My Two Cents

(seriously, my opinion is probably worth even less than that)

Okay, I thought I would weigh in on the whole Britney-naked-on-the-cover-of-Bazaar-magazine issue since everyone else seems to.

I am a total unapologetic bandwagon jumper. There I said it.

My first thought was, "Didn't Katie Holmes already have her baby?"

Once I figured out who it was, my second thought was, "wow, the airbrushing guys had their work cut out for them. They totally earned their paycheck."

I'm sort of ashamed to admit that I watched the Dateline interview and was a little frightened that someone can be so inarticulate but actually WANT to appear on camera. She used so many cliches in that interview, I wasn't completely sure that anything that came out of her mouth was her own. Although that could have changed if she spit out her gum.

And while I'm being a little cranky, I have to say I've been really disappointed in Bazaar lately. I can flip through the entire issue without wanting to read a single article.

And I really dislike the fact that they have two different covers, one for subscribers and one for newstands. Every time I see the newstand copy I think it's new and get annoyed that I didn't get it first as a subscriber. It also says something that I can look at the headlines and not even realize that I've seen them already.

So in summation, without the vitriol, I actually think it's a good picture considering how she looked during Dateline. And that says a lot.

Okay, I'll stop now. I'm blogging from New York and about to head out to the Holy Trinity (Barney's, Bergdorf's and Bendel's...oh my!) to do some recon work. I promise to have happy, non-cranky reviews shortly!

The Postdiluvian Report

Sun? Is that you? I've missed you so much... Please don't ever leave me like that again!

That's right. It appears that the apocalypse which seemed totally imminent last night has passed. Seriously, I was about to gather my beauty products two by two and build an ark it got so bad.

The weather in here in the D of C has been downright biblical. There was rain, lightning, thunder, mudslides, flooding, frogs falling from the sky (it happened in Magnolia!). And while tourists were trying to get into the Smithsonian and my friends at EPA reveled in an unplanned vacation (ummm, what happened to making sure that the water was clean guys?) I was lamenting the fact that I could not get to a beauty store.

Don't worry, the tax system is still working even though IRS employees are out cavorting in the puddles.


However, I did get in some quality time with this month's Instyle magazine with the incredibly awkward picture of Kiera Knightly. Don't get me wrong, she is incredibly beautiful and most of the pictures in the story are great, but the cover shot looks a little pained and VERY airbrushed.

So, a miniwish list:

L'Oreal Professional Textureline Play-Ball in Beach Creme - apparently this stuff comes in tubs that bounce! Perfect for total klutzes like me and it supposedly thickens your hair.

Aveda Pure Abundance hair potion - allegedly this starts as an oil absorbing powder and changes into a volumizer when rubbed in hands. Could be genius for those post-going-out workdays (EVIL CHARDONNAY!) and it also reminds me of those Pop Rocks that turned into gum after they were done fizzing.

Trying the side-bun and not looking stupid - it looks so good on Rebecca Romijn! But let's face it, a lot of things look good on her that wouldn't fly on me.

Okay...I'm off to finish some work before Nature decides that a Waterworld scenario could be rather interesting after all.

A Day Without Beauty

Wow. Chardonnay is evil.

I am totally getting on the phone with ATF (or TTB, whatever they are called now) and telling them that my boss thinks we should make chardonnay illegal.

Awoke with a searing headache and a queasy stomach so I was not able to remain vertical long enough to actually put on my makeup or dry my hair, but off I went to work.

Oh yeah, FYI people, please keep your voices down on the Metro in the morning! There might be people who had a rough night and are valiantly trying not to hurl all over you. Also, your perfume sucks.

I was feeling better after a little help from my good friend Aleve, until I went into the bathroom and got my first look at myself.

WOW!

I am hideous.

I fast tracked into repair mode, running to my desk and cracking the glass on my "only in case of emergencies" beauty kit (also known as whatever is still in my purse) and whipped out my Nars Concealer in Custard to cover the HUGE dark circles and redness that seem to have sprung up in response to Public Enemy #1, a.k.a. the white wine from hell. Getting there...

Then, I added a little Prada Lip Tint #4 to my cheeks and lips. Not quite the death-warmed-over look anymore.

