Basal Cells on the Shnozz Are Not Pretty
kim | 15 August, 2006 07:49
One of my dearest friends, who is rather young (Hi!), just had a gnarly basal cell thing removed from her nose. She is one of the healthiest people I know, so I started to not feel so bulletproof, so I went to get a screening yesterday. You have no idea where these doctors look. I was able, for the first time in my life, to put the time-worn phrase, "where the sun don't shine" to use. As in, a protest, a little confusion--apparently melanomas are sneaky little critters and they are good at, er, hiding.. I am in the clear for now; but in my friend's case it was from teenage sun damage. She's okay, but it was scary, painful and she might have
a scar. She is very beautiful and quite fit, so it will not impact her
beauty, but I think that everyone should go out and get a skin
screening right now for skin cancer right now.
I got a few other things done, too, and I look, well, hacked up. So I'm just going to stay in my house and write today. I have so many deadlines anyway.
Creeping Up The Crack from the Back
kim | 11 August, 2006 20:11
Workin' the late shift, slinging mascara, baby. So tired. But the world must look good. So, here I am. (More)
kim | 11 June, 2006 14:45
A fake reader writes in:
"Kim, you've paid a fortune for your website and you pay your hosting company $7.95 a month, why have you been updating so infrequently?
Looking forward to a more dynamic updating scenario,
Not Actually Kim In Real Life"
You see, my hosting company has barred me from logging in on my own computer. They do this frequently and yet I still stupidly pay for hosting with this company. Why? I didn't know there was another choice. I am exploring the other choices right now. Further, the most important company who needs to see my website cannot log on, as I'm sure many people cannot. Why? I don't know. They will not return my numerous emails. This problem will be fixed shortly.
Plus, yesterday I had the greatest bride who I will tell you about shortly but I worked a little early this morning--4 am--so there was a short turnaround and I'm going to take a nap now.
No Lipstick Down in the Cave
kim | 08 June, 2006 08:13
It's just about the busiest and most difficult times of my life. I'm trying to keep my lipstick on, but I don't have time for it. The same things are happening: the talent of a major show I work on continues to be really nice and really insane. Some has-been television stars get snotty with me when I ask them if they want makeup. I have trouble self-editing when certain politicans are on the tv. I have writing deadlines and the kid doesn't take a nap rendering me impotent both as a mother and as a writer.
I'm sure it will ease up, just like everything in life changes, but right now? It's not looking so pretty. And I don't have time for lipstick. Lipgloss, maybe.
Open Letter to Mayor Bloomberg
kim | 25 May, 2006 10:11
Today when I was on the phone with a PR contact, I was startled by the sound of jets flying low past my window headed in the direction where the kid was playing. Yes, everything revolves around the kid. Then I looked out my window at the other sound and there were five fighter jets with their attendant jet streams, or whatever they are called, streaming behind them. Iran? I don't know. So I call Mike and he tells me, Fleet Week Air Show. Great. Fine. But do you think an air show is a great idea for New York City? Even after I found out what it was, I still feel like Ann Margaret in that scene in Tommy when she's in that cage. Oy. I wrote this letter to Mayor Bloomberg. I don't have a problem with the guy. I understand business guys, they have a different perspective than I do and it's informative. But I don't think this was the best idea.
Here's how it went:
I like you. I voted for you; twice. I appreciate you. But allowing military planes to scream through the sky so low, so loud and so often was not a good idea for a city that now instinctively clutches their guts when they hear the sound of any aircraft. Fleet week or not. We like the ships: they carry cute boys to our shores in their cute little outfits, and are more cinematic, in any case. Please refrain from making that agreement again next year. Even after I knew what it was, I didn't like it.
People often tell me I'm confrontational, but I thought I was really nice about it.
kim | 23 May, 2006 12:57
Please see post, "Is this a normal work day?" I would say no, since I'm fighting a terrible infection. Any prayers will be gratefully received. Have to work on Friday, hope I'm better by then!
Women, Power and Choice
kim | 25 April, 2006 22:41
The other day I worked on a show wherein I did the makeup of, arguably, one of the most powerful men in the world. But his wife was like his mother, so I thought of this question:
If you wanted power, would you marry a powerful man? If he was so powerful that he was out of control and maybe whet his appetites too much, would it spin you out beyond control? If you were divorced from him, would you hate his new wife who behaved as his mother/slave/babysitter/cheerleader?
Or would you rather be a journalist, forging your own career in matters that were very important but that also meant that you barely had any money or time and that you would go around to places smelling bad, with bad hair and pimento-colored lipstick?
I just wonder, are there not more options to attain freedom? I know there are, but these other women did not see them.
Non-Toxic Avenger: The Earth, No Joke
kim | 27 March, 2006 13:00
Today I picked up Time Magazine because of it's headline Be Worried. Be Very Worried. I do not need someone to offer that directive, I already am plenty worried, thank you. But this issue is about global warming, something I am accutely worried about. Also, I just picked up The End of Poverty by Jeffery Sachs. What does this have to do with makeup? Well, what it has to do with makeup is that I'm thinking about quitting and becoming an environmentalist or an economist or a lawyer or someone who can help people in dire trouble. Although, daily, I want to go up to at least 50% of the women I see and say, "come here, honey. You don't have to do that anymore."? I really want to help. I do. I just wonder if the earth needs my services more? I mean, the right business right now is sunscreen. That's all I'm saying. 40 SPF, baby. Reapply often.
Crust in the Crack
kim | 16 February, 2006 09:03
I've been working the crack of elbow shift since last Friday, not including an extra job. I get up every morning at 2:30 although it gets later and later every day. This morning I turned?on my alarm clock because I thought it was off when I was really turned it off when it was, in fact, on. That was at 2:21 am when I got up in a panic. I made a delicious chicken meatloaf which I left overnight on top of the stove. In word, I'm toasty, I'm crusty, I'm tired.
And yet the makeup I am doing is garnering congratulatory phonecalls from makeup supervisors across the country. My talent looks great, it's me who looks like shit.
kim | 08 February, 2006 21:34
Kelly Clarkson just beat out Fiona Apple for a Grammy Award. Anyone have a hat and some ketchup?
Also, on the CBS local news there is a promo running for a serious piece of hard-hitting journalism: LIP BALM JUNKIES. I am not joking. We have run out of things to talk about on the news. I am so sad.
kim | 07 February, 2006 22:18
My very first college fiction teacher was Alice Sebold. I came to accepting the fact that I wanted to be a writer late in life, and Alice was the greatest teacher in the world. Her rules about workshopping were clear, constructive and appropriate. Her exercizes were actually developmental and her perceptions accute to a hairsbreath that I had never experienced before. She also claimed that she did not like Henry James. She would say she knew she was supposed to like him, but she didn't. Maybe she was just didn't understand him, that was her nig claim. I got the sense that she gave herself the room not to like him with the understanding that one day she would shift so that she would love him like everyone else did. Until that time she reserved the right to be indifferent or even not like his work and not feel bad about it since he is a master.
