498000'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/09/gurl-fuck-that-job.html' title='Gurl, Fuck That Job.'/><author><name>Buck</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06541339880746939682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-2876680979274993098</id><published>2007-09-26T10:28:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-26T10:33:39.484-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Everybody's Bitch.</title><content type='html'>Welcome to my world. I'm owned by each and every person in my company who has work to do. The boss had to tell me the other day that she is the only person allowed to give me work since she saw that I was busting my ass for all of the other departments.  In fact, anyone who needs anything done comes to our department, so I'm doing work for people and having meetings with people I don't even know. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But you know what makes the day better? Sitting here with headphones on, listening to the music you burned for me. It's really too bad that I don't know what I'm listening to, though. I love this one CD that you made for me. I listen to it over and over again, and I'm sure the people who are sitting around me hate hearing it over and over again. I just don't care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One thing that's good about my company is that we respect the Outlook calendar. If my day is blocked off, then people don't bother me. I put our lunch dates in for an hour, and during that time, people better not be looking for me. And they usually aren't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way, I wanted to get angry with you because last night I had a dream that Lemonjello and I broke up and I was getting my shit out of the apartment, and your ass wasn't in my dream helping me. I woke up angry with you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-2876680979274993098?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/2876680979274993098/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=2876680979274993098' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/2876680979274993098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/2876680979274993098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/09/everybodys-bitch.html' title='Everybody&apos;s Bitch.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-5414610908661493087</id><published>2007-09-26T10:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-26T10:25:02.098-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Get Me Outta Here.</title><content type='html'>No, that guy never responded to my message, but he DID look at my Friendster account. See, he had nothing to say to me. Or maybe he was just embarrassed since I saw on his account that he's "in a relationship." Boys...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, in typical fashion here at the porn studio, one of the bosses just walked up to my desk and stood there until I took my headphones off. Then he goes, "Hey, so I've decided to schedule an extra scene into our shooting schedule over the next two weeks. It's this Saturday at noon and we'll need you to take pictures." Saturday at noon! What assholes. There is so much going on this weekend for us as it is. I have two friends coming from up north and another from down south to visit and take part in all the craziness. But now I have to work. I was like, "Um, I have three friends in town and you're telling me the schedule's changing NOW?" His response was, "Do you need me to change the time on it?" Like moving a noon shoot to 2pm is going to make my life so much easier. I'm so pissed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he left my desk, Coop looked over and said, "Why didn't you just tell him no?" Yeah, right. She has never understood my role here at the studio. It's like yesterday when they kept moving the meeting around in the afternoon. I asked them when it was going to going to take place and they asked me why. I told them I had a lunch date and the Big Boss told me to cancel. Just like that. They own me. I don't want to be owned by a fucking porn company. It's gross.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-5414610908661493087?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/5414610908661493087/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=5414610908661493087' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/5414610908661493087'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/5414610908661493087'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/09/get-me-outta-here.html' title='Get Me Outta Here.'/><author><name>Buck</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06541339880746939682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-737645766416459942</id><published>2007-09-26T09:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-26T09:39:23.884-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fat Breakfast.</title><content type='html'>Good morning.&lt;br /&gt;So this morning, I went to toast my usual healthy breakfast-- blueberry cream cheese bread-- and was embarrassed in the kitchen when two of my co-workers rolled up with their breakfasts-- one piece of whole wheat bread, each.  The thing is, I really love this blueberry bread, but it's totally on-my-way-to-fat-camp bread. It literally has the cream cheese baked into it, so I toast it and instead of just leaving it as it is, I slather honey butter on it. And I have two pieces. They're thick pieces, too. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_Oc5qgxIQe8o/RvqKMdlZe5I/AAAAAAAAACw/l-0dfwjjWhM/s1600-h/blueberry.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_Oc5qgxIQe8o/RvqKMdlZe5I/AAAAAAAAACw/l-0dfwjjWhM/s320/blueberry.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5114552273537170322" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doesn't it look good? What's even funnier is that I also had an orange, so I ate that too, but it dripped all over my jeans and my shirt, so I really look like a fat slob. I fit in perfectly here in cosmetic world. I'm the only person who looks like she's going camping every single day instead of looking like I'm going to a successful beauty company.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay. So thank God I didn't bring any lunch today. I just ate enough carbs and fat to keep me in hibernation mode until January 08. My co-worker brought me a Larabar today. It's banana cookie flavored. Maybe I'll eat that for lunch. Did that guy Derek  respond to your Internet message?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-737645766416459942?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/737645766416459942/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=737645766416459942' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/737645766416459942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/737645766416459942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/09/fat-breakfast.html' title='Fat Breakfast.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_Oc5qgxIQe8o/RvqKMdlZe5I/AAAAAAAAACw/l-0dfwjjWhM/s72-c/blueberry.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-8779820745423959117</id><published>2007-09-25T22:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-25T22:07:13.484-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I was thinking the same thing</title><content type='html'>How about a byline of "Lipstick, Dildos, and Two Friends Who are Fucking Fat-asses"?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or, "Guys' Dicks, Girls' Lips, and What We Do With Them"?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or, "Two Friends Who Like to Complain About Being Gluten-Intolerant When Really They Just Can't Stop Eating Crap All The Time and That's Why Their Stomachs Hurt"?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hello, my doctor never called me back. I KNOW there is something wrong with me. Why are they denying me information? My doctor used to be so good.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-8779820745423959117?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/8779820745423959117/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=8779820745423959117' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/8779820745423959117'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/8779820745423959117'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/09/i-was-thinking-same-thing.html' title='I was thinking the same thing'/><author><name>Buck</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06541339880746939682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-6409094201272516313</id><published>2007-09-25T20:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-25T20:55:57.763-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fat and Fat.</title><content type='html'>You know, I had just typed up a whole hell of a lot of blog and then my computer bluescreened out and shut down, and it didn't save.  I was saying that our blog consists of more fat and food than porn and makeup.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of fat, guess what I ate tonight for dinner? Popeyes Chicken! Before I moved here, there wasn't one close to my house, so I lived without out it for a year.  I was skinny back then, too.  Why isn't there a &lt;a href="http://www.chick-fil-a.com/"&gt;Chick-fil-A&lt;/a&gt; out here? I checked online, and I'd have to drive an hour to get to one. I was really craving a salad today, but I ate all kinds of fattening stuff instead. Isn't that pleasant? The other day, did I tell you about how I weighed myself in the mailroom on the oversize package scale? The needle vibrated and swayed back and forth for like 20 minutes before it finally landed on the number.  You're right. It's the fat percentage that kills me. When I'm cooking and stirring spaghetti sauce or something, I can feel the fat on my arms swinging back and forth. But I keep cooking. And eating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Should we change the name of our blog to "Fat and Fat"?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-6409094201272516313?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/6409094201272516313/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=6409094201272516313' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/6409094201272516313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/6409094201272516313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/09/fat-and-fat.html' title='Fat and Fat.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-5766328400916726287</id><published>2007-09-25T20:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-25T20:22:08.744-07:00</updated><title type='text'>We're fat.</title><content type='html'>You feel about Prison Break the way I feel about Friday Night Lights. The second season starts October 5th, but Yahoo TV decided to stream the premiere episode this week. I just finished watching it and it is sooooo good. I can't handle it. Granted, it seems like they turned up the drama in order to lure in new viewers since NBC is totally going to cancel it like assholes, but the drama had me totally engaged, so whatevs. I can't wait to re-watch it in HD on the 5th.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know what I think it is that causes our sweating? I think you're right that we're fat. But the thing is, people don't look at us and say, "Wow, you're fat." Well, I get that sometimes, but no one could ever mistake you for fat, and I'm on the lesser end of fatdom because I'm tall. The thing is, we're lazy, so I think our body fat percentage is really high. We must have a ton of insulation and we get all gross because of it. Like, it's obvious that I'm out of shape. No surprise there. But would you believe my body fat percentage is well into the obese range? I'm totally not kidding, either. It is. My old trainer told me and so did one of my doctors. I bitch and moan about my body and how I hate how I look all the time, but it's only when I think about the fact that my fat percentage is so fucking high that I get truly depressed. But am I doing anything about it? No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was planning on going to the gym for the first time in 9 months tonight, but here I sit. I think I'm totally going to watch Biggest Loser, too, which is ironic and dumb.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I wasn't playing stalkarama with some stranger. I knew him, and he kept following ME, or walking in front of me but stopping to make sure I would keep up. It was all so weird. BUT, I did turn into a stalker after I got home because I sent a message to him on Friendster thanking him for the random cat and mouse game. Haha. That's what he gets for dating the same dude as me. We're all connected here on the internets, fool.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-5766328400916726287?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/5766328400916726287/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=5766328400916726287' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/5766328400916726287'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/5766328400916726287'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/09/were-fat.html' title='We&apos;re fat.'/><author><name>Buck</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06541339880746939682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-5503436148886246337</id><published>2007-09-25T18:33:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-25T18:45:26.888-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Stalkie talkie.</title><content type='html'>I'm HOME! I just have to tell you that I just had a Buck-walking-home moment. Lemonjello was late coming home from work, so I had to walk home from the train. Of course we have a heat wave coming through right now, so I walked for 15 minutes trying to avoid the sun, and then came home and literally peeled my bra, jeans, and shirt off.  It was gross. This is unnatural. Do you think it's because I'm fat? Do you think I'm so fat that I sweat uncontrollably and can't help it due to my size?