I pulled my hair down from it's semi-damp sloppy bun (more hair will cover the face!).

Okay...mildly presentable.

Now back to clutching the desk to keep from falling off the Earth and seeing what I can do about nuking the winery that made whatever I was drinking last night.

Ask CapHill Barbie

I love questions. Know what else I love? Answers!

Briefing books? I'm the go-to girl. You got a problem? Yo, I'll...nevermind. So that's why I also love question and answer columns. Some of my favorite reading material lately includes the Wednesday Advice Smackdown from Amalah and the Ask a Hill Staffer from Wonkette.

So, bearing in mind that I probably have zero business dispensing advice (although I've found that when I tell people things an authoritative tone they believe me, even though 93% of the time I have no clue what I'm talking about. And at least 57% of that time I just tell them whatever creates the least work for me. Smart, huh?), I bring you my very own Q&A.

I also love ampersands. Although the tilde runs a close second.

Anyhoo!

CapHill Barbie, I have a serious dilemna. I'm about two weeks into my summer internship on Capitol Hill working for Senator BLANK and I've finally gotten the hang of the whole, "stand right, walk left" thing on the Metro. Whew! The bruises from being pushed to the right have finally started to heal.

My problem is this, I try to always wear cute shoes to my cubbyhole in our Hart office (I acknowledge that flip flops are totally unacceptable inside an office building) but I am getting the worst blisters!

These shoes are brand new, a gift to myself for not getting paid a single cent for my hard labor all summer. Sometimes they even make me walk to Russell to drop off papers and mail and such. By the time my fellow interns are ready to head over to the Cap Lounge, I'm ready to amputate my feet!

What do I do about my painful feet? Also, do you think my co-workers could be hazing me?

-Hurting in Hart

Hurting in Hart,

I feel your pain. No, seriously, I feel your pain. Like a moth to a flame, I have a huge weakness for fabulous footware that cuts the bejesus out of your feet. But there are a few options.

First, while it is excellent that you understand that flip flops are not okay for an office building, I am occasionally lenient when it comes to wearing them to work and changing THE SECOND you are in your office, or in your case, at whatever makeshift space they put you in for the summer.

Second, Band Aids can be an option, but I often find that they cause more harm as they take up space in the shoe and force it to rub in another place. Also, they leave the tell-tale signs that you are hurting and sticky residue.

Third, moleskine (which can be purchased at the drugstore or your local camping store) is effective, but kind of creepy looking.

Fourth, and my most recent favorite, BODYGLIDE. In the interest of not being accused of plagiarism, I saw this trick first in Real Simple magazine a while ago and also mentioned in this month's issue of Lucky magazine. I picked up mine at the local cycling shop, and you can probably find it wherever athletic people hang out. It's designed to prevent chafing for marathoners and cyclists during long sessions, but it also can prevent the evil blisters developing between you and you Sigerson Morrison kitten heels. On a test run this weekend with a pair of Prada flats about a half size too small (They were on sale!! They begged for a home!! I am the Angelina Jolie of shoes) and the Bodyglide performed admirably. It's also great just for the breaking-in phase.

I suggest you snag two sticks, one for the cubby, one for home and keep pounding the pavement.

And your co-workers are definitely hazing you. Suck it up. It's a part of Hill life.

Feel free to email me questions you might have about beauty, fashion, legislation, or whatever. Otherwise, I'm just going to keep making these things up.

London Calling

Today I read an article in the New York Times that makes my heart pound with joy and my knees weak.

The upshot of the story: Topshop could be opening a location in New York as soon as next spring.

(Handel's Messiah plays here.)

Topshop is the fabulous British chain store that delivers fabulously on trend clothing at reasonable prices, in the same vein as H&M and Zara, but WAAAY better.

Ugh, I can barely see straight I'm so excited.

You can read all about it here, until the NYTimes pulls it, but they also mentioned that Topshop is expanding it's website in September (although they don't say if that means you can order online...I'm guessing not, because life is just that cruel) and that you can peruse the wares at Opening Ceremony in New York.

Guess where you can find me this weekend.

I suppose that will have to tide me over until next spring...

Unless someone wants to whisk me away to London...hint, hint...