And you know what? I've felt that way about James, too! I've wanted to understand, but instead I just get drowsy or read the same sentence over and over again. I accept that I might not be advanced enough intellectually for his work. Maybe one day I, too, will be able to read The Portrait of A Lady or The Princess Cassimassima (because who wouldn't want to read a novel with that title--although today it would be called the Diva Cassimassima). I love Wharton, why can't I put on my miner's hat and take a tank of oxygen and descend into James?
That's also how I feel about the makeup for the shows so far. Where are the fucking lips? And you know I never curse on my blog. All those white lips must be accompanied by small noses and teeth whitners. And it's not really even a flattering look. And the concealer. I know there is no shortage of concealer in New York. I am scandalized by the exhaustion (or as I asked before, is it honesty) that is not being covered up. At least the silly purple patent lips at Jil Sander were nice and big--overdrawn, even. I applaud their effort to help the lips not appear like a purple gash. But I stopped wearing that color on my lips and nails in 1979, so you tell me. I just don't understand.
But I'm not doing the shows, I'm writing about them from the comfort of my home. I am doing a show for a mass retailer in a few days because I love the people backstage and the money will be good. I will be putting lips on every one of those girls, you can be sure. they might be big and red, but they will be there. I think I'll do a DVF look. What do you think?
The Commerce of Art and Exclusivity
kim | 05 February, 2006 07:27
I was so relieved to read this post by Almost Girl. I've been struggling with this whole FashionWeek Blogging thing because I have been in this business on the makeup end of things for a long time. I'm a person for whom it doesn't take much to push over the edge of feeling bad about myself, so in the beginning I was always feeling bad about myself for one thing or another that I didn't have or what I didn't look like. In a room filled with skinny models, stylists and editors all looking like Sarah Jessica Parker's Carrie, replete with the hottest jeans, your muffin tops throb and radiate. Trust me. And then I met designers. I read their books. I was offered to ghostwrite some of their literature. I sat in their parlors. And I worked in a few department stores, took their training seminars and was encouraged to sell as many of their products as possible. If you've ever been to a really successful seminar, where your adrenaline goes through the roof and your productivity goes up 1000% in the thin 5-8 hour in February, you know what the power of persuasion can do. Then I did makeup for the training videos of those seminars. Stylists and market editors fighting over what is the best combination to sell things, to make them more interesting. But in the end, it was all to sell product. Denim Jeans are made by designers for a purpose: perhaps they want a nice house in the Hamptons, high social status or they might want to send their kids to a New York City private school. Which is really, really expensive--trust me.
Fashion is an industry driven by sex, and exclusivity and is fed by an unwavering desire to embody those two attributes, let's be real. When Julie said the shows are like a big trade show, I breathed a sigh of relief. What's going on in Bryant Park is the theater of selling emotional crack. I struggle with being a part of that, that's why my philosophy is, "you're pretty already, you don't really need that much to be prettier." It's fine to be a part of it, it's so compelling because when everything looks right, everything seems right. Who do you think looks better: chubby Linsday Lohan, or puking, drunk, clenbuteral-abusing Linsday Lohan. Sadly, the latter. So it means something, of course. But just remember, when you're buying into all of it you are financing the social and educational lives of the owners of the company. Just like cars, just like sugar, just like cigarettes.
Death On the Runway--It's Called Lip Gloss, People
kim | 29 January, 2006 22:33
Makeup for the runway must offer the simplest, clearest bust most of all cohesive way to convey the designer's concept so that the main artist can show the other artists quickly and they can get through as many girls as they need to quickly. Oddly, this season has revealed a new function: how to make women look the most dead in their makeup while they are wearing beautiful garments.
Dior is out of control these days, I think Pat McGrath does it still, and she's the only one (with the exception of Stephane Marais) who could get away with such ugly theatrics. Actually, I think Pat McGrath is doing almost every show, doesn't she rule the runway now? To be clear, if and when I see Pat McGrath, I will fall to my knees and my hands will fall over my head to the ground. I worship this woman. Perhaps she's sort of like DeNiro and Pachino under the mis-management of that guy who directed the awful, "Heat" or Gwyneth and Jessica Lange in that awful mother in law movie. You get my point. Maybe it's not her fault, just bad direction.
Armani just wants you to see the clothes and so Pat--I assume it was Pat because she designed the makeup collection--which is brilliant and one of my favorites--made it all very beigey with dewey, perfect skin. There is no dewey without perfection; you can't have a wrinkle, a blemish or an imperfection on your skin if you're going to annoint it with a reflective substance (unless you're talking about that MAC Sheer Shimmer--but that's shimmer, not shine). Youth rules, again. And so does Pat.
Chanel. Chanel. He is killing his brides over there will pale faces and sheer lavender and hospital green shadow all around their eyes. The corpse bride. Mia Farrow in Rosemary's Baby in her first trimester? Carmen Kass looks simply embalmed. Have you ever seen those Dior ads where she's dipped in gold?
And Valentino. It's like the 80's Eurotrash PowerBitch who died from a cocaine overdose was exhumed but had not yet removed her makeup.
I mean, come on, people. Women are alive. They are spending money on your garments. Don't kill them. All it takes is a little lip gloss.
At least Lacroix gave us a Grecian goddess. Back to the '80's with the big eyebrows, but modern everywhere else. Don't over pluck, you guys. They don't grow back most of the time.
Elie Saab got a little Roccoco with the hair and simple with the makeup. They didn't have Amazing Concealer back then, either. But we have it now, so...everybody needs concealer. Don't let the illusion of perfection fool you. It doesn't exist past 12. Mkay?
At least Gaultier tried, with the tan faces and the gold liner on the inside and the liquid liner on the outside. No lips, though. They look like tan corspes or alcholics just back from St. Bart's, if they were starring in a stage version of Blade Runner there.
Let's please hope there's a little more blood in New York. You know there's plenty here.
Can You Tell Me Why...
kim | 20 January, 2006 10:59
I care so much about the Brangelina Baby, how mean girls always win and how Jennifer Anniston is probably a mess right now. Do you think it has to do with the fact that I am not able to engage in reading or writing a book right now because my committments are forcing my attentions elsewhere? Do you think it's because I'm more like Jennifer Anniston--self-effacing and prone to a crying jag than Angelina--anorexic, self-possessed and a vixen? Do you think it's because I'm a loser and I need to get a life?
Excuse Me, Ma'am? Post Office Edition
kim | 18 January, 2006 14:02
You are so pretty and clearly know it by your superior posture. Why do your eyebrows look like paisleys?
You are four feet tall and four feet wide. Why wear all white? And cover it with a clear plastic poncho? And dye your hair copper penny red but do nothing for your eyebrows or your moustache? I can see your bunions pushing through those Addias.