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway. Sometimes I try to think I'm getting in a good workout by walking. Most of the time I feel so bad about myself after I've walked that I just want to buy a &lt;a href="http://hoverounddirect.com/"&gt;Hoveround&lt;/a&gt; and cruise home in that instead of walking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So you totally played stalkarama with that guy, huh? Bold. I can totally see you hiding behind trees and homeless people, playing virtual dodge ball with a gay stranger. Remember when you lived by the beach and told me that all of the gays hung out in the woods by your place and waited for other guys to have sex? The things I've learned from you are priceless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Buck. It's 7 p.m. and I'm ready for bed. I was watching the last episode of disc one of "Prison Break" and I was so crazy into it that I was actually disappointed when the train stopped. I think it has to be my favorite show, ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know, I still have this tape and cotton on my arm from the blood drawing this afternoon, and I really want to take it off, but the tape is super grippy, and it hurts so bad to try to peel it away. I noticed that people on the train were looking at me like I was a dirty hooker or something because of the cotton and tape. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're welcome for Aquaphor. Everyone who I've introduced to it loves it and can't live without it. Welcome to the club.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-5503436148886246337?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/5503436148886246337/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=5503436148886246337' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/5503436148886246337'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/5503436148886246337'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/09/stalkie-talkie.html' title='Stalkie talkie.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-7601098869624531007</id><published>2007-09-25T16:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-25T17:15:51.157-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Buck's Long Journey Into the Gay, or, What Happened on My Walk Home</title><content type='html'>So thank you again for handing over some of your travel-sized Aquaphor. That shit is the bomb. I still had one of the big tubes, but I had to throw away my last little tube after letting a model apply some of it to his dick. He had a rash from shooting in the great outdoors and some crazy wave of kindness washed over me and I let him borrow it. When he handed it back I had to think, "Wait, he just touched the tube, then his rashy penis, then the tube, penis, tube, penis...and handed it back." No way I was putting that on my lips again. Not that I apply the tube directly to my lips, but still. Ew.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that being my friend for as many years as you have, you've learned a thing or two about how gay guys cruise each other. Like, how we like to stare and tease in public and then go randomly have sex. Well, sometimes I'm lucky and get the sex. But whatever, we gays are gross.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So. On my way home I decided to swing by the big record store that's kinda not that far out of the way. I got on the escalator going up, listening to my headphones really loudly as usual. I turned to my left just as someone was passing me going on the down escalator. We'll call him Derek. Derek was staring right at me, so I nodded and mouthed "Hi" at him. I continued going up and when I turned, he had totally turned around to stare at me. It was cute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See, I know this Derek guy. We met yeeeeears ago because we always passed each other on our morning walks to work. I had heard of him because he was kind of the rebound guy for this guy I broke up with a few years back. A rebound guy for the one I broke up with, not me. But I always thought he was cute in a regular guy kind of way, which is generally what I like. Anyway, we still occasionally pass each other in the morning and he goes out of his way to avoid me on the sidewalk now, which is weird to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So then I go all the way to the top floor, just browsing, and like a minute later, he's standing like 10 feet away from me. I see him so I take my headphones off. As soon as I do this, he starts to wander away. And to myself I'm like, "Dude, you just obviously followed me all the way up here after you were on your way out, why are you playin'?" So he wanders, I grab a few magazines and go to pay for them. I look up and he's pretending to look at a rack of CDs right by the escalator, but he's staring right at me. He sees me looking back, so he goes downstairs. I pay and go downstairs as well, where he's waiting by another rack, pretending to be interested. So, being me, I just walked up to him and put my arm around him. And then say, "How's it going?" He looks petrified. So he goes, "Do I know you?" And I explain that we met forever ago and who we dated in common and blah blah. So he looks less bewildered and introduces himself, then asks my name. And that was it. He had nothing to say. So I walked over to a rack of movies, and he gets on the next escalator going down. I do the same and he turns around to see if I'm there. He walks out and goes directly across the street to another store. I decide not to play anymore, so I start walking up toward home. I turn and he's standing just inside the doorway watching me. I just keep going, then notice that he's following me up the street on the other side. So I cross so we're on the same side and then cross the cross-street. He gets to the corner but gets caught at the light, so I stop and pretend to text you (I was actually trying to text you but my phone was being too slow). So he crosses and instead of coming up to me, he turns left and goes into this giant department store. So I say "fuck it" and start walking. I of course peered around the corner first, and I see him going into the door really slow-like so he can see if I'm looking. So I keep walking toward home, past the store, and I look in. And he's mirroring me from inside, walking the same speed, staring at me. Amy, he was walking through women's cosmetics. Don't pretend he was actually needing to go in that store. So I keep walking and when I get to the other end of the store, he's gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um, yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was oddly exciting and fun, but what the hell? Was he just playing? Or did he want me to follow him in to the big store so we could fuck around in the bathroom? Cuz I'm not down with that. And I KNOW I wasn't making all this up. It wasn't all coincidental. At first I was thinking, "Damn, my new haircut is working. Men who avoid me are loving my ass right now." But afterward, I was thinking, "That cute guy was giving my fat ass false hope because he just wanted to mess with me and make me feel bad."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatever, I bought two magazines. I'm fulfilled.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-7601098869624531007?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/7601098869624531007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=7601098869624531007' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/7601098869624531007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/7601098869624531007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/09/bucks-long-journey-into-gay-or-what.html' title='Buck&apos;s Long Journey Into the Gay, or, What Happened on My Walk Home'/><author><name>Buck</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06541339880746939682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-2060693946501709940</id><published>2007-09-25T15:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-25T16:14:23.964-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Doctor, doctor.</title><content type='html'>Okay, so I didn't want to post one after the other, but I've done it before, so I'm going to do it again. I just made that appointment with the GI doctor to see if he can send me to take the right tests to confirm my hypochondria-ism about being gluten intolerant. I have to wait till the middle of October, though.  We'll talk about that later. In the meantime, let's talk about how I had to get another blood test done today to see if I'm allergic to garlic, oranges and some other really random things. Who knew that there were blood tests to determine such specific allergies? Anyway. I'm glad the food diary thing is over. I hated writing down everything I ate. The diary ended up looking something like this: &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_Oc5qgxIQe8o/RvmUXNlZe4I/AAAAAAAAACo/di5p7uUSqDk/s1600-h/food+diary.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_Oc5qgxIQe8o/RvmUXNlZe4I/AAAAAAAAACo/di5p7uUSqDk/s320/food+diary.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5114281978360331138" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway. Let me let you in on something about my industry. Remember how I complain all the time about the products I love being discontinued? There are so many things-- from eyeliners to cleansers to moisturizers and what not that are always discontinued and never to be found again.  Well, corporate always has a ton of these things left. So many, in fact, that we don't know what to do with them. Sometimes they are just piled up in product closets or the warehouses, collecting dust.  It makes me so mad because the other day, when I went to talk to someone at Dermalogica about getting my hands on some of the un-reformulated acne treatment, they were telling me that the old units weren't available and just disappeared off the face of the earth. I'm not even kidding. If we ever decide to discontinue something, we either donate the remaining inventory to charities, or we sell them to Marshalls or T.J Maxx or something. But even still, there are still units of each of these products everywhere.  That's what makes me angry. I really could have used some more of my discontinued perfume.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The latest drama at my job is that The Boss walked into someone's office while they were pow-wowing about her. When she went into the office, everyone got quiet, and she felt really uncomfortable.  So she came over to let me know not to trust the people who were in that office at the time. Funny. This means that I have to add those people to the growing list of people within my office that I have to be be cautious around. It kills me. I might as well not talk to anyone. But what's the fun of working in cosmetics with a bunch of women when you can't listen to gossip all day long? I have to admit that it's always exciting. Speaking of exciting, where are my microfiber towels and blanket?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-2060693946501709940?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/2060693946501709940/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=2060693946501709940' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/2060693946501709940'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/2060693946501709940'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/09/doctor-doctor.html' title='Doctor, doctor.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_Oc5qgxIQe8o/RvmUXNlZe4I/AAAAAAAAACo/di5p7uUSqDk/s72-c/food+diary.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-6034416314041048311</id><published>2007-09-24T20:26:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-24T21:29:17.242-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Where are my snacks? Part Deuce.</title><content type='html'>So when I got home today, I totally felt like you. Not sweaty, but like a fat pig. I realize that it wasn't because I ate a whole lot more than normal, but because I must have had an allergic reaction to one of the many banned foods from my diet this weekend. And today. So I get home and start eating. Not because I'm hungry, but because it's dinnertime.  I'm completely full and sleepy, so I lay down for a short nap.  When I get up, I feel like it's time to eat some of that dried fruit that I have around the house.  Never, ever buy the Trader Joe's Granny Smith Apple Dried Fruit. It's supposed to be crunchy, I think. But it's really a hit or miss with this fruit. The batch I got was packaged nicely (it's a new packaging), but the pieces were either too chewy and gross, or nice and crunchy. Crispy, even. But it's not worth the money to just &lt;em&gt;maybe&lt;/em&gt; get a good batch. Consider yourself warned.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_Oc5qgxIQe8o/RviHgtlZe3I/AAAAAAAAACg/nU1HtYD6D9M/s1600-h/apple.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_Oc5qgxIQe8o/RviHgtlZe3I/AAAAAAAAACg/nU1HtYD6D9M/s320/apple.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5113986372941216626" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You have no idea how much I want to get myself motivated to get up and go to the gym. To make up for it, I try to walk the stairs as much as I can. But three sets of stairs in one day mean nothing when you eat like I do. For today's nutrition, I ate some Jolly Ranchers and Nerds, along with some really sugary gum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did I ever tell you about my obsession with flat sandwiches? I think I like them because when I was growing up, my mom used to stuff my sandwiches with about five different kinds of meat, and I used to be embarrassed. I even threw them away sometimes. Back then, I had a bad relationship with food. I just didn't want to eat it. And that brings me to my obsession with flat sandwiches. This includes hamburgers, subs, steak and cheese, or anything that's on bread. Here is an example of the kind of flatness I expect in a sandwich.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_Oc5qgxIQe8o/RviCMdlZe1I/AAAAAAAAACQ/DdMudY5Xd4c/s1600-h/cheeburger.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_Oc5qgxIQe8o/RviCMdlZe1I/AAAAAAAAACQ/DdMudY5Xd4c/s320/cheeburger.