Expect the Unexpected

One of my favorite things about New York is that you never know where you might find great stuff.

In my other life, you might know me as West End Avenue Barbie. I was raised in NY, and although I have defected to DC, I still visit the Paterland often.

Okay, some books you are free to judge by their covers, like the B Triumvirate (Barney's, Bendel's and Bergdorf's), but you could be surprised the beauty finds at your local off-chain drugstore.

When I was in high school, the place to be was a mini-chain called Love's, which stocked everything you could need for your urban teenaged life (except Manic Panic, for which you had to visit Ricky's, which still reigns supreme for the best selection of designer hair products and nail polishes in the 212 area code). There was another place called Good Buy that stocked Terax Crema Conditioner for 3 dollars less than every other store in the city. "Don't ask, don't tell" was my policy on that one. But my hair was soft and silky!

My current favorite hideaway is a place called Essentials. Located on a random corner of the Upper West Side, this twisty turny store stocks the best of drugstore hair and beauty supplies. Including...the Zero Frizz line!

So, I tried out the Curl Rescue Spray.

While my hair is often straight, it does contain just enough wave to make me puffy on the humid days and gives me just a hint of cowlick on the ends. However, it's not enough to pull off that wavy sexy beach hair look.

Because that would make my life waaaay too easy.

I liked the Curl Rescue Spray though, it allowed my hair to wave convincingly without falling flat (In the interest of full disclosure, I did do a little coaxing by twisting my hair and scrunching to make it wavy). There was still a little puffiness, so I raked a little Oscar Blandi Hair Serum (I said goddamn! That stuff smells so awesome) and off I went with the wavy hair.

I recommend this and I also suggest you check out the random places in your neighborhood.

You never know who'll be selling Creme de la Mer that fell off a truck of something...

Let me know if you find any good spots and maybe I'll share my little address book too.

no photo because Blogger hates my guts. Check out the link.

Bucket O' Moisture

I received an email today from the folks at Kiehl's announcing the release of the latest size of their best-selling moisturizer Creme de Corps.

ONE LITER!

Good Lord, people! You can now fill a bathtub with this stuff and swim in it.

It is an extremely effective moisturizer, perfect for those days when The Ice Queen of Winter has sucked the living moisture right out of your body. However, I am more partial to the Creme de Corps Light-Weight as an everyday (or, every day I remember to atually put it on) whcih adds loads on softening without the sliding -around-greasing-everything-I-touch feeling of the Creme de Corps.

But if you like the yellow goo, you can now purchase your body weight in a single bottle.

photo courtesy of kiehls.com email to me.

All Tarte, All the Time

You give me 250 words, I'll give you the scoop. (thanks to 1010 WINS for letting me rip off their slogan)

In addition to the Park Avenue Princess Bronzer, I also received the Tarte Eyelash Curler and the Lights, Camera, Lashes! Mascara from Meg at Meg's Makeup Review.

Not that I have any business even LOOKING at another mascara after the May Madness, but it came in the mail! Fair game! Denial, it's not just a river in Egypt, you know?

By the way, I looove Tarte. I've loved them ever since I stumbled onto their counter at Bendel's when they first opened it and immediately bought the cheek flush and lip gloss. I think their product names are genius (I feel like less of a geek when the lipsticks are named after famous couples, some of which are literary, and I recognize the source) and the colors are always fun and wearable. But lately, I've passed them by at Sephora. I'm not sure why, but lately my interest has certainly been renewed.

As for the mascara and curler, well, let's just say that if Prince were reincarnated as a mascara (that's street justice, people!), this is what he would look like.

I think the packaging is slight overkill, but it will certainly make a statement when I whip it out to reapply in the bathroom at Cap Lounge (yeah, right up until I poke myself in the eye and need medical attention. then I'll wake up and wonder what the hell I was doing at Cap Lounge.) But the mascara itself is surprisingly tame. It left my lashes darkened, but soft. Noticeable, but not wow! In short, I like this, but mostly for the packaging. Also, when it goes stale, I will feel bad throwning it away, since so many little PVC purple snakes gave their skins for it.

As for the curler, I am a faithful Shu Uemura user. This one was a little pinchy on the lids and was a little difficult to manuever without the holes for my fingers. The curl was pretty good, but basically, I'm too much of a spazz for this.