Can you shut the F up about the post office while we're standinng on line and everyone behind the counter is gossiping? Yes, they are lazy, you pointing it out for 17 minutes does not help. Plus, you need to do your roots. You can gossip about people after you do your job perfectly and you do your own roots.
kim | 17 January, 2006 13:02
I am. I really need everyone who can muster it up to send me soothing vibes. I'm having a bad day. Thank you.
kim | 17 January, 2006 08:32
Okay, I didn't watch the first part because we are still in the middle of sleep training but, holy blue eyeshadow Bat Man, what the hell were those L'Oreal ads. They did market research on those? And the mascara ad? I've never seen one without false lashes. These were crunched into the lashline and well curled, but still. And why does Melanie Griffith keep getting invited and why did she look so over it when Hillary Swank stepped on stage?
kim | 16 January, 2006 14:07
My comment spam is like herpes--I just can't get rid of it. I've got these jerks spewing my site every day. It's such a time-waster. But what I am curious about is:
1) Really, who uses Cialis? People actually do?
2) If your genetalia isn't working, do you think it's best to pump it up with chemicals? Really? I think it's a deeper problem.
3) Did they over-manufacture these drugs and sell them to enterprising but jerky losers on the internet?
4) Do these people think that spamming my BEAUTY website that men with ERECTILE DYSFUNCTION will sign up for their questionable pharmaceutical?
5) Who would purchase their erection medicine from a website anyway? Don't you need a perscription for that?
6) If you can't afford a doctor, then how can you afford to shell out big bucks for fake medicine?
7) Come on, you know it's not real medicine. It's probably a combination of cake sprinkles, rat poison and Crystal light. Perhaps some confectioner's sugar, too.
Please, please stop spamming my site. Thank you.
Can You Work?
kim | 14 January, 2006 09:30
It was 3:48 am. Yes, of course. I know the makeup artist who was in the car accident.?I used to work with her behind the counter?in a department store.?She had the name of an 80 year old lady and dow she has turned it into an ethnic last name which sounds very exotic. My memory is shot, and so I knew something wasn't right, but it just snapped in this morning. I'm all for makeovers. I'll keep your secret, Olive (name has been changed to protect the upwardly mobile).
I called for a car immediately and grabbed some pants on the floor. I didn't realize that they were stained until I got to work. My hair looked like a rusty, used?brillo pad. I brought my makeup just in case and I snagged some makeup that I promised someone who was actually, coincidentally, going to be on the show. Saves me a stamp, but totally random.
I get to the studio and I have to work with one of my least favorite co-workers. I always make a point of going in a different room because a) the person does not understand the concept of peace and quiet and b) that person is creepy. So I get a little bitchy. I do the makeup. I get the hugs. My throat is as dry as a nail file. I'm hurting. But I can't say no.
I'm happy to see the person I coincidentally see, we have a nice chat and that person introduces me to someone whose work Iadmire. It's funny working where I used to work all the time. This place was like my full time job and I didn't have enough distance from it to get the full lay of the land. But I do now.
I used to go to work in my sweatpants. I was not respectful at all. Now I like to show up for work with full respect in attitude, physicality and all. Wow, that was the worst sentence I ever wrote. YOU KNOW WHAT? THIS IS AN EMAIL, REALLY, NOT A BLOG ENTRY. Bear with me. But today it was not my choice to look like shit because I was told they were going on the air at 5:00. It feels really bad to look like crap amidst beatufiul people. I know most of them, so they don't seem to mind, but I would rather just be an adult with my crisp work ethic.
I can't wait to take a nap.
Fashion Don'ts That Make Me Crazy
kim | 11 January, 2006 21:40
The Manolo asks, what are the fashion "don'ts" that make me crazy? I will answer this slightly sideways, because I am slightly sideways. Let's say that the beauty industry says don't be without these items, it is boolsheet:
You probably don't need foundation. What a waste for so many women! Just use the right concealer under your eyes and around your nose. Blend well, voila!
Stop curling? your eyelashes if they are just going to look like check marks.
Stop putting eyeliner under your lashes-especially liquid liner!-and nothing on your top lashes. Just don't wear it, for cripe's sake.
Stop spending so much on skincare and get more sleep, eat better and exercize more. Your skin will improve.
Why the F are you wearing bronzer all over your face and your neck and arms are all white? Huh? Whitey?
You are not Beyonce, Gwyneth or J.Lo. It's okay to be you, you're pretty. Just love yourself and read a good book already.
kim | 03 January, 2006 22:04
This funeral is going to be like the remains of Caligula. All the boys and girls from Junior High School and High School--I dare you to find two spaces between people who had not coupled. It was a wild time. A time of pot seeds rolling down album covers, a time of parent-cabinet-stolen white russians, a time of snorting cocaine for the first time right before dance class in the downstairs girl's bathroom. Don't get me started on the make-out parties.You know who you are. Don't act all prissy with me.
I am keeping the kid in a cage until he is 23.
So what kind of makeup do you wear? You must look put together but not overdone. Effortlessly natural. Believe me, these people are not going to show up at my funeral, this is probably the last time I am going to see them. With any luck, anyway. This is her funeral. Every boy that worshiped at her altar will be there. They all better be there. I don't even want to go, to be honest with you. I'd rather just live in my normal, boring life and dispense with the past. I do every time I am invited. But funerals are for the living. I am going for her parents, for her sisters and for the friends who loved her dearly. And for her, for everything she was and did not know and everything she could have been. J.M., you are sadly, sadly missed.
The day I found out, I happened to have a playdate with the kid in my old neighborhood. I walked by my Junior High School and peered into the alley way where all of us used to meet to cut school or where we would all congregate and smoke cigarettes. It is a small passageway locked by a gated fence. I was holding the kid (I didn't take the stroller and he didn't want to walk) and he said "Open the gates! Open the gates!" and I thought of my friend and I looked up, and I made the request, "yes, please open the gates and let her in." I'm sure she's resting there now.
The Death of My Youth and Beauty II
kim | 02 January, 2006 09:12
I guess what I mean to say is that this girl was beautiful. It was inconceivable when you looked at her how beautiful and it gave her such power. This was when beauty meant something. When everbody was mostly ugly and hairy with crooked, yellow teeth. Before plastic surgery with which you can purchase the power of good looks, before trainers where average girls can turn themselves into knockouts, and before even highlights--sun in was the order of the day. She was a natural and seemed like the gods had blessed her, which they had. And now she is gone. I'm sure they make more of them, or you could make yourself into her if you paid enough, but she was the real thing, the Helen of my public junior high school.