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5113980527490726738" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of food, I'm also obsessed with a show on the Travel Channel called &lt;a href="http://travel.discovery.com/tv/bizarre-foods/andrew-zimmern.html"&gt;Bizarre Foods With Andrew Zimmern&lt;/a&gt;.  I mean, it's gross, but I love watching people cook.  This guy goes to all kinds of different countries and eats all kinds of crazy things. Right now, I'm watching an episide where he's in Vietnam, sampling bull's penis and testicles. Yum!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I must have telepathy when it comes to you. You know what? Before I sat down here to write this, I went into my skin care stash and brought out two new travel-sized Aquaphors. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_Oc5qgxIQe8o/RviD1dlZe2I/AAAAAAAAACY/oAk4uUeGHC4/s1600-h/aquaphor.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_Oc5qgxIQe8o/RviD1dlZe2I/AAAAAAAAACY/oAk4uUeGHC4/s320/aquaphor.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5113982331376991074" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yes. Let's meet for lunch. I have an appointment at 11 a.m., so if you want to come late as usual to my neck of the woods, I can meet up. Let's just stay away from Thai. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to talk to you about the way in which news works around here.  This weekend, when we got just a little bit of rain, the breaking news locally was that a third of an inch of rain fell in our area.  Are you kidding? Lemonjello and I laughed our asses off. When there's breaking news back home, it's something serious. A murder, an act of terrorism, major traffic delays due to a 40 car pileup on the beltway, or a sniper.  Here, it's when the rain falls in September.  And what's the deal with the Gas and Electric company? Why do people lose power when the wind blows or when the rain falls? I can't imagine what would happen if there's a major earthquake.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, it's close to bedtime for me. I'm completely exhausted because it's Monday and wish that everyday went by as fast as today went for me. I have a ton of stuff to do tomorrow, but it's easy.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway. I have to do my nightly search online for cosmetics, so I'll say goodnight here. More tomorrow. Is 1 p.m. okay for lunch?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-6034416314041048311?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/6034416314041048311/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=6034416314041048311' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/6034416314041048311'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/6034416314041048311'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/09/where-are-my-snacks-part-duece.html' title='Where are my snacks? Part Deuce.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_Oc5qgxIQe8o/RviHgtlZe3I/AAAAAAAAACg/nU1HtYD6D9M/s72-c/apple.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-5535426827269157502</id><published>2007-09-24T16:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-24T16:59:21.946-07:00</updated><title type='text'>See, that's what I'm saying.</title><content type='html'>I'm not a bitch, bitch. Amazon just saw how many damned books and DVDs I buy and decided that I must be a huge, fat, disgusting couch potato and that I was in dire need of healthy snacks so I won't have to be buried in a piano case. Which is all true. Whereas with you, they saw that you always buy food products through their site so you could probably hold yourself over longer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OMG. You should have seen me walk home from work. I lugged my ginormous duffel bag all the way home and up my hill. Along with my normal shoulder bag that was of course holding two big hardcover photobooks from Amazon that arrived today. I could barely make it. I was one giant sweatball. I got home, threw in a load of laundry, then decided that I was far too hot and disgusting and extremely ugly, so I went down the block to get a haircut. Like, I HAD to have it right that second. Why was there an OPEN sign in the window but the fucking place was closed? Bastards. What's your schedule tomorrow? I am in desperate need of a haircut and I may have to do it during lunch over by you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel you on the homeless/crackheadiness of this fucking city. Now you know why I keep talking about moving. You get to escape this place when you leave work and go back to your nice, clean, new apartment in the 'burbs. I have to step over those whores every day. On the way home with my luggage today I was bitching to myself about how awful so many of the people were on the street as I walked through the 'hood. Then right when I was getting to a slightly less disgusting corner, some crackhead dude grabs his bike that was leaning against a building and turns it around really fast and rams right into me. I didn't even stop to tell him he was a fucker like usual. I just put my head down and kept walking as fast as I could with all that extra weight on me (the bags, not my own fat).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I'll get really ambitious this evening and go back to the gym that I disowned nine months ago. Yeah right.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-5535426827269157502?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/5535426827269157502/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=5535426827269157502' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/5535426827269157502'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/5535426827269157502'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/09/see-thats-what-im-saying.html' title='See, that&apos;s what I&apos;m saying.'/><author><name>me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oyqO4D0Wl8M/SN58DYMgcUI/AAAAAAAAAVw/Uq3STC_Vzhw/S220/mepink8017.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-1212731971846304801</id><published>2007-09-24T12:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-24T15:04:06.766-07:00</updated><title type='text'>City Afternoon.</title><content type='html'>This city is a trip.  I just went to the skin care place and got some product, then walked to the bank to make a deposit.  On the way, I stepped over about five homeless people who were completely passed out in the middle of the sidewalk, and when I got to the bank, some guy was opening the doors for people. That was nice, but when I got a closer look at him, he had this tissue wadded up in his hand, and it was covered in blood.  Needless to say, I'm very glad that as soon as I get back to the office, I go and wash my hands. Immediately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So thanks for your help with that graphic thing. Thank God I found it or else I'd be working on that shit all afternoon.  Do you know that I have Skittles bubble gum? It's disgusting, but I can't help but chew it. In seven minutes, I have to go and meet with one of the directors here for a half hour. Before I go, I'm going to put my lip gloss on. Sometimes they get mad at me for not wearing enough makeup. Petty, isn't it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just got out of a meeting, and I'm so happy that it's almost the end of the day! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're a bitch. Why haven't my snacks shipped??&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-1212731971846304801?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/1212731971846304801/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=1212731971846304801' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/1212731971846304801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/1212731971846304801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/09/city-afternoon.html' title='City Afternoon.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-6968418235903155866</id><published>2007-09-24T11:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-24T12:10:11.852-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Why so slow?</title><content type='html'>I'm back. I actually didn't go anywhere. I had to work a little on this thing that I have to have by the end of the day today, but I needed a short break.  In a half hour, I'm going to run to the bank and to the skin care store to get something that Lemonjello needs.  So I got an e-mail from amazon this weekend, telling me that my item hasn't yet shipped. Hello? Shouldn't they send me an e-mail telling me that the item &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;has&lt;/span&gt; shipped? I'm getting impatient. But in the meantime, I'm going to try to eat healthy. Tomorrow I have that appointment with my allergist. I hope he's taken a look at my blood test results and determined that I'm just fine with a sprinkle of hypochondria.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shit. I have to leave now for my lunch break. I just realized that I have meetings from 2 p.m. on... so I have to get a move on. More later, when I'm done my work.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-6968418235903155866?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/6968418235903155866/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=6968418235903155866' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/6968418235903155866'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/6968418235903155866'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/09/why-so-slow.html' title='Why so slow?'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-7382191179674540327</id><published>2007-09-24T10:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-24T10:27:04.158-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Yeah, Yeah....</title><content type='html'>I can only dream that one day I will work in an office that doesn't echo with the sounds of "Oh, YEAH, uhhhhh, ugggg, FUCK man, yeah, oh, Fuck that, man, oooohhhhhhh, fuck yeah...yeah yeah, fuck yeah....."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is so loud in here. Why does my boss reject the idea of headphones?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ohhhhhhh, yeah...fuck that ass, man....yeahhhhhhhh, ohhhhhhhhhhhh."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gross.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-7382191179674540327?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/7382191179674540327/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=7382191179674540327' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/7382191179674540327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/7382191179674540327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/09/yeah-yeah.html' title='Yeah, Yeah....'/><author><name>me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oyqO4D0Wl8M/SN58DYMgcUI/AAAAAAAAAVw/Uq3STC_Vzhw/S220/mepink8017.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-5906247437047287854</id><published>2007-09-24T09:47:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-24T10:39:18.379-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I can't say I don't understand.</title><content type='html'>Good morning.&lt;br /&gt;I totally understand how you feel. I know we've talked about this before-- before I moved out here. Unfortunately for me, I was in that rut for five years before I finally got out. And I regret not getting out sooner.  As much as I complain about working in cosmetics, you and I both know that it's where I wanted to be, and where I love being. And I know that fashion is where you want to be. That link you sent me sounded perfect. I wish it wasn't in another state, but I think you'd be great for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of being unhappy, I am extremely fat today. I feel like since I've been on this non-diet, I've been eating way more than I should be, and I feel miserable. My stomach is just overflowing my waist line. I will be eating tuna pasta salad tonight, but today I brought that chili I made last night. I just ate some of this blueberry cream cheese bread that we bought at Costco this weekend. It's one of those breads that needs to be double toasted or it's just way too mushy. I ate it with some of my homemade honey butter with cinnamon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yum. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway. I just got out of a meeting to determine what channels are going to do what kind of marketing for which products. Yay. More later. Check your e-mail.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-5906247437047287854?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/5906247437047287854/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=5906247437047287854' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/5906247437047287854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/5906247437047287854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/09/i-cant-say-i-dont-understand.html' title='I can&apos;t say I don&apos;t understand.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-3142266714705230114</id><published>2007-09-24T07:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-24T08:10:19.109-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Done.