I still love Tarte and will continue to seek out their stuff, especially the cheek flush in a color known as Blushing Bride which I totally plan on giving to every person I know getting married (even the boys! I like it that much!). So, sorry to ruin that surprise, friends who are engaged.

Oh well, I urge you all to check out Tarte's products, if only for the English lit lesson...

photos courtesy of sephora.com

Gold Medal Glamour

On Friday I will attempt a great feat.

If there were Girly Olympics, this would be the biathalon (which is totally the awesomest sport. In fact, more awesome than Britney and K-Fed's marriage).

Drum roll please.

Yes, I will go from work to a black tie (optional) affair with only about an hour to get ready.

Now, many of you may be more skilled at this, but I have little experience with formal events like this. My high school was a little "different" and had one organized event which was the senior prom. So when I had my hair done for it, I looked at it, all crusty with hair spray and curled, I burst into tears. I promptly went home, took out the three thousand bobby pins and washed my hair. It ended up looking fabulous.

I also spent exactly two hours in my dress, after which we all changed into jeans and t-shirts for the after-party

Now that I am older, and still break out in hives from the smell of Aqua Net, I am better at preparing for these things (I think). And while I always imagine that my day before and event like this can be like stars getting ready for the Oscars, where I subsist solely on sugar-free Iced Blendeds and have people wave crystals at my face to ward off blemishes.

It's never like that.

Here's the schedule:

6:10 - Alarm goes off. Hit snooze.

6:30-7:30 - Shower, try to shave around 1 trillion mosquito bites obtained at chic Georgetown party last week, eat breakfast, try to blow dry hair in a way that will stay pretty though till evening. Fail miserably.

8:30-12:30 - Work. Try not to chip nails while checking email, answering phone and talking to various Hill staffers (hey, sometimes you really want to gouge their eyes out! But that would ruin my nails. FYI, I'm planning on OPI Pinking of You).

12:30-1:30 - Eat the healthy-low-carb-low-salt-salad-lunch that I brought to work to ward off bloating.

1:45 - stare longingly at the Cosi sandwich that co-worker is currently snarfing.

2:00 - drink 16 glasses of water to try to stave off hunger.

2:10 - trip to cafeteria yields nothing healthy. try drinking a cup of coffee (it's a diuretic!)

2:55 - get peanut M+Ms from the vending machine.

3:00-4:30 - run back and forth to bathroom peeing from all the coffee and water. Chip nails on crappy government contractor provided toilet-paper dispenser. Curse life.

4:30-5:30 - Metro home and think of red carpet glam hair and makeup I plan to wear.

5:30 - Get home and realize that my hair is puffy, I'm broken out, and my mascara is running.

6:30-7 - Run Sumo Wax through hair and heat flattening iron, reapply foundation lightly, add concealer to red spots around nose and under eyes, sweep on Nars Sin blush, curl lashes, line with Bobbi Brown gel eyeliner in Granite Ink, layer on Vincent Longo eyeshadows in Sweet Dream and Baby Love, try not to poke my eye out with the mascara wand.

Try to flatten hair. Fail miserably.

Scream at boyfriend to PLEASE GET DRESSED ALREADY. He looks at me skeptically as I run around in my underwear with a hot iron in my hand.

Wiggle into dress and curse M+Ms.

Brush Cle de Peau Luminizing Power over cheekbones, clavicles and shoulders.

Spend ten minutes choosing between two shoes that look identical while interrupting NBA Finals game to quiz boyfriend (who is now totally ready to go) on which looks better.

Decide on less expensive shoes in case people get rowdy and spill drinks on me.

Put hair into ponytail.

Decide on lip gloss. Who am I kidding? I take all four candidates in tiny purse.

Tap foot impatiently at boyfriend and hurry out to car.

Remember about a thousand things I should have done.

7:30 - Drink a vodka martini very quickly.

7:35 - Boyfriend whispers that I look beautiful (insert collective "awwww!" or dry heaving here)

7:45 - Breathe sigh of relief, order second martini.

Do you think I'll be ready for Vancouver 2010? Look out, Norway!