The Death of My Youth and Beauty
kim | 01 January, 2006 20:26
This evening I got a phone call from an old friend who never calls me--I knew that someone had died. I knew who that someone was, too. She was the most beautiful, most sought after, most mysterious girl from Junior High School. She modeled. She hung out with older guys. She was fearless. She was not a virgin when I met her, I think, and I met her when we were 12. She overshadowed my most important male relationships: Carl Schoote liked her and I liked him. I wrote as much on the bathroom wall at the St. Mark's Theater, way before they tore it down and replaced it with a GAP. When you could not only smoke in there, but smoke pot in there, too and nobody would say anything. Never mind that you were 12. As well as my most complicated high school relationship, which wasn't a relationship at all but a string of nights, over the course of five years, of me following someone who loved to walk all over me. He was constantly comparing me to her, and I felt her perfect, blonde spectre looming over me at all times. I was not her and would never be her.
I heard a few years ago that she had a drug problem. You know, the drug problem. The one they write books and movies and songs about. Very romantic. I heard she had become skeletal. That across her beautiful, perfect body, there were now uneven practice tatoos that her boyfriend, an aspiring tatoo artist had scratched all over her. She was difficult in public and people gave up on her and stopped inviting her to come around and actually asked her to stop coming around.
We all had pretty rough childhoods. That's why, I think, we all ended up together. So why did I make it and she didn't, when she had so much more going for her than I had going for me? I am so sad tonight. She is the first one to go. I was nothing to her everything and I here I sit with my husband and my son and my computer, writing, living, breathing. It makes no sense at all. But I am grateful to be alive. And I pray that she is now in peace.
Are Jew Iranian?
kim | 25 December, 2005 10:59
Where I am vacationing, there is a special light that appears over my head, like a halo but more like a subtle neon sign. It's subtext is: I am not like you. Look at my big nose, divine my provenance. It has always said - "Ask Me About Being Jewish."
You're so exotic, I am sometimes told. Careful about going out at certain times, I was once told. Are you Iranian, I was point-blank asked last night. At a party.
I long for the time I can return to my motherland and blend in as a middle class nothing amidst all the curly heads, the nose jobs, the expensive bags, jeans and shoes and go back to being non-descript. People insult out here with compliments.
Did I Mention I Am On Vacation?
kim | 24 December, 2005 10:03
I am. It's dry and in the 70's-80's here. There is much salsa and cheese and chips. Not that much chocolate. I am getting fat slowly, sometimes quickly. It's sad. The kid does not want to sleep in his pack and play and so has been using me and Mike like the bumpers of a pinball machine, although at least he's not kicking me all night long, which is nice. He's getting along famously with his grandparents and my cold is drying up.
I have not seen one person here who knows how to do her makeup properly. They are either understated and wear very little (which looks fine) or tough-girl slutty, which is nice for a laugh. I wouldn't laugh in their faces, though. Guns are legal here. I stay inside, mostly. (feel free to say like Newt is Aliens)
I Am A Townie
kim | 20 December, 2005 22:59
A real, honest-to-goodness born-here New Yorker not born on
Fifth Avenue. I lived through the last transit strike. I peg
my memories only to one day, since I only retain small snapshots from
my life now. A fact not lost on me at my high school reunion which was
cobbled together by people who met on classmates.com since the headmasters
bankrupted and sunk our high school and all that was left were
memories. Other people's memories. So many people came up to me that
night and asked how I was and I completely did not remember them at
all. Because I am brain dead and it has its roots in the transit strike
of 1980 or that year, anyway--I will explain later. There were other guys who were kind of
humping on me or asking me how many boyfriends I had, so those guys I
mos def remember. I was a little slutty, but not with guys in
school. Don't shit in the same stairwell where you smoke hash and all.
So me and my friend decided to meet after she was banned from sleeping
over my house by her mother. We both don't remember why. She lived all the way uptown on the west
side and I lived (and we went to school) near the village. I met up
with her main squeeze and the boy I was in love with--Carl Schoote, you
know who you are. He would have nothing to do with me. Well, twice he
did and then never again. I don't know how I stood my heart beating out
of my chest walking next to him all the way uptown with him and the other one. We
picked up another guy on the way, and up we walked. Now, my friend said
59th Street and Central Park West. She found us wandering on Fifth
Avenue. It was 1980, people, there were no cell phones. People had to
use their instincts and their cunning.
We found a grassy patch and got high and then my friend and her main
squeeze made out while Carl Schoote ignored me and the guy we picked up
in the 30's tried to get his 12 year old groove on with me. In reality,
he was very good looking and hot, but insecure and a little nutty, so
one of the cool guys, but just a bit of a pariah. How many commas is
that? I'm really sick and I have to fly tomorrow, so you're going to
have to bear with me. Then he did something horrible: do you know what
Rush is? It's this inhalent that came in a small brown bottle and would
give you a rush. I was always to scared to try it, but I guess the guy
needed a little boost because I was really turning him down and somehow
he poured just a few drops on my head. It kind of spilled. He was
standing over me. We were on a rock. I was 12 and high, the details are
I freaked out. Was my hair going to turn purple, would there be a bald
spot? Was it going to spontaneously combust? Carl and the squeeze were
laughing at me, as usual. So mean. And I think my friend was comforting
me. This is what the coolest 7th graders in school did. Yes, we were
among the coolest. Public School.
Somehow we walked home and I felt soooo accomplished. I had walked that
great distance, met my friends, hung out smoked cigarettes and other
things and had a great time. When I was talking to my friend this
morning about it, I realized that I had so much energy and such little
direction. The only people there for me were my friends. And they were
only 12, too, so what did they know?
I always imagined that when I accepted my Academy Award (TM) that I
would tease Carl Schoote for not picking me, for all the long days I
spent pining for him, my broken heart mending and leaping at the chance, the hope that he would catch it, but he always looked at it fall on the floor and walked away like it was a paper airplane. I'm so over him now. If
he's out there, I wish him nothing but the best. I? hung around a rough
crowd, but I think it was so much rougher when we all went home. I know
it was for me that year, especially.
Please Don't Say It's So
kim | 14 December, 2005 20:49
My guys are sick. Last year the kid was sick from December to June, every two weeks. It would be fine, I would just feel bad for him, if he didn't drag me down with him. I am up every hour with him, soothing his cries, alarmed by his fever, cajoling children's Motrin down his gullet, refusing his pleas to play or sit in his high chair for a full meal at 3:00 in the morning and then take care of him all day. Every other week for six months, last year. Know what I'm saying?
I'm so overdue to have my hair colored, it's completely white in front. The hygienist screwed up my teeth (don't ask) and my feet look like I've been working in the fields. I need a spa day.
I'm back on the Oz Garcia eating plan, though, and I know I would feel like a million bucks if my throat weren't killing me...
Bad News For Musicians; Gloss
kim | 07 December, 2005 13:16
Overheard in the gym today: I hate albums. I had to spend, like $125 in albums that I only wanted one song on each. I hate buying albums unless it's Madonna. Then I'll skip over just one song, maybe. I like playlists. I hate albums.