</title><content type='html'>I think I'm done. Nothing happened. No drama. No "emergencies." Then again, it's not even 8am. But I don't want to be here anymore. Porn is no fun. For me, at least. And when I see how stressed and crazy everyone is around here all the time, I have to wonder why any of us are doing it. I have a feeling that some of the people in charge stick with this business because they think they're being cool and alternative and sticking it to the man by making a product that is by, for, and about gay sex. Then there are the others that seem to truly think they are making a difference to the world. I mean, I guess I can understand it...there are people all over who discovered porn when they were younger and it helped them realize that that sort of thing existed, men having sex with other men, and that they weren't alone with the feelings they had. Which sounds totally corny, but it's how it worked for people. But in this day and age, with all the free access to sex and porn everywhere, I don't see how we can do anything differently to really stand out and be remembered. My adolescence was much different. I don't know if I ever talked about this stuff with you waaaaaay back when we were in high school. But I would read news magazine like Time or whatever and it was right during the time of all of the ACT UP protests against George Bush (the first one). I read these articles and saw these beautiful men all together actually trying to make a difference in the world and I had that "I'm not alone" feeling. And I wanted to be just like those men (except without the cut-off jean shorts and combat boots). But now here I am making porn. It's not like I want to go out and start doing social work or be an activist or anything. But I would like to be working on something that at least reaches a larger audience. Or maybe it's my own self-hatred and I really want to say that I'd rather reach a more worthwhile audience. Like, even if I was working on...I don't know...like, Nordstrom advertising flyers or something. At least it would be out there in the general population and not stuck in some little ghetto niche. I've dealt with the people who love the kind of work I do now for years, even at my job before this, and I think they're creepy and insane. Sorry, people, but it's how I feel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ugh, this is how I start my Monday? Great.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-3142266714705230114?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/3142266714705230114/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=3142266714705230114' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/3142266714705230114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/3142266714705230114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/09/done.html' title='Done.'/><author><name>me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oyqO4D0Wl8M/SN58DYMgcUI/AAAAAAAAAVw/Uq3STC_Vzhw/S220/mepink8017.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-8471621351149829306</id><published>2007-09-21T14:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-21T15:00:10.343-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Well, it's True.</title><content type='html'>I decided that I would spend the rest of my Friday looking up the positive reviews for our makeup, finding it, and trying it on.  I have a meeting in six minutes, but I think it'll be a short one. It feels like nobody is in the office today. I just went through this one zine I got while at the Face and Body trade show last month, and I was busy calling vendors that were offering free samples to licensed skin care therapists and massage therapists and asking them to send me stuff. Now I have 2.5 more hours to kill, and I might not make it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just read some reviews on this blush we have, and it looks like this strange, fake and ugly pink in the jar, but when you put it on, it's actually quite nice.  I think I'll wear it again.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for coming to lunch. Ouch. My stomach hurts. I just recorded what I ate for lunch and it made my stomach hurt even more. The only thing that makes my trip home tolerable when I feel this sick is watching "Prison Break."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time for my meeting. Sometimes I wish you wore makeup so that I could hook you up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-8471621351149829306?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/8471621351149829306/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=8471621351149829306' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/8471621351149829306'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/8471621351149829306'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/09/well-its-true.html' title='Well, it&apos;s True.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-4726623292824523160</id><published>2007-09-21T14:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-21T14:49:37.746-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Laughing to myself on the walk back.</title><content type='html'>I love when you start sentences with, "There's this woman I work with, and she's a bitch, and..."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-4726623292824523160?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/4726623292824523160/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=4726623292824523160' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/4726623292824523160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/4726623292824523160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/09/laughing-to-myself-on-walk-back.html' title='Laughing to myself on the walk back.'/><author><name>me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oyqO4D0Wl8M/SN58DYMgcUI/AAAAAAAAAVw/Uq3STC_Vzhw/S220/mepink8017.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-2651185657458032615</id><published>2007-09-21T09:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-21T09:57:46.322-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't Hassel the Hoff.</title><content type='html'>Morning.&lt;br /&gt;I was on the train this morning, watching Episode Two of Season Two of &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Prison Break&lt;/span&gt; when this guy got on the train wearing the ugliest t-shirt. It had "Don't Hassel the Hoff" emblazoned across it. And he wasn't kidding.  I just ate a bagel and immediately felt sick. It's &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;way&lt;/span&gt; too much gluten all at once for me.  Anyway. I can do either 1 or 1.30-- whichever seems to work best for you.I have a 3 p.m. meeting on the calendar, and that's it for the afternoon.  There's a serious problem with my neck. I think it's from sitting on the train with my head tilted back on the dirty seat when I want to sleep and listen to tv, or from hanging forward when I'm watching the iPod. Either way, I'm crippled.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a meeting in a few minutes, but you know that. I have nothing exciting to tell you, except that I should really bring in the camera and take a picture of the nasty fridge at my office. It'll give all cosmetic companies a bad name. So... want to aim for 1 p.m.? Or 1.15? Then we might be able to get a seat immediately as people are finishing up. I'm sure your hair looks lovely. But just in case it doesn't, let's stand on the street corner again and do the thing we did last time so that I can assess it further for you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-2651185657458032615?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/2651185657458032615/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=2651185657458032615' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/2651185657458032615'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/2651185657458032615'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/09/dont-hassel-hoff.html' title='Don&apos;t Hassel the Hoff.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-3773576969181283678</id><published>2007-09-21T09:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-21T09:37:59.810-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I used to use it.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_oyqO4D0Wl8M/RvPx0AQcrEI/AAAAAAAAAGo/RTDjWr_gwbw/s1600-h/11206_dt.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_oyqO4D0Wl8M/RvPx0AQcrEI/AAAAAAAAAGo/RTDjWr_gwbw/s320/11206_dt.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5112695877720124482" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I loved the Daily Microfoliant by Dermalogica, but then you helped me find that Face and Body Scrub by that other company, MD Formulations. Is that new? 'Cause I've never heard of them before. Then again, you're the make-up chick, so I guess you always know about these things way before I do. I switched over to that because it has an exfoliant in it and I don't have to pretend to be in chemistry class mixing shit in the shower every morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of my bad skin, this thing inside my nose is awful. My whole left nostril is a different shape and size than my right one. And it's not like I can exfoliate up in there. It's still really sensitive and it keeps getting redder and redder and I just want it to go away. Maybe you can lance me over the table at lunch today. Mmmmmm, heartwarming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I went out to a show last night after work and was talking to my friend about how long my hair is. I told him of my issues with the thinning area and he looked and said it didn't look bad but that there was a definite difference. I don't like that. So I need to get a haircut. If I didn't go to bed at 3 this morning, I would've gone in early and then taken a really long lunch so we could eat and I could get a haircut. But as it is, I am still at home and I should have been at work at least an hour ago. So it looks like we'll just be eating. 1 or 1:30?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and I ate Oreos when I got home last night. Fuck the gluten man.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-3773576969181283678?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/3773576969181283678/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=3773576969181283678' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/3773576969181283678'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/3773576969181283678'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/09/i-used-to-use-it.html' title='I used to use it.'/><author><name>me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oyqO4D0Wl8M/SN58DYMgcUI/AAAAAAAAAVw/Uq3STC_Vzhw/S220/mepink8017.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_oyqO4D0Wl8M/RvPx0AQcrEI/AAAAAAAAAGo/RTDjWr_gwbw/s72-c/11206_dt.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-7257279930392959698</id><published>2007-09-20T21:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-20T21:20:07.566-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Not Important, but...</title><content type='html'>... Have I ever given you &lt;a href="http://dermalogica.com/default2.asp?region=?&amp;location=?" color="blue"&gt;Daily Microfoliant&lt;/a&gt;?&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt; &lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_Oc5qgxIQe8o/RvNFs9lZeyI/AAAAAAAAAB4/Nt5VnseNx5k/s1600-h/Daily+Microfoliant.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_Oc5qgxIQe8o/RvNFs9lZeyI/AAAAAAAAAB4/Nt5VnseNx5k/s400/Daily+Microfoliant.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5112506640743627554" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just used this to wash my face and wanted to share like I do every single night and loved it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-7257279930392959698?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/7257279930392959698/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=7257279930392959698' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/7257279930392959698'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/7257279930392959698'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/09/not-important-but.html' title='Not Important, but...'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_Oc5qgxIQe8o/RvNFs9lZeyI/AAAAAAAAAB4/Nt5VnseNx5k/s72-c/Daily+Microfoliant.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-6165445912817128435</id><published>2007-09-20T16:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-20T17:24:25.140-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Supplies.</title><content type='html'>I know you're at your other job now and I won't get a response to this post 'til tomorrow, but The Boss is gone for the day and I just don't know what to do. Since Lemonjello wants to work out, I just don't see myself going home early. That way, he can work out and then come and get me. We decided that we were going to make tuna sandwiches today. I love tuna and the mercury poisoning that is possible with the tuna.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was so uneventful at my job that all I did that was worthwhile was help one girl to find various shades of eyeshadows and eat a popsicle.  I love that this company just lets you order office supplies that you need and don't give a damn what it is, as long as your department has budgeted for office supplies. Today I ordered a new mouse.  The one I have isn't smooth. I mean, it works, but it's not like the one I have at home where it's all quiet and smooth and flowy. When I'm cutting and pasting shit all day, the sound of the clicking on the mouse is so annoying to me that I get a headache every time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm also obsessed with the air dusters that get cold when you spray down your keyboard.  I use it almost everyday, but the irony is that my desk is a big mess all day long.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did I tell you about the new nail tech that did my nails today? I normally have this nice lady named Mimi who does a great job on my nails, and shapes them just right, but today I had the owner of the joint do my nails. I was so excited because I thought that the owner surely had the best skills out of all of them, but she was so busy barking out orders to her minions in Vietnamese that she hardly paid any attention to my nails. She told me that she was going to change the shape of my nails because square was "more professional," and proceeded to cut my nails straight across and then lightly file them down. I swear to God they look like tabletops. Completely square at the ends. Of course, I pulled an Asian and was completely quiet and didn't object the entire time while she filed them down even straighter.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I watched her as she corralled about 40 customers into her tiny little shop, promising "manicure and pedicure" to each of them when she clearly didn't have enough people. Now if I was her, I would have told them that if they didn't have an appointment, it would take x or y amount of time before someone could get to them. But it just wasn't like that here. It was like the more people that came in, the bigger her place got, and the more nail technicians started to work there-- all in her mind.  