Let the Sun Shine In: Volume 2

Fear can do strange things to people. It preys on the weakness of the human condition and can turn an ordinary person into a crazed psycho.

Well, whatever. In the beauty industry, this often manifests as foisting products on the unsuspecting public to fix a problem we don't actually have or to not actually help a problem that we do have.

With sun related products, there is a whole lot of hooey out there, and marketers can take full advantage by selling people the modern day equivalent of snake-oil. (I'm sure I can get that somewhere too). Well, fear not, the Washington Post today examined some of the newest products to protect you from the sun with this extremely helpful graphic. (Mmmm, I so dig the socks and Tevas. Can I get his digits?)

My favorite "are you effing kidding me?" product? Oh, that would be pills that protect you from the sun. Okaaaay. Stop and think for a second. If there were a pill to protect us from UV light, they would be putting it in the water supply. Please! Did you also hear that "gullible" isn't actually in the dictionary?

My favorite "this could actually be a good idea" product? The stickers that change color when they have been exposed to a certain amount of sun. Let's just say that if there were a sticker on me that day in Captiva when I was ten and I spent the ENTIRE day out in the ocean, I wouldn't have forced my parents to cause a run on aloe lotion in Florida.

There is also this more expansive article to go along with the graphic, but then you don't get to look at Mr. Sexy Socks.

Princess Sunshine

Bronzers have always inspired just a wee bit of terror for me.

So when I received the Tarte Park Avenue Princess Bronzer to test for Meg's Makeup Review, I started to have a little panic attack.

With skin whiter than Paul Bettany's in the The Da Vinci Code, bronzer can make me a little more New York Avenue Princess. You know, down where they have the rules about not slowing down or stopping between 2 a.m. and 5 a.m.?

So I was a little hestitant about testing this bronzer. But with it's too-cute gold faux-croc compact, I was certainly tempted.

And then the invite fell in my lap for an early summer party at a Georgetown townhouse. Oooh, I thought, if ever there were a time to look slightly tanned and glowing...

Plus, the Xanax had kicked in.

I layered slowly. Foundation, concealer, mascara, and a swirl of Nars Sin blush. By this time, my boyfriend is pleading with me to hurry and pointing anxiously at his watch. Then, using the same blush brush, a dusting of the bronzer across my cheeks and down the bridge of my nose. Repeat, with an even slighter amount of powder.

It looked good!

It gave me a little glow and sparkle over the pink of the blush and warmed up my face just the slightest bit. I certainly felt as though I had spent the weekend getting a little sun, but maintained a classy, grown up look.

Maybe if I get brave later in the summer, I'll put a little more on at a time.

Or maybe they could make an even lighter shade for me called Wisconsin Avenue Princess?

photo courtesy of sephora.com

But You'll Never Catch Me in a Fedora

I have been invited to join the fabulous roster of Meg's Makeup Review-ers!

I was very flattered to be invited to join. I felt just like DeLay must have felt talking to Abramoff. Wait...that didn't sound right. Mostly because that would make me DeLay...yech.

Meg has graciously provided me with lots of products to try out and I am diligent working to make sure that all get a fair shake. My reviews of the products will appear on Meg's site and occasionally, I will also be posting longer reviews here.

Now comes the question of where to hide my stash...I guess the freezer worked for Rep. Jefferson (for a while).

It's Good to Be...

There are some days when it's good to be in Washington.

Ok, fine, I'm a total DC nerd. I'm okay with that.

This has been one of them.

First of all, I want to wish you all a very happy National Women's Confidence Day!! Wait a second, it's not a real holiday? You mean I don't get a day off from work? Are you seriously telling me that it's just a photo-op for Rep. Carol Maloney (D-NY) and Queen Latifah? And this is somehow related to a lingerie company's launch?

Uhhh, okay. I'm going to file this under the "Congress has waaaay too much time on it's hands" category. Maybe we should take another recess. But Queen Latifah does look fabu with the wavy hair. Wonder if she's wearing the Lash Exact with that...

While I'm all for women having confidence, some have a little too much. Witness Ann Coulter.