Glitz gloss is nither glizty nor glossy once it's out of the packaging and on your mouth. Discuss.
Eyebrows and Petroleum
kim | 03 December, 2005 19:06
Last night I saw I heart Huckabees for the second time. Well, I saw the whole thing the first time--last night I pathetically fell asleep. Not only do I suffer from existential angst (I'm not being glib here, I really do - it's like having no skin alot of the time.), but I also do feel the same way about petroleum that Mark Wahlberg's character did; it's horrible. I am trying to use lip balms whose base are shea butter or Lanolin (like L'Occitaines and Dr. Haushka's - yum!). Although they are more expensive, I just think it's worth it personally, politically and cosmetically. I'm also going to move over to Decleor now which does not use petroleum. I'm also going to give Korres a try. I love Dr. Haushka (especially the Quince day cream in the fall and spring) but for winter I need something a little stronger. And I need an eye cream, too, so I'm hunting for that, too. I'm getting old and even though I look young, I'm getting this bassett hound thing that sort of sucks. Oh, well. You love me for my brain anyway, right?
Secondly, I saw a woman on the street today for whom I used to temp. She seemed like a nice girl, younger than I, but she wore all brown all the time (like everything on sale from the back of the store) and then she turned out to be the biggest psycho. She explained things in the briefest and least intelligible way and then would yell at me and get red in the face when I did the thing she asked me to do wrong. Sort of like my drunken stepfather. I had post traumatic flashbacks, anyway. It was so stressful working for her. The guy after me got hired and then drained the company for disability. I'm sure she's a nice person, just a bad explainer. The worst part, though were her eyebrows: two bushy catepillars that would laugh at me everyday: "Are you going to say something today? Look at me, all of my hairs are all over the place! There's nothing you can do about it! HA!" Well, today I saw her pregnant as can be and with perfectly tamed eyebrows. She must be having twins, she's huge. I gained I think over 50 lbs with my guy, so I know how brutal it is. But the thing is that her eyebrows are a little too small now, they were so huge before that someone must have had a reaction. Not that they're thin. They are a perfect shape, which is rare and good. Especially because I know what they could look like. Great eyebrows don't happen everyday, so that's nice. Here's hoping that she will be a better explainer and a more tolerant understander for that kid that's coming out. She looked jolly, so maybe she's changed. It was about 10 years ago. I know I have.
But my eyebrows are still the same.
Wonder Bread PSA
kim | 28 November, 2005 21:36
In doing research for my book (for which my submission is almost ready!) I found that Wonder Bread offers recipes for Beef Cups, Wonder Blintzes, Peach Pie and Wonder Turkey Stuffing. I shit you not. Most of them require butter, sugar, the other ingredient and the bread. Bon appetit!
kim | 26 November, 2005 12:12
I am good at a few things: cooking, makeup, writing, getting all the gifts for the entirety of my in-law family before Thanksgiving. Cleaning? Not so much. But there are so many other things.
A while ago I was working at a job with the second biggest bitch I had ever worked with in my entire career. She? never stopped making life difficult for others. Despite the fact that she was a mother, she tried to hijack someone's job while she had a bun in the oven. She never stopped complaining and she didn't let me do her makeup at first. I went to the studio and she made me sit there and not touch her while she called in her makeup artist.? I'm of the "do unto others" school of social interaction. But this was war, baby - TV. So, I was the most nonchalant, condescending, closed off person I could summon up and she ate me up like a big bowl of chocolate ice cream with a spoon. She luuuved me. Whatever, freak. But the one thing I did get to discover was some Too Faced eye shadow that I had previously never gotten to work with. It was smashingly beautiful and too my breath away. So, this year, when I was ordering presents from Sephora for the holidays (one of the things I am good at) (I always get my mother in law the most lavish gift - shouldn't every matriarch be treated like a Queen Bee?) I snuck in that special deal from Too Faced - the 3 eyeshadows for $25 but it's a $47 value. We are counting our pennies over here, I didn't hide it from my husband--I told him--but I felt bad. But it was a bargain for almost half the price and I never ended up getting that for my birthday, so. I feel a little sneaky. But since you let me confess to you I don't feel so bad anymore.
Yes I do.
Why Won't They Stop?
kim | 13 November, 2005 22:54
God in Heaven and the Earth Below, please stop them from advertising that Bobbi Brown lip stain. It is the ugliest ad I've ever seen for makeup and the product is great and Bobbi is an amazing artist as well as product innovator. Why, why do we have to look at that. I thought it was going to be over for fall, but - no, they've just added some shimmer to that girls' face and taken away her deep eyeliner under her eyes!
Here's Why I Haven't Written:
kim | 11 November, 2005 12:09
I have had no help with the kid in a week. I either get up at 3:30 am to write and work out or do it late into the evening. Sometimes both. I got something really great and I'm on deadline, I will tell you all about it when it happens. Plus, I'm working on the other thing. Oy. The tape I sent in to be a crack-up makeup artist - they aren't getting back to me. Oh, well. It was a sell out manuver anyway. Would I have taken it? Yes. At this point? Somebody, buy me. I'm so tired. I just need someone else to do everything for just a little while.
In beauty news, I found last winter's lip gloss in last winter's coat. It has retained it's berry-like scent which is nice but also a little scary. By Mark. And the tip has a spngey thing on it which kind of grosses me out: how many bacteria does it take to cross the blood/brain barrier. Yeesh. Also, have you heard of ADD coats? I am totally getting one this year. Please tell me where to find them in NYC. Thanks.
I Forgot the Best Part
kim | 06 November, 2005 21:17
The thing that really freaked me out was when we were talking about his hair, and by we I mean me being held hostage by his monologue, and he lifted up half of his hair and showed me that he had a rug on. The top was blonde and the underneath was gray, and then I mentally pictured him in all of his baldness for the rest of the time he was talking to me. And I'm not allowed to leave until 9. :15. help.
He has not taken in any air since 6:30. I can barely get a word in edgewise. He has chewed off my ear whole and spit out the lobe in a bloody mess on the floor.
Please, Please Go To Therapy
kim | 06 November, 2005 20:47
I have been up since 5:30 this morning. I did a wedding at 7:30. I am working until 9:15 tonight and doing a quick job before Mike goes to work tomorrow morning. I could not do this one job I really wanted to do tmorrow dunring thday because I could not get the childcare. I missed a great kid's party today where the kid would have had so much fun.
I am currently being held hostage by a hairdresser who is telling me all of his problems. About his family. They are really bad, but I don't care. First, I don't care because he's just blowing off steam. Second, I don't care because he has no self knowledge. Third, I don't care because I am trying to edit my redundant, piece of shit novel that I want to hide my head in the sand about.
Earlier in this 9 hour and 15 minute shift the camera person invited me back to her lair to talk about something. We got onto the topic of spooky spirits. I was in the back of the house with a crazy person. I feel like my world is turing and twisting around me, like the crazy people want to eat my jelly brains for craft services. Oh, please, just go to therapy and leave me alone.