It was like downtown Vietnam and a whole lot of American tourists up in there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In any case, I also accidentally hit my wet nail against the fan that was drying it, and I didn't have a chance to flag my nail tech down to ask her to fix it. So I left with it jacked up. I wish I could do nails. If the stereotype was right, I would be able to do my own nails and wax. I hate waxing. That's why I could never work in a spa that I didn't own. I hope waxing becomes so passe that people don't want to do it anymore. If everyone just got laser like they should, the spa world would be a much better place for me. Then people who came to me for skin care treatments wouldn't end up with jacked up eyebrows and bikini lines and half-waxed, half-bleeding underarms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OMG. I just overheard one of my co-workers telling her team that she can't stand reading anymore e-mails where our customers blame us for everything from epileptic seizures to cancer. It's true. If you work at any cosmetic company, people will find ways to taunt your ass and get money from you.  They'll tell you that your lipstick gave them herpes and your face cream gave them Vitiligo and that by accidentally breathing in your loose powder, they ingested some of the products into their lungs and now have lung cancer. It's the most exciting place to work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yay. It's just about time for me to leave. I have the first season of "Prison Break" Season II to watch on the iPod on the way home today. It makes the time go by so fast. I hope you survived job 2 tonight. One day we'll have enough money so we won't need to work. More tomorrow, unless something exciting happens tonight.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-6165445912817128435?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/6165445912817128435/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=6165445912817128435' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/6165445912817128435'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/6165445912817128435'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/09/supplies.html' title='Supplies.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-1489904141410685488</id><published>2007-09-20T13:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-20T14:38:38.752-07:00</updated><title type='text'>OMG.</title><content type='html'>I just about fell off my chair laughing. That picture trips me out! And it's great quality, too. Too bad I don't even have my own camera to use. In any case, if I took any pictures around here, it would be really obvious where I work. After all, branding is our forte!  I meant to write earlier, but more interesting stuff has happened between this morning and right now. Like, I went to get a manicure.  I do this really often, but it never ceases to amaze me how these little nail shops work. The ones that are owned by Asians trip me out because I totally see my parents in each and every single one of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They always allow walk-ins so they can make as much money as possible, but when people make appointments, they don't really make time for them, or have a technician ready to take them when they come in. It's all about cramming as many people in as possible and rushing through services. Today in particular, the place was crazy busy and the nail techs were talking all loud to each other in their native tongue and it sounded like a group of chickens clucking really loudly at each other. You would have loved it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The leasing company of my building is having an ice cream social for us today, so that we can meet the other occupants of our building and talk to each other. I'm not interested in that, but I am interested in ice cream, so I just went down and got a fruit popsicle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yum.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-1489904141410685488?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/1489904141410685488/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=1489904141410685488' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/1489904141410685488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/1489904141410685488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/09/omg.html' title='OMG.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-7387931414353423488</id><published>2007-09-20T13:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-20T13:30:00.791-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This is my reality</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_oyqO4D0Wl8M/RvLX5q-3ryI/AAAAAAAAAGg/UfEJWNgt58E/s1600-h/toys.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_oyqO4D0Wl8M/RvLX5q-3ryI/AAAAAAAAAGg/UfEJWNgt58E/s320/toys.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5112385912809434914" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really hope this doesn't piss off the blogger people, or my bosses if they stumble across this blog and see that it's me calling them assholes,  but I just had to post a picture of my daily reality around this office. Pay special attention to the multi-colored baby carrots in the bottom right corner. They are seriously the size of fingers. Vile.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-7387931414353423488?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/7387931414353423488/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=7387931414353423488' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/7387931414353423488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/7387931414353423488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/09/this-is-my-reality.html' title='This is my reality'/><author><name>me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oyqO4D0Wl8M/SN58DYMgcUI/AAAAAAAAAVw/Uq3STC_Vzhw/S220/mepink8017.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_oyqO4D0Wl8M/RvLX5q-3ryI/AAAAAAAAAGg/UfEJWNgt58E/s72-c/toys.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-5452527720577548787</id><published>2007-09-20T11:04:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-20T11:37:42.486-07:00</updated><title type='text'>No I didn't...</title><content type='html'>...send you the word of God. But I sure haven't done one productive thing since I got into work today except for eat another bag of apple harvest treats. I think it's a ripoff. Why are there so few snacks in each of the bags?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, you can use the product in your nose. But be careful. I may just give you some lancets so that you can stick whatever it is and get the gross out. I have a whole rack of individually wrapped lancets that are disposable. I'll remember to bring them next time, if you want to do surgery on yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am feeling so gross right now. I shouldn't have worn a sweater. I know it's cold out, but I am sitting at my desk sweating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So it's before lunch, and still nothing exciting to tell. So I'm off to go and get my manicure now. For real this time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-5452527720577548787?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/5452527720577548787/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=5452527720577548787' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/5452527720577548787'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/5452527720577548787'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/09/no-i-didnt.html' title='No I didn&apos;t...'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-1397394196378004469</id><published>2007-09-20T09:51:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-20T09:52:32.947-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Um, no.</title><content type='html'>Did you send me this disguised as some crazy person? Or is it just spam? I am totally scared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Beloved,&lt;br /&gt;             Greetings to you in the name of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ,I am very much glad in the Lord Jesus to write you. First of all I Praise God, that He have given me an opportunity to share my Ministry activities with you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;             I am G. Ezra A. Kumar along with my wife I am doing ministry. We completed theological Education. As God lay burden in our hearts we are reaching unreached. I love to share with you what God is doing in our lives and in our ministry.The spirit of the Lord God is upon me; because the Lord hath anointed us to preach good news. He hath sented us  to bind up the brokenhearted,to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are bound. Isaiah 61:1&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;           We are doing the Lords work on faith lines. Our vision and burden is Gospel work reaching the unreached and help the needy . In a month we visited number of villages, conducting street Gospel meetings, street Evangelism, tracts distribution, praying for the sick, prayer cells, youth and children Bible class, Gospel Crusades etc. God is doing so many miracles in our ministry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;           In our target areas most of the people are in below the poverty line they every suffering for their daily bread and clothes. So many orphan children are here. I want to tell you that I don't have children. when I saw the children I feel to help the orphans. God given so much desire in my heart and in my wife's heart to help the needy children. Now As the spirit of God leads me I am writing to you. I want to help them and my desire is to put an orphanage. So please pray on this. I love to share with you this things.Your kind involvement in our work will enable us to go more forward in His mighty work. We are doing ministry by faith.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;script&gt;&lt;!-- D(["mb","soon.You please pray fore very thing. I love to hear from you soon.\u003cbr\&gt;\u003cbr\&gt;Yours in His Services\u003cbr\&gt;Ezra Anand Kumar G\u003cbr\&gt;Evangelist.\n\u003cbr\&gt;\u003cbr\&gt;\u003cbr\&gt;\u003cbr\&gt;\n",0] ); D(["ce"]);  //--&gt;&lt;/script&gt;             Please kindly pray for our faith ministry, As we are doing His work on faith lines, we need your kind prayers and encouragement.  Please kindly pray for us.I love to hear from you also. Please write to me about you. Awaiting for your  reply soon.You please pray fore very thing. I love to hear from you soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yours in His Services&lt;br /&gt;Ezra Anand Kumar G&lt;br /&gt;Evangelist.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-1397394196378004469?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/1397394196378004469/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=1397394196378004469' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/1397394196378004469'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/1397394196378004469'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/09/um-no.html' title='Um, no.'/><author><name>me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oyqO4D0Wl8M/SN58DYMgcUI/AAAAAAAAAVw/Uq3STC_Vzhw/S220/mepink8017.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-716428106724770952</id><published>2007-09-20T09:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-20T09:45:22.657-07:00</updated><title type='text'>When it hurts so bad...</title><content type='html'>So I have to tell you a few things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, I am not wearing any underwear today. I had a few clean pairs here at the office, but since my luggage is still sitting here from our shoot, I didn't have them to wear this morning. I also desperately need to do laundry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second, my nose hurts so badly that my eyes are tearing up. I have a zit or ingrown hair or something right on the inside of my nostril. I think I may have half-popped it this morning while blowing my nose, but it hurts sooooo fucking bad. I didn't think I could use any of the many delightful products you've given me on the INSIDE of my nose, so I'm just going to suffer. Sleeping up in the freezing cold of the mountains fucked my sinus cavities. I woke up every morning with a dry bloody nose. And I forgot to take my nose hair trimmers, so things got a little messy up in there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it hurts just to breathe and I want to die. I am stressed about that and the fact that I don't have time to do laundry before Saturday night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, I bought some more Nana cookies this morning. Did you like the ones I gave you or no? I bought another one of the mini tubs but this time they had ginger spice flavor. Not bad. Still chalky. I also bought some more berry vanilla bars. Eh. Oh, and I bought the crunchy apple snacks and also some of the cheery berry mix version. I didn't realize that they had both organic and non-organic versions of the treats. The cheaper ones were non-organic, of course, and all the reviews I read of the organic ones said that Amazon always sent the wrong kind (ie, non-organic). So I decided just to get the non-organic because they were cheaper and I want us to get even closer to cancer. Cancer, baby, cancer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-716428106724770952?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/716428106724770952/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=716428106724770952' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/716428106724770952'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/716428106724770952'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/09/when-it-hurts-so-bad.html' title='When it hurts so bad...'/><author><name>me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oyqO4D0Wl8M/SN58DYMgcUI/AAAAAAAAAVw/Uq3STC_Vzhw/S220/mepink8017.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-2772458877031118789</id><published>2007-09-20T09:25:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-20T09:30:22.687-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Crunchy Apple Morning.