Her newest book and subsequent television appearances have unleashed a whole can full of crazy into the world and prompted a massive smackdown from, well, everyone. The loudest of the group? Sen. Hillary Clinton (D-NY) and Bill O'Reilly (R-FOX). Ouch. You know you are in trouble when they agree on something.

My problem? Well, I'm going to stick with what I know best. Beauty.

Coulter is a textbook example of how not to impress people with the way you look, especially in conservative Washington.

She wears her long blonde hair down all the time (seriously woman, get a little layering going on, it will help, I promise), wears thick eyeliner rimming her eyes (and made fun of Harriet Myers! Hello! Pot? This is Kettle.), and shows up for TV appearances at 7 a.m. in a black minidress cut up to THERE. (Imagine hands waving in the high leg area)

I don't care who you are or what kind of vitriol you spout. The last thing I want on the Today Show at 7:30 is bare thigh.

Take a cue from Queen Latifah, Ann. Pick a nice suit, slick on some pale lip gloss with the glowing skin, and wear good underwear. Just don't show it to me.

P.S. They spelled Queen Latifah's name wrong in the Congressional Record! Review and revise! Review and revise! 10 days, Maloney!

no pictures because Blogger hates me.

Trust must be earned

The other day I walked into a shocking sight.

My boyfriend was sitting on our couch pawing through my purse.

I freaked out. Shrieking in a voice that makes dogs start yapping all over the neighborhood.

So many thoughts ran though my mind. Was this the type of person I was with? Someone who would just go through someone's purse willy-nilly? Was he spying on me? Snooping is one thing, but spying is a another! And what the hell did he expect to find in there anyways?

He dropped the bag and looked a little dazed from all the shrieking. Then he looking at me sheepishly and said, "I wanted that lip balm you lent me yesterday."

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh....

My Smith's Rosebud Salve.

Well, it is pretty awesome.

A "cult favorite" of models and actresses, this is one product I think actually lives up to it's hype. It comes in the prettiest tin, smells sort of like your grandmother (but the Strawberry one takes me back to the days when I thought that, maybe, just maybe, my Strawberry Shortcake doll actually tasted the way it smelled. It didn't.), and can totally cure what ails you.

Not totally. It won't prevent a heart attack or let you skip the last 11 steps or anything.

But it gives your lips a nice healthy sheen, sinks in, and doesn't make your hair stick to your mouth. It's also super moisturizing for those winter problem spots (mine is right between my thumb and forefinger where it gets really dry, don't ask why. Because I don't know.) and cuticles. Smooth on a little Salve and go on your merry way.

Not bad for six bucks.

Although I'm sure it won't last as long if my boyfriend keeps stealing it.

Summer of Awesomeness

That's right. This is shaping up to be a summer of sheer mindblowing awesomeness.

As far as beauty related media is concerned.

First up! The Devil Wears Prada is opening on June 30th in theaters nationwide.

The book was (and still is) vastly superior to 99.9% of the chick/assistant/nanny/social climber lit out there. I still credit it for helping me refocus my eyes after the hangover I got from the end of finals party when I was a 1L. Oh, yeah, if anyone knows what I did that night, I'm prepared to buy your silence. I'm just saying.

And the movie lists some pretty big name talent like Meryl Streep and Anne Hathaway (OMG! I love The Princess Diaries!) and Gisele (ummmm, she's really thin and pretty, so I guess that makes her talented).

I'm all aflutter thinking about the wardrobes and the bitchy personnas and the pre-buzz is that the movie is pretty good. I'm also excited to see Anna Wintour's personal idiosycrasies on the big screen. Oh sorry, I mean "fictional editor of a huge fashion magazine."

I'm pretty psyched. Plus, I already have a gaggle of people who I will be attending the movie with covertly so I don't get endlessly teased by my boyfriend.

Second! Project Runway is coming back for a third season on July 12th! Whoo hoo!

Bravo has consistently put out reality television that puts the sure into guilty pleasure (as in, SURE! My Tivo will be recording that! Okay, fine, that sucked.)

But seriously, they put so much stupendously awesome crap that I can't even watch all of it. Blow Out? My favorite lovably psycho megalomaniac! PR1 and 2? Awesome to the 10th power! Even my boyfriend will watch it when there is nothing on ESPN. Top Chef? Well...Katie Lee Joel is terrible but other than that...AWESOME! Ugh, I'm getting hyper just thinking about it.

Also, Bravo is putting out some new shows like Million Dollar Listing, about real estate and the people peddling it, on June 12th, Work Out, which promises to be Blow Out with sweaty people, on July 19th and some true-life movie about a "trinogomous" relationship (two men and a woman). Ummm...that's actually called polyandry. Get a fact checker Bravo! Or stop trying to be The Lifetime Network and do a second season of Real Housewives of the OC!

Third! Okay, I'm out. But that is a lot for summer!

I'm trapped in a glass cage of emotion!

Did I forget anything couch-potato related? What are you totally psyched about?

Blogger is refusing to publish images which I would duly credit here.

Not Just for Beauty: Snooping Advice

I have discovered a neat trick to play on people.

If you are like me and are totally icked out by people who neglect the washing-of-the-hands after a bathroom visit (if you're not icked out by this, start getting icked out. I don't want to have to start telling you stories about the bacteria!) and love snooping on people's private habits, I have the ultimate solution.

Savannah Bee Company Blackberry Honey Hand Soap.

Oh yes, you heard me right.

And you might ask, why is this so good for the snooping?

Well, the soap smells great. It has this really mouthwatering berry-tinged honey smell (all together now, DUH!) that really clings to your hands. REALLY clings. It recently was still detectable after a messy lunch at Pizzeria Paradiso in Georgetown. That's how good it is.

So here is the snooping scenario:

You are on a date with a guy.

You like said boy, but aren't totally sure if he is worth keeping around. You have not seen his apartment yet, so you are unaware of his neat-freak versus total slob personna.

You invite him over to your place for coffee (drink)(movie)(dinner party)(Scrabble)(insert whatever activity floats your boat).

Now, you have secretly replaced your typical Dial Antibacterial soap with the Savannah Blackberry Honey. He will never know because it just looks like you have fabulous taste for a girl because the packaging is so darn cute!

Okay, so you tank him up with coffee or beer or challenge him to a water drinking competition or whatever. Then wait for him to excuse himself. When he comes back, the blackberry smell (or lack thereof!) will alert you to whether or not his mother taught him well.

Arrange subsequent dates (or kick him to the curb) accordingly.

PS This works with friends and family members too.

graphic courtesy of Savannah Bee Company

Derm-a-holic

There is a saying that doctors have about dermatologists that claims there are only three ways to treat their patients' ailments.

If it's wet, dry it.

If it's dry, wet it.

And if all else fails, inject it with cortisone.

Now, this is mostly just doctors teasing other doctors. They also call the urologists the "stream team."

Lately, I've noticed a proliferation of skin care lines developed by dermatologists. Not just skin care, mind you! No...they want to dictate how you eat too (I mean, I'm really supposed to eat that much salmon? Then what do I do about the mercury poisoning, even though my skin is glowing?) One of the most prominent lately is the Patricia Wexler, M.D. line.

Particia Wexler is an extremely visible dermatologist who is regularly featured in Allure, Vogue, etc. talking about everything under the sun having to do with your skin. And liposuction, but I won't go into how wrong that is of her.

One sometimes wonders how she finds the time to have a practice injecting things into people and buying the Manolo Blahniks she wears while she does it. Do they make special surgical booties for stilettos?

Anyways, I picked up a sample of her De-Puff Eye Gel on my big excursion to Bath and Body Works. I have horribly puffy eyes with big big dark circles.

Concealer is my best friend.

It's probably genetic, a result of never sleeping during law school, the fact that I eat a lot of salt and sugar and wash it down with coffee and alcohol, whatever, they are not budging.

So I tried the eye gel.

Mmmm, I thought. Clear, kind of cooling.

A little goopy.

Hmmm, my eyes feel a little warm.

Okay, that's uncomfortable.

Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow!

Get this goop off of me!!!

Washes eyes.

Ahhhhh.

My verdict? Puffy eyes are better than being blind. But maybe that's just me.

Has anyone else tried any of her products?

Also, (to show I make fun of all doctors equally) what's the difference between God and a doctor??

God knows he's not a doctor.

photo courtesy of patriciawexlermd.com