Always a Goblin, Never a Ghoul
kim | 31 October, 2005 21:12
OMG, tonight I had to do someone famous for a famous person's party as Liza, before she was with a Z or with some E, but with her first gay husband Peter Allen. Poor slobs, the both of them. But I missed an important party for the kid because my client arrived 50 minutes late. This woman ruined my son's Halloween! My friend arranged the date - and she played with the kid during his witching hour (excuse the pun) as I dodged a million cell phone calls of the client's and a few tugs on my pant leg from the kid; I created just the right shape and slope of Liza's eyeliner (not easy on someone with tiny, close-set, in-set eyes), applied eyelashes on the uppers and lowers and did the best I could. I couldn't tell by the time I was done if she looked like Liza or if someone would say behind her back, "who's she supposed to be?" I was too close to it, it was hard to tell. But I think with Peter Allen on her arm, he'll be the other part of the costume and he'll make it work. Or not. I'm hoping that Liza would actually be at the party and then they could take pictures and show me, in fact, how good or bad I actually am.
A few years ago I did this guy as this wild blue witch with like silver shimmer and I heard that Mario Testino was all over this guy with his camera because he thought he looked great.
I'm always one or two people away from the really famous people. Always in the other room, listening in. Plus, I have a Nutrageous headache from eating Halloween Candy all fricking night because I didn't even have time to eat with all the hub bub. I feel toxic.
This is My Blog, So...
kim | 29 October, 2005 23:07
I can say that I think Tom Ford is a over-prvileged brat that gets too much sex and that the world that he created for the rest of us to live in - that we were stupid enough to buy in to - and he is now scorning is really pissing me off. How can he say in Vogue that people who have money should have perfect teeth (and how is that supposed to make people with not that much money or no money feel? Let off the hook from being perfectly fashionable due to poverty? Have you seen the new Pleasures ad with Gwyneth? She had her teeth done by Lowenberg and Litchuy - they do not look like they do in the ad, why would they mess them up like that? And plus, they should coordinate all of their pr efforts, the Lauder people) and in W that people are too unnatural. That he likes plastic surgery but we've forgotton what it looks like to be a human being. In the meanwhile showing off his completely hot body that I'm sure he works for, although he did claim that his hairless ass was real. How are you a model and an arbiter of what mere mortals should look like? I will tell you what Ruth LaFerla was so so so kind enough not quote me in her article when I said that people will always follow the meanest person in the room. I should have added, and the hottest. Youth Dew Amber Nude sounds amazing, I want to slather myself in it, but don't forget that he's using the oldest trick in the book to lure you in and then shaming you for it.
I Wuz Robbed
kim | 27 October, 2005 14:44
Okay, not only did somebody steal the name of my book, flip it around, partner with a makeup magazine to promote it and didn't even invite me to the party, now a very fancy department store has stolen the concept of my Spotlight interview (I did not invent the Q & A but I did put it in a certain context and ask certain questions that are almost copied verbatim). Where's my cut, yo?
Just you wait, you f-er's, when my novel is done, then I'm going to do my lipgloss line and I will only sell through my website and QVC. That will teach you.
Plus, someone stole my camera. I have no camera. I can barely breathe.
It's Never Too Late
kim | 26 October, 2005 23:43
Tonight I went to see a friend of mine, from my Bradley (natural childbirthing) Class, sing a little cabaret. She dedicated it to her mother, who is suffering from Alzheimer's disease. My friend has been taking care of her from afar, working some jobs, raising her son. She and her husband were both actors, trying to be actors, but I guess it never materialized for them. I know my friend once had an agent for her screenplays and that she is a great photographer. She's just all around talented but never really was able to focus on her art.
So this was called, Songs My Mother Sang, about her mother who had a beautiful voice but just sang in the kitchen to her kids. I guess she was just stuck and she didn't know how to unstick and now that she has Alzheimer's, it's too late. Every song was more poignant than the next. By the end, I was sobbing, but muffling my sobs. If I ever tell you that waterproof mascara at a wedding is a waste: don't listen to me. I have never been so moved to action, to finish my novel, to work on the showcase with another friend, to be the most fulfilled person I can be. Because if I can't live out my dreams, how will my kid be able to live out his dreams? And if I can't live out my dreams, what is going to happen to me? I mean, here we are living in America, is what I mean. I know I always bring up the refugee camp in Darfur and what's happening all over the world, because it is and sometimes I think we need to not take ourselves so seriously and at the same time recognize all the opportunity and good fortune we are surrounded by.
My birthday is on Saturday. It's not a birthday I am particularly looking forward to. It's a big one, not the big one, but yuck. Sometimes I feel too old to do anything. Which is me not practicing what I preach. Oh, my gosh. If you could have seen how beautiful my friend was. She is four years older than I and she could not have been more lovely, more beautiful, more measured. There is no way that a young person could have brought the gravitas, the sensuality and the voice needed to tell this very personal story of hers.
So now I want you to get up, get a pint of ice cream (no? Just me? I don't mind bingeing alone, don't worry) and pick up the one thing you always wanted to do. It's not too late now, but it might be one day. And you don't want your kid putting a bunch of songs together in a dark bar with a cover and a two drink minimum about how you lost the opportunities of your life. Do you?
The Story of the Mean Printing and Distributing Man
kim | 26 October, 2005 14:28
Once upon a time there was a very tired makeup artist who published a, um, parchment to help women not spend so much money on beautifiers. The man who printed and distributed her parchment around the kingdom was rude, never paid her on time and someone in the little hut in which they worked insulted the title. The parchment did reasonably well despite the main seller of the parchment in fact being the seat of evil - the factory which would lure townsfolk in and actually feed them to the town's dragon - the SAXon dragon; and tried to halt the sale of the book by losing the stock, throwing them in elevators or putting them on couters with no signs so they looked like very pretty brochures. Then the man who printed and distributed the parchment really, really hated paying the makeup artist and made every effort to make her feel like a total asshole every time she tried to get some money she was owed. She often considered if he were in cohoots with the SAXon dragon, but realized the world was just an evil place. The tired makeup artist and the man parted ways...until she found that not only was he printing and distributing another parchment by a perky English Major but that he had created parties with the name of her original parchment flipped around. So that he was not exactly stealing, but like all her dealings with him, were slimy, not quite on the up and up and grossed her out. And then she wrote about it in her blog.
Face Painting and Ethics
kim | 25 October, 2005 14:17
I swear this happened to me Sunday:? I volunteer every year for my Temple
to do face painting for underprivileged children. They called me up once. They
said, we heard you were a face painter. I said sure. They've been calling me up ever since. I like that they call me a face painter. Because that's what I sort of am.
So Sunday I went to this amazing shelter for homless families (family meaning any
child and any adult combination who constitute one unit) and they help them get on their
feet. These kids were so cute and sweet and delicious. One brother/sister team
helped me out by asking for a spider web and then teaching me how to do it (I
used eyeliner) and then I did it on every other boy in the whole place.
Spiderman, you know. The little girl had a rotting front tooth, though. In her
baby teeth, so I was dying inside. She wiggled her front bottom tooth and I could only pray that the rotting top one would come out and then they would start fresh.
I was deluged all morning by kids and their requests for spider webs and the occasional star, moon and heart; and then this GORGEOUS 15 year-old boy sat in front of
me. Chico. Light skinned black kid with gray-green eyes. All these kids were
between 3-10 and there were a few 12's and 13's, but he was the oldest. And to
make a long story short, he requested that I do his face in a full gang design
with his tag. And shit. All the kids around him were wide-eyed and going, oh
mah gawd! and no you di-ent! So that's how it all came up. Then I had a debate
with him: no it isn't, yes it is, no it isn't yes it is. I didn't want him to
get in trouble. I wanted to believe him that it wasn't. I couldn't ignore the
other kids. I didn't know what to do. I was stalling. My heart was beating
fast. Then, my rabbi came along. I told Chico that she was my spiritual advisor,
and would he mind if I brought it up with her. After hearing out the facts, she
asked if he would be willing to make a compromise: the face colors plus his
name, but instead of his tag, I could put a peace sign. He easily agreed and we
finished. I told him there was help, he didn't have to be in a gang. He said he
wasn't in one. I asked him if he was looking at colleges. Yeah, whichever ones
my moms says. He was a total manipulator. I am worried about him.
I am worried about all of them: the autistic boy whose mother will not let him out because she's afraid he will get hurt (ahem, it's called going outside with him), the six year-old girl with
the black front tooth who knows she has to say she is five or else she won't qualify for services, the 10 year old girl who won't put down her three year-
old sister who is smaller than my 21 month old son. I wanted to hold them all, keep
them safe, save them. Tell them it's not their fault. They were lovely, happy
and resilient, though. Just kids. I had the few hangers on that always hover
around the table, want more sparkles, shooting stars, tatoos - but mostly attention. I came with
face paint, but I gave them everything I had. And then, three hours later I
left. I feel like I did nothing. That it won't help. So they were spiderman for
a day. Big whoop. Who knows? Maybe spreading some paint around might help.
If Dreams Were Wishes
kim | 21 October, 2005 12:47
HIII!!! I'ts Fakey Gotyoubytheballs! How are you? Sorry I didn't return your many emails and phone calls! But listen: I have this D-List client that I need makeup for at a complete discount. Yes, less money and then it will take you five months to get paid. The call time is :X at location :Y. Can't wait to see you!!!! Thanks!
kim | 19 October, 2005 22:01
I believe in our great country. I love it here. I am completely patriotic - I support our troops, but I don't think they should have gone where they did. I cry during the fireworks on July 4th. I am so grateful I was born in the 20th century (although my birthday is coming up and it feels like the 19th century) as a woman in America. I consider myself one of the luckiest people on earth. But do you think that people are perhaps not honoring the system? That in a free market society, perhaps greed takes over? Then, when the Unions justifiably come in, then the corruption virus finds its way in and destroys what was first pure?
These are the things that keep me up at night. I try to live in the world as a person with integrity and honesty. But when the system is faulty and benefitting some people that are perhaps not deserving of it, how do you stay connected to the system? I feel a little out of sorts today. I had to take a personal stand on what I feel is corrupt, but that did not make me a better citizen, neccessarily. I am wracked with guilt.
Drugs Are Bad
kim | 17 October, 2005 14:06
Hmmm...how do I say this. There was once a boy who I knew in childhood, maybe at around 9 we started knowing each other. His mother was really out there, like a hippie, but more...kooky. Me and my divorced mom mostly saw him and his divorced mom because we lived near each other. My father had long since skipped town and his lived in a suburb with a new, younger, prettier, less kooky wife. Me and the boy, because we lived close together, spent alot of time together. His kooky mom made the most delicious, irregular ice cream candy cakes for my birthday which I see now was a beautiful gesture on her part. He was a really good friend. One of the best.
Fast forward to a little older and there was some experimental close-mouthed kissing with Gilda Radner, Chevy Chase and Jon Belushi doing their bits on the original Saturday Night Live. The summer after he came home from camp, there was the addition of the tongue, that being the first real time that had ever happened for me. As time marched on, there were more activities added with the addition of more tongue in beds or on the floors of basements, really, it was such a heady time. I would be more specific about it maybe in a short story, but suffice it to say - it was fun. Then we were older teenagers, out of touch for a long time. Somehow, back in touch, I guess we wanted to stay in better touch, and a high-stakes proposition was...propositioned. Let's just say it was not very successful until he smoked a bunch of pot and by then I had had enough. It was a disastrous experience only made worse by him leaving me at a suburban train station at about 1 am on a subsequent date when I shlepped up to see him in the Battle of the Bands, of which his band was, like, 32nd in a lineup of 50 or some stupid bullshit like that.
That was the end of that.
Until today when he picked me up in his taxi. No shit. I didn't say anything. I wanted to call my friend who made out with his friend a lifetime ago and shout it out, but I didn't know if I wanted him to see me. He looked bad. Long hair, greasy, tired and, well, he coughed alot. Which leads me to believe that he's a huge pothead now. For a moment I felt responsible. Did I emasculate him to the point of turning him to drugs? No, his mother was totally Oedipal with him and she even told me once that she didn't mind feeling that way. There is no way that I could compete with that damage. But what to do? Nothing. Just steal peeks out of the corner of my eye at my messy past, have compassion for it, but move on. I gave him a slightly big tip. I felt bad for him but maybe I shouldn't. He looked like a zonked out kooky person. I miss the little boy, but his momma can have him now.
kim | 12 October, 2005 07:04
Greetings from my insane mind. I have been up since 2:00 this morning, preparing for a semi-unsolicited audition tape for a show where I would shill for any number of different cosmetics manufacturers. But I hope I get the job. I lost my morals at the door of the kid's preschool tour. And you people are not hiring me, so I need to make some cash.
Notes From A Cab To Work at 3:45 am
kim | 09 October, 2005 05:45
Hussein Mohammed, my trusty cab?driver,?is on the phone.?Who else could be awake right now?
The taxi smells always like a bar. I step in gingerly hoping not to put my foot in puke.
This is a first: the buckle of the seatbelt is wet - did the drunk person practice safety in his blackout? Obviously there was no heavy making out in the cab between ?the previous passengers. Not that I know anything about that sort of thing.
MOTHERF***ER!!! Exclaims a blonde, seven foot tall drunken?college student?with crew cut and a tall boy in his hand?standing on a corner. He is waiting for his other tall friend who, because of his modesty, no doubt, relieved himself between two cars just slightly yonder.
Oh, the street is closed, we have to go around totally out of our way. Fine. I leave just enough time to get there in a straight shot, I didn't count on traffic problems before 4:00 am on Sunday.
A block away from work, a tall black homeless?man with?a scrubby graying beard and a green?cardigan hanging from his skeletal frame?shuffles by my cab against the red light?as if in a daze with his one hand in a half open prayer, like Christ.
The sun has not yet risen.
That Reminds Me...
kim | 06 October, 2005 22:47
The other day, and by that I mean somewhere between yesterday and two years ago on the "don't blog about work" time continuum, I was powdering a famous writer and we were talking about the United States' policy on Israel. The writer called it "Judaist." And I almost said to published (head writer of fabulous publication and author of at least two novels) writer: what the frick are you talking about, you dumb-ass? That's not even a word you college drop out! And then I said, "Um, Zionist?" and writer said, "yeah." and I almost said, "Why don't you just call me kyke to my face?" and instead I said, "Oh, my goodness, I think you have to go on air now! Better hurry along, cutie! Have a great show!"
Or something like that.
kim | 30 September, 2005 17:40
Yesterday I touched up Linda Blair's hair and makeup. There are few people nicer than she. It was one of my greatest professional experiences to date. An illusionist made a stupid comment about doing an act togther where he would spin his head around with her. After he was done, I whispered to? her, "Wow! I bet that's the first time you ever heard that!" She laughed. I feel like someone should protect her. She's tiny.
Fat and Old
kim | 30 September, 2005 11:15
My head is still reeling from the job I had last night. It was spectacular and I will explain it to you once I understand it, but it was a little complicated. Herewith I will share some written images with you from the evening's festivities:
Me, sitting next to the fire eater from the Coney Island Side show talking to her about her tatoos on her body and the complicated maze of ink on her face. After talking to her and seeing how sweet and gentle she was, realizing that her 20 foot albino Python hanging off of her body was not that different from the kid who likes to eat alot and get carried everywhere he goes.
Getting eyeballed by a celebrity reality star while he was standing next to his standard-issue beautiful girlfriend.
Me and the stilt man recognizing each other, but we couldn't figure out from where. He also told me I was beautiful. Oh, stilt man, I never knew you cared! It proves my life is a circus.
The end of the evening was a blow-out with a band I used to listen to in seventh grade, the year I was twelve. This band provided the soundtrack to my afternoons of cutting class, hanging out in various apartments throughout Styuvesant Town and Peter Cooper while we smoked with swollen lips from devouring the mouths of boys; ate M'nM's and washed them down with beer easily bought from bodegas. Every time I hear this one song, one boy from these days re-assmbles himself in front of me. His pillow lips are red and blowing smoke rings and then spouting racist remarks. He knocks back his head to clear his eyes temporarily of the swoop of his dark, shiny long fringe to glower at me. He was so mean to me and I pined for him more than anyone. I heard the song last night and I never thought, while I was sitting in a stairwell in 1979, that I would be working at an event with this band a lifetime later.
I could not look - the lead singer, who was the icon of beauty of her time - was fat and wearing the most unflattering dress that I have, perhaps, ever seen in my life. Like, not even good for a skinny gal. It did nothing to camoflauge her thick middle and did nothing to dignify her age. She looked like a bad Vegas act. Her hair was mousy brown, not what you'd expect from her. This woman is a great beauty and was not living in that reality. The band, what was left of them were gray, wearing gray-ish black (they looked like the production crew and technical support staff on the floor) and were now flanked by cuter, thinner, younger musicians.
I asked a companion, can I say something so mean? At her consent I said, "they old."
And they were, but so am I. But the music lives on, on a time continuum that will keep us all young, all twelve, all passionate about kissing and mean boys. We are all grown up now. I may have lost my youth and my beauty. But you have nothing to compare it to - I'm not doing it on stage. All I have to say about that is, it's lucky for you.
kim | 26 September, 2005 08:54
Ohmygosh, I keep deleting - BY ACCIDENT! - comments by a cool chick named Mindy, because of the way my comments section is laid out and how my comments section is constantly slammed with comments. Like my website has a note taped on its ass that says "SPAM ME."
Paris Hilton Behind The Scenes
kim | 21 September, 2005 14:04
I just got this junk email. Paris Hilton Behind the Scenes? Does that mean her cervix?
See? I'm hostile.
Don't You Look at Me You Fricking Frick
kim | 21 September, 2005 13:58
I'm a little out of practice with the production co-ordinator relationship. You have to be friendly. But not too friendly. You have to be cool. But not too cool. I'm always getting it wrong. I'm always slightly too friendly and I always say the wrong thing in the spirit of being friendly.
?I may be hostile, but I'm not cool and bitchy. I have to work on this whole thing.
It does make me want to bury my head in the sand, though. But the sand would get all over my lip gloss. There's nowhere to hide.
kim | 21 September, 2005 13:57
Or so a reliable source says. It's true. I'm hostile. I try to use it for comic effect, but it's just a little residue from the past. I will try harder. Sorry if I hurt your feelings.
kim | 19 September, 2005 22:59
I feel so badly for Kate Moss. Nobody should be publicly humiliated that way. Truly. I hope she keeps her contracts and I hope she gets help for the sake of her two year old daughter.
But, if we take this as some sort of a lesson...Kate Moss is one of the most beautiful models out there who is one of the skinniest. Get it? It's really unrealistic, people, the whole thing. So stop feeling bad about yourselves. And how she came back from rehab all plump like that? It's all a fantasy. And how that tape showed that she snorted 5 lines of cocaine in 40 minutes? Oh, wait. That's nothing. I thought they said she was a drug addict, not a recreational user.
SHOCKER!!! ANNA WINTOUR HATES FAT PEOPLE!!!
kim | 19 September, 2005 13:05
And now fat people are mad. Was this a surprise? Do they avoid Vogue, or do they not see it. There is no "Women's" Vogue. There are no fat people in Vogue. The fatness of Andre Leon Talley should be seen as a sign of the ultimate prestige - that he was so powerful AND fat in the fashion industry. What fat people should really be mad about and putting their energies towards is that women and children are dying in Iraq, that innocent women are being raped on the way to get water in Darfur and that the polar ice cap has melted beyond repair and we are now in an irrevocable global warming situation. There's something to soothe yourself with cookies over. And pass them over here, while you're at it.
Spring '06 Beauty - The Corpse
kim | 17 September, 2005 02:43
I read an article last night that said the polar ice caps are melted beyond control. Our planet is going down, baby, and we did it to her.
Was that the inspiration for the makeup for the Spring '06 shows? Or was it the industry's way of taking a firm look at its own anorexia? Who can really know unless you were backstage. I, happily, was not.
The girls looked dead:
White eyeshadow with no liner and barely there or clumpy, separated eyelashes. The occasional whimsical yellow and