</title><content type='html'>Okay. So I bought FOUR bags of those snacks. I've eaten &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;three&lt;/span&gt; of them. &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Three!&lt;/span&gt; And my order hasn't come yet. I am so mad.  Anyway, I'm glad to hear that you're back into the swing of tv-watching night. And I am so glad to hear that you didn't watch "Kid Nation." It was so embarrassing. This morning I came into work with swollen eyes because yesterday one of my co-workers re-introduced me to those Li Hing Mui dried plums that you find so disgusting. Each piece has about 1200 grams of sodium, and I ate about four of them.  I could hardly open my eyes this morning. I am &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;so&lt;/span&gt; true to my roots this morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of food, let's do Thai tomorrow, at our spot. I'm paying, and we have to get their early or later because the place is packed at noon. Which do you prefer?  Or, we could go to the one downtown that we went to a while back. It didn't seem crowded at all-- it's the place near the mall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't have any news yet this morning because it's still early.  I have to go downstairs now and stalk some product. I'll write more in a bit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-2772458877031118789?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/2772458877031118789/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=2772458877031118789' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/2772458877031118789'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/2772458877031118789'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/09/crunchy-apple-morning.html' title='Crunchy Apple Morning.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-959090442564848535</id><published>2007-09-19T22:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-20T09:21:34.617-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My poor tummy.</title><content type='html'>Yeah, let's totally do lunch Friday. I have so much shit to catch up on the next two days, but fuck that job, I need to see my girl and eat some food.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(BTW, I'm ordering some apple Sensible Food snacks after I'm done typing here, so when I get them, I'll give half the case to you and you can give half the case of tropical mix to me since I love that kind.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just got back from Coop's house for the premiere party of ANTM. Two girls and three 'mos screaming and talking the entire time. I didn't hear but three words that any of those bitches said. I have a looooong day tomorrow so I was planning to go to bed like 40 minutes ago. But there is some kind of bullshit going on outside that involves jackhammers and it is 10:30 at night. This is unacceptable. They have had so many water main problems the last few months that it's getting ridiculous. I wonder how late they're going to go...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, Coop decided she wanted to make tuna melts for everyone, which of course I can't eat, so I went and got tacos. Mmmmm....Then we ate tons of ice cream, which my stomach was not happy with but my taste buds sang "Hallelujah!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I forgot to tell you that I called my doctor today and they STILL don't have the results from my tests two weeks ago. That's never happened before. They told me to call back tomorrow afternoon. I would really like drugs to kill this shit before it continues to get worse. My poor, poor intestines.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would reallllllly, reallllly like to not have to go into work tomorrow. I am sweating just thinking about it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-959090442564848535?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/959090442564848535/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=959090442564848535' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/959090442564848535'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/959090442564848535'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/09/my-poor-tummy.html' title='My poor tummy.'/><author><name>me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oyqO4D0Wl8M/SN58DYMgcUI/AAAAAAAAAVw/Uq3STC_Vzhw/S220/mepink8017.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-4769766006031037744</id><published>2007-09-19T19:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-19T20:18:46.621-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Haven't Quit Yet, Part I.</title><content type='html'>I'm home. Finally. This afternoon, at the last minute, I helped another department clean up a HUGE spreadsheet so that we could finalize a massive deal with an account. This is my problem. I am the go-to girl for every department, so when people don't know who to ask for shit, they come to me. So I'm everybody's bitch. I spent the last two hours of my day cutting, pasting and going blind with numbers so that a totally separate department could make some money. The boss doesn't like me helping other departments because she thinks they'll take advantage of me, but I think it's because she doesn't want to share my breadth of talent with everyone. Just kidding. I think she's really trying to help me to grow a backbone. So far, it hasn't worked. My philosophy is that I help when I can, and if I have time, I'll take all of that time to help someone else. After all, it's all the same company. And if one department doesn't make its numbers, then my bonus isn't that big at the end of the year. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The fruit things on amazon are cheap by the case. You know I can't do math, so I don't know what it breaks down to, but it's actually on a discount right now, so it's like $26 or something for 24 packets. Lemonjello just helped me figure this out, so its about $1.08 a package, as opposed to $1.99 at the store. You know, the fruit thing tasted so familiar, and I realized why. Do you remember that I told you about this dried apple thing at Trader Joes? It's in the dried fruit aisle, and it's dried granny smith apples. Anyway, I ate the whole bag when I got it back in the day, but I didn't really like it so much. But these Sensible Snacks are different because they have all kinds of great fruit in it. I actually favor the apple, but I ordered the Tropical Mix.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me tell you about how petty some people are at my job. One department called me today to ask me if I had something they needed for a legit business-related reason. Without revealing what it is, I'll just say it was packaging supply. Let's say it was bubble wrap.  So the department asked me if I had a lot of bubble wrap, and my department only had a little, so I went to the department that normally has a ton of bubble wrap and asked them if they could spare a square.  They told me that they didn't have enough, and that if I really needed it, I could order some but that it would be very, very expensive.  So that was fine. I went to tell the other department that I couldn't spare any, but that I would go ahead and order it for my own department and share. And sure enough, that shit was expensive for what I was getting. I placed an order and it cost our department almost $200. I didn't even clear it with The Boss, but I know we'll need those supplies, and it would last us a long time.  Now here's the fucked up part. I KNOW that there were squares to spare in the other department. They weren't trying to help us out.  I just don't get the mentality behind that. If you can help, help. If you can't, at least be civil. The world will be a better place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lemonjello and I ate grilled gouda cheese sandwiches and tomato bisque tonight. I need to start writing down my recipes because I never remember what I put in them and I can't duplicate them after I make them. So from now on, I'll put the recipes here. Here is how to make my tomato bisque:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1 big can of crushed tomatoes. Not the normal sized can. The size bigger.&lt;br /&gt;1 cup of beef broth&lt;br /&gt;1/2 block of cream cheese&lt;br /&gt;1 tbsp milk&lt;br /&gt;2 tbsp brown sugar&lt;br /&gt;Diced onions&lt;br /&gt;Red Pepper Flakes&lt;br /&gt;Pepper&lt;br /&gt;Butter&lt;br /&gt;Basil&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heat about a teaspoon of butter over medium high heat.&lt;br /&gt;Add diced onions and cook until translucent.&lt;br /&gt;Add crushed tomatoes and beef broth and bring to a boil&lt;br /&gt;Add cream cheese and milk, and stir.&lt;br /&gt;Add the brown sugar, pepper flakes, and basil and let simmer for about 15-20 minutes on low heat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was yum. Totally fattening, but yum. And I'm sure the bread wasn't great for me either, but I get to eat everything I want for the next couple of days or so before I get my formal diagnosis and can't eat anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So tonight is the premiere of "Kid Nation." I want to throw up. This is the dumbest show, ever. These kids act like they're 50 years old, except that they all cry all the time.  Weak bitches.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay. So that's all for the day. Do you have time to do lunch with me this week? Maybe Friday? I have to get my nails done tomorrow at lunch. First priority.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-4769766006031037744?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/4769766006031037744/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=4769766006031037744' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/4769766006031037744'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/4769766006031037744'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/09/i-havent-quit-yet-part-i.html' title='I Haven&apos;t Quit Yet, Part I.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-5431853774117831167</id><published>2007-09-19T15:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-19T15:10:35.699-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I quit, part 1</title><content type='html'>I totally keep forgetting to check Amazon to see how much the Sensible Foods snacks are on there. I have avoided buying them at Walgreens because they're so goddamned expensive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been downing dark chocolate covered orange sticks. Mmmm. Also, I went to the farmer's market and bought flowers and apples. I figured that since the boss told me not to come in that I was allowed to take a break 20 minutes after showing up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't have any new stories to share except to once again tell you that it is SO FUCKING LOUD in my office. Now that we're all back, it's like a riot all the time. My Asian assistant was telling me how nice and easy it was around the office with The Boss on location and now that he's back everything seems fucked. Bwahahahaha. It is. But we're all debating what to call the film that we just shot in the mountains. The Director is dead set on the dumbest fucking title known to man and the rest of the company hates it. We've come up with a million alternatives but everything has been shot down. So dumb.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS, my new camera is STILL not here. I am not comfortable having all that money just sitting in a USPS office somewhere. Those are the same assholes that confirmed delivery of some ebay items to me and then actually delivered them TWO MONTHS later. More assholes in this world.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-5431853774117831167?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/5431853774117831167/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=5431853774117831167' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/5431853774117831167'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/5431853774117831167'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/09/i-quit-part-1.html' title='I quit, part 1'/><author><name>me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oyqO4D0Wl8M/SN58DYMgcUI/AAAAAAAAAVw/Uq3STC_Vzhw/S220/mepink8017.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-3690433483169680525</id><published>2007-09-19T13:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-19T14:07:30.382-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Love Work Drama.</title><content type='html'>That sucks that you have to go into work and have all that drama happen after being away with those bastards all week. I can sometimes say the same thing about this place, but people are too busy going to meetings to be up in everyone's business. But only sometimes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So let me tell you what adventure I just had. I walked to the store that you said had my fruit snacks. I was in there for about 30 minutes, looking at each and every aisle, including makeup, toiletries, etc. I couldn't find the fruit. And since I was really only there to avoid the surcharge from Bank of America when I take money from the ATM by buying something and getting cash back, I was pissed because I don't need anything from the drugstore. Ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally decided to ask someone, because I &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;did&lt;/span&gt; see in the window. As I was about to go and flag someone down, I came across this big motherfucking wooden stand right in the middle of the floor. It was about my height with a big ass sign on it that said "SENSIBLE FOODS CRUNCH DRIED SNACKS."  So I felt like an ass and bought four: two apple, and two tropical. Now you're asking me why I bought those four bags when I'm expecting 24 bags to come to me sometime this week from amazon, right? It's because I'm a fat pig and I want to try it now. It came to $9.34 (I also got two bags of Skittles) and I'm so pissed that I paid that much ($1.99 a bag) for such a small bag of snack. When I shook the package, it reminded me of the tinny sound that the freeze-dried ice cream made in those packages that we used to get at the Air and Space Museum.  I hope it tastes like it! I love that shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I haven't eaten them yet because when I got up there to pay, I accidentally hit "credit" instead of "debit" and I had to buy something else to get the cash back. So I bought a pack of gum and then started chewing it.  The real reason I needed cash back was because I planned on getting a manicure. By the time I finished scouring the store, it was super late. The boss is actually out right now getting a spa service, but I estimated that she would be back in about a half hour or so (she went long before I left), so it was perfect timing to get the manicure.  When I left the store, I realized that I didn't have my cell phone to look at the time, but when I was crossing the street, I saw one of the many big ass clocks that are stuck to the buildings downtown and it said it was 2.10 p.m.! That would have meant that I spent 40 minutes looking for the fruit snacks.  So I hurriedly came back to the office. When I passed the big clock on my floor, it said it was actually 1.50 p.m., so I was pissed. What's the use of having a fucking clock for everyone to see when it has the wrong time on it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just ate the dried fruit. It totally tastes familiar, like something I've clearly eaten before. And it's equivalent to 1/2 a cup of fruit. That's really not a lot, considering that I paid a fortune for it, But it's so good. And it's better that I'm eating these than shortbread cookies. When I get the case, I'll give you half. That day, be sure to bring a big bag. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I gotta get back to working. The rest of my team just got back from a meeting and I look like I'm on vacation sitting here at my desk.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-3690433483169680525?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/3690433483169680525/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=3690433483169680525' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/3690433483169680525'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/3690433483169680525'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/09/i-love-work-drama.html' title='I Love Work Drama.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-7631180265932181309</id><published>2007-09-19T13:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-19T13:39:01.208-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This seriously needs to end.</title><content type='html'>Okay, so I got my shit together, took a shower and trekked to the office. Coop even called me at like 11:30 to ask if I was coming in. She was worried that I might not show up and she'd have to deal with the bosses on her own. Once I got one block away from the office, The Boss called me and goes, "I was just calling you to tell you not to come in today." Um, what? It is 1 o'fuckingclock and NOW is when you decide to tell me to take the day off? I already made the fucking effort to get up and drag my ass all the way over here, so I told him I was almost there and I would just come in. What an ass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So when I get here, I'm still starving, so I sat with Coop downstairs to eat. She told me about the boss of our sister company and how he hasn't responded to any email that she and the Big Boss have sent in the last week and how it's important because we need information from him before we can release his next movie (all the legal shit that goes on a box). So we bitched about him and how he always pulls this shit and out of nowhere, The Bitch (the one I've worked with before) goes, "They've been working on this big project so they've been busy." And Coop and I are like, "But the emails were sent to his personal email account and it's not like this stuff can just be ignored." And the bitch just got realllll nasty with us and all defensive of the sister boss. So I called him out on it since he usually hates the sister boss like the rest of us. And he just shut the conversation down. Like, silence. Why is everyone such a fucking asshole here?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-7631180265932181309?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/7631180265932181309/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=7631180265932181309' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/7631180265932181309'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/7631180265932181309'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/09/this-seriously-needs-to-end.html' title='This seriously needs to end.'/><author><name>me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oyqO4D0Wl8M/SN58DYMgcUI/AAAAAAAAAVw/Uq3STC_Vzhw/S220/mepink8017.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-2861789207497097411</id><published>2007-09-19T11:23:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-19T13:27:13.357-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Where are my Fruit Snacks?</title><content type='html'>I wish I was just getting into work. I also wish that I could just post an image up here to show you just what I'm working on. People who know me will be shocked that I could possibly be writing such fluff.  And speaking of fluff, where the fuck are my Dried Fruit Crunchies? Normally when I order from amazon, they send the stuff within a day or two. When I ordered my gluten-free cookies, they were all here in a couple of days. I might go to Walgreens again if I get desperate today to look in the window to see if they have it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I'm feeling really tired so I'm listening to Diane Krall and my eyes are closing as my typing. I decided not to share my music selection with everyone surrounding me on my ipod dock because one time they laughed when I left my desk and "The Best of They Might be Giants" started playing.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I totally have the same problem when people can't understand a gluten intolerance. I'll be drinking some water and inevitably, someone will come up to me, look in the cup, and ask me if I should be drinking it. Or, the thing that happened when I had to work over that weekend was that they were concerned about what to buy me for breakfast. Eggs. Bacon. Fresh fruit. All of the above are acceptable.  It was such an ordeal, in fact, that they brought me nothing. Except for three Twizzlers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of gluten, I just ate a full-on glutenous lunch. A big ass Vietnamese sandwich. On an equally big ass slice of french bread. It was so good. The only thing that killed me was the fact that they put in the stems of cilantro, so I kept taking bites of the sandwich and then choking on the stems. I'd pull them out of my mouth and they would just keep coming out because they were so long. Disgusting. But now I feel the way I always feel after eating gluten. Bloated, tired, and my back hurts. Isn't that a strange symptom? I was reading about the symptoms of &lt;a href="http://www.csaceliacs.org/celiac_symptoms.php"&gt;celiac&lt;/a&gt; this weekend, and it's so funny. And gross. I won't list the symptoms here, but if you read the link, you'll laugh (and puke) like I did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do believe it's time for a manicure. I'll be back in a few.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-2861789207497097411?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/2861789207497097411/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=2861789207497097411' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/2861789207497097411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/2861789207497097411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/09/where-are-my-fruit-snacks.html' title='Where are my Fruit Snacks?'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-2634686251761238258</id><published>2007-09-19T10:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-19T11:09:30.639-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Long nails and shaggy beard.</title><content type='html'>Ha. You think I'm already at work. Helllll no. It's 11am and I just woke up. I ended up checking emails and paying bills and downloading music and whatnot until 3am. I turned my phone off so The Boss wouldn't be able to wake me up this morning with a, "Um, are you coming in today? There's an emergency to be taken care of and I really need you here. No pressure!" I have to shower and dump stuff from the one bag I brought home from the office. Oh, and cut my dragon lady nails and shaggy, shaggy mountain man beard. Then I'll head in. I wish I had some (gluten-free) cereal. I am STARVING up in here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't even opened my blinds yet so I didn't realize it was chilly fall weather. But it was like that when I was trekking home yesterday evening, so I felt like I was really back in the city. I ended up ordering sushi that was so very good. And yes, I did eat Oreos. But I felt like shit before even eating any of those.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tried so hard to avoid gluten while on the shoot. People just did not get it at all. I would either get the pity look and the "Oh, are you trying to live carb-free? You'll totally lose weight like THAT." Or I'd get the "Why don't you just eat white bread? There's no wheat in that" because they're idiots and don't understand that white bread just has bleached wheat flour (I'm right about that, right?). Or, my favorite, I'd get a "I'm going to pick up lunch but I know you have some dietary restrictions since you don't eat meat, so what do you want?" I don't eat meat? Yeah, no, that's not my dietary restriction, fool. I still can't tell if it's really gluten that I need to avoid or if it's something else. I was thinking of starting my food diary before even calling the doctor to set up an allergy appointment so I could just be prepared. I always feel nauseous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to get ready to go into the hell hole.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-2634686251761238258?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/2634686251761238258/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=2634686251761238258' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/2634686251761238258'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/2634686251761238258'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/09/long-nails-and-shaggy-beard.html' title='Long nails and shaggy beard.'/><author><name>me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oyqO4D0Wl8M/SN58DYMgcUI/AAAAAAAAAVw/Uq3STC_Vzhw/S220/mepink8017.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-4233663587288833728</id><published>2007-09-19T09:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-19T11:08:56.961-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Signs of Fall.</title><content type='html'>I LOVE this weather. Did you think of me this morning when you woke up and it was freezing and windy? I love it. I feel like I'm back home in the east.  Anyway. Welcome back. I just got settled. Answered some e-mails, picked up some office supplies, and ate some yogurt.  Part of my job today consists on finalizing this 800th draft for the training sheet.  What's embarrassing is that for the one I've been working on, it's a training sheet for this one group of products we're selling together. On each sheet, I have to outline how to use it, and what's great about it, and then suggest some more products in our line-up to use alongside it. So, this particular one I'm working on is a combination of four or five different colors to put on your face. So naturally, under the "Other Product Suggestions to go with this Look," I suggested our makeup remover wipes. I wasn't trying to be funny. I just thought it would be important to remove the makeup before going to sleep-- it's healthy, AND it's an upsell.  But when I submitted this sheet with that suggestion to the person who is in charge of handing this assignment over to me, I got reprimanded.  She told me that this wasn't the idea we were going for. I should have suggested some mascara or a lipstick or gloss or something. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How the fuck would I know? I must be the only person in this company who doesn't wear four full-face products at a time. I still think my idea was better. I have to go and correct that shit now. How frustrating. I think that to congratulate myself on a job well done for my new project, I'm going to get a manicure. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I bet you're already back at work. I slept at 10 p.m. last night, woke up at 3.30 a.m., and couldn't get back to sleep until 6.30 a.m. when I have to wake up at 6.50. Nice, right?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-4233663587288833728?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/4233663587288833728/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=4233663587288833728' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/4233663587288833728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/4233663587288833728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/09/signs-of-fall.html' title='Signs of Fall.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-1697450275816271581</id><published>2007-09-18T23:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-18T23:58:04.569-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I went to the mountains and all I got was this lousy rash.</title><content type='html'>Ho.&lt;br /&gt;Lee.&lt;br /&gt;Fuck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am back. And I am alive. I sat and read all of your posts after I got home this evening and they made my eyelids feel heavy, even though I was laughing hysterically, out loud, in my tiny apartment. Our old emails always make me laugh, and don't think you're the only one who saves them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought you should know that I'm listening to the leaked Britney Spears CD while I type this. I'm a masochist, what can I say?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that trip was never-ending. I was only gone for 5 nights and 5 days, but it felt like I left for a year. Girl, it was freaky. First off, the whole cast and crew stayed at a "resort" except for me and the cameraman, Shawn. We stayed up in an unheated, partially-wired-with-electricity cabin in the middle of the forest. This is the spot where we filmed most of this movie. The "resort" was basically a Motel 6 with some cabins in the back. I stayed there my first night because I didn't drive in with The Boss until after 1 in the morning. The Boss and the two models that also shared that cabin had to move the next day because there was NO HOT WATER in their cabin. Or the one next to them. Ghetto.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to tell you about the town we filmed in. Seriously, you would have died. You know how you never go to the South or the Midwest because you're afraid of all the stereotypes of the people there? Like, that they'll tie you to the back of a pick-up and drag your ethnic ass until you're dead? Okay, well the people in the backwoods of California are SO much scarier. I shit you not. Shawn is from the Midwest, near where I went to college, and even he was like, "Maybe we need to roll up the windows and lock the doors around here." The place is VERY strange. It has this weird, like, gay subculture yet it's totally backwoods and dirty. The kids were all out riding bikes and hanging out on the corners and stuff, which is pretty normal in small towns where there's no mall or main strip in which to hang out. But when you drove closer, the kids were all totally dirty and, like, eating ribs or some shit. They were like the little version of gutterpunks you see in the city. Remember back in high school when we always saw the dirty punk kids who hung out in 7-11 parking lots and whatnot (and we were friends with like half of them)? These kids reminded me of them, but they weren't homeless. And the houses! Oh my god, the houses. Well, our last night there involved a BBQ at the property owners' main home (they own three places up there, as well as a place here in the city....fucking rich gays). That house was totally adorable with great landscaping and even their own vineyard (although their interior design was...not my taste). But about 90% of the homes there looked like they were built by 10 year olds. It was like driving through a South African township or something, with all the homes having metal sheets leaning together to form the walls and rickety old steps leading to the door. The scariest, though, were the adults. First off, I have never seen so many damned hitchhikers. Did you even know that people still hitched rides? There ere all these creepy old guys standing with their thumbs up on the highway. The women took the cake. They were all so in desperate need of some leave-in conditioner, I couldn't believe my eyes. You know, I know I'm a city brat, but it's not like I think everyone should be all urban-chic or something. Lord knows I'm not. But it's like these people had no concept of popular culture or TV or magazines or anything to help guide them. It was a town of befores. It was so...rustic, but not in a sort-of-charming farm community kind of way. Like, I expect farmers to be dirty because they are outside working their asses off all day. These people were just dirty because they were dirty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway...the shoot sucked, of course. I know we had a small amount of communication while I was up there, so you got the fact that I was hating it, but it just kept getting worse. The filming started at 8am every day, went for about 6 hours, then some B-Roll stuff, then setting up for the next scene, then dinner (which always sucked except for the BBQ), then shooting again starting at 8pm (and going till midnight or 1). Then repeat. The first day (or was it the second?), no one bothered to buy lunch for any of the models or the crew. I mean...come on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday was awful. I felt so badly for Shawn, who was holding the camera while the fucking director stood PRESSED AGAINST HIM, staring into the tiny video camera screen instead of using a fucking monitor like usual. Like, seriously, he was trying to blend into Shawn or something. Breathing down his neck and shit. And it was while filming a solo, so it's not like there as any direction needed. He also talked the ENTIRE time to the model, telling him EXACTLY what to do. It was so awful. I mean, it's some dude jerking off. How complicated does it need to be made? I saw Shawn start to shake. I totally thought he was going to punch the director. Then today the shoot was supposed to start at 8 so we could jet out early. It got pushed to 10, which of course got pushed again, and we didn't leave until after 4. We literally had everything packed up before shooting even started. Everyone was just standing around waiting for them to finish so we could pack the remaining lights and whatnot. I kind of felt bad for the actors because we did not try to disguise the fact that we were growing impatient with the whole situation. But one actor was/is a complete douche, so I didn't feel too badly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of actors...one of them was sleeping with The Boss the last two days we were there. Um, we give the actors/models/hookers all these speeches about how they shouldn't be fucking around with each other and stuff during the shoot while off camera and then my fucking boss goes and hooks up with one of them. A not-so-cute one, I might add. Just yet another shady piece of evidence telling me I really shouldn't be in the business. I can't believe I've been doing this shit for so long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have more to tell you about my crappy diet while I was there, but it's almost midnight and I'm exhausted. I have to go in tomorrow and continue to work non-stop for them, so I should go to bed. I will tell you that I went through TWO of those big family-sized bags of peanut M&amp;amp;Ms while I was there (which is funny considering that the earlier email thread mentioned that peanut M&amp;amp;Ms were my downfall). I feel gross right now but I totally want to run out and buy some Oreos. Why are those my other downfall?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, jesus, this Britney album is painful.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-1697450275816271581?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/1697450275816271581/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=1697450275816271581' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/1697450275816271581'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/1697450275816271581'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/09/i-went-to-mountains-and-all-i-got-was.html' title='I went to the mountains and all I got was this lousy rash.'/><author><name>me</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oyqO4D0Wl8M/SN58DYMgcUI/AAAAAAAAAVw/Uq3STC_Vzhw/S220/mepink8017.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-445578538131365996</id><published>2007-09-18T14:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-18T16:41:46.141-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Today's Travels.</title><content type='html'>So it's almost 2.30 p.m. and today I decided to take a walk on the wild side. I put aside my love of Dermalogica for a second and went to Aveda for a facial. It was okay, but the esthetician told me to get out of my shirt and bra and get under the sheet, and there was this gigantic window right there in the room, and if I got undressed, everyone walking by could see my boobs. So I got into the bed first, took off my shirt and bra, and threw it onto the chair. I nearly missed.  Anyway. So they do things differently at Aveda. I thought that every facial has the same steps-- cleanse, examine, exfoliate, extract, massage, mask, etc. She did it completely differently, and the time went by &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;way&lt;/span&gt; too fast. That might be a good thing. But she put something on my face and rubbed it in, and it made my face burn like hell. It was fine, though, because I didn't end up breaking out or anything. Then she did the massage the "Aveda way." I think this means that she repeats one massage movement (sweeping up from the elbow to the shoulder, to the occipital on the back of the head) over and over and over again. It started to get old. But I do love Aveda's whole "touch therapy" philosophy where it's all about touch and sensory experiences. It's secretly what I want to do all day long, with no waxing and no microdermabrasion or anything painful.  You would have loved it, but you also would have thought the product was too highly scented. It's very botanical, but weirdly, the ingredient list is really long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway. Let me tell you about what I ate last night. I got home and didn't find anything to eat. I wanted to eat this Wild Alaskan Salmon, but found that there was only one portion in the freezer, so I couldn't cook for both me and Lemonjello.  So do you know what we ate (grab some water because your mouth will get SO dry reading this)?? I made coconut rice (here's the recipe, in case you want to go all out and have a Thai night or something):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2 Cups Jasmine Rice &lt;br /&gt;1 can of Light Coconut Milk (from Tj's, of course)&lt;br /&gt;1.5 cups of water&lt;br /&gt;1 tbsp. of brown sugar&lt;br /&gt;1 pat of butter&lt;br /&gt;1.5 tsp. of salt&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bring water, rice, coconut milk to a boil.&lt;br /&gt;Add salt and brown sugar and butter.&lt;br /&gt;Allow to boil for about 5-7 minutes, uncovered.&lt;br /&gt;Turn heat down to low and simmer with cover on partially for about 15 minutes&lt;br /&gt;Turn off heat and put the lid completely on for about 5-7 more minutes so that rice can steam a little more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That sounds good, right? It was. But then I didn't have any protein to eat with it. So I made some frozen vegetables and threw it on top. Then I saw that we had some frozen pita bread and hummus. So hummus and pita was the appetizer, and the rice with veggies was the main course. Embarrassing.  That food combination was so dry that I almost drank two full bottles of water. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So where the hell are you? I was calling you so that I could tell you to come home. I think you're coming back tonight. Then I can stop talking to myself all day long.  Come home. I'm tired of looking at lipstick all day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh. Embarrassing moment of the day: I was trying to get this new project done and checked today. I've spent enough time on it, even though it's a relatively simple and  straightforward thing. Create an education sheet for each of our new launches.  I submitted it today to the girl who gave me the project, and she sent it back with all kinds of corrections. Remember when I first started here and had no attention to detail? That was it. I had completely forgotten to delete the things from the previous template and then submitted it. Horrifying. But I corrected it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Embarrassing moment of the day #2: I was walking through the office and we have these 6-drawer units where each department stacks a ton of makeup. I saw one of these units that had labels on it that read. "Eye Shadow's" and "Blushe's."  I wanted to throw up. How can we make so much money in this company and be so illiterate?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So come back. My attention to detail is better when you're around. Speaking of coming home, I decided that another good bi-line for this blog could be "M&amp;Ms and Enemas."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or, that could be the title! God, I'm smart.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-445578538131365996?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/445578538131365996/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=445578538131365996' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/445578538131365996'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/445578538131365996'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/09/todays-travels.html' title='Today&apos;s Travels.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1907292440795391155.post-5034628708906745497</id><published>2007-09-17T14:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-17T15:00:46.175-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fruit Snack Madness.</title><content type='html'>You know how I am about getting things I'm obsessed with. I can't &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;wait&lt;/span&gt;. So I'll have you know that I just went to four stores in this area and tried to find them. I found nothing. And, to give you an idea of just how greedy I am, I ordered them already from amazon, and I know they'll be here in a day or two, but I &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;had&lt;/span&gt; to find them and eat them. Today. I text messaged you earlier, but I guess you're in the woods, filming. I wish I knew which store you were talking about. I would go there right now and buy five bags, because this gluten-free chicken stock and rice sure isn't doing anything for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1907292440795391155-5034628708906745497?l=makeupandporn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/feeds/5034628708906745497/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1907292440795391155&amp;postID=5034628708906745497' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/5034628708906745497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1907292440795391155/posts/default/5034628708906745497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://makeupandporn.blogspot.com/2007/09/fruit-snack-madness.html' title='Fruit Snack Madness.'/><author><name>Amy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01156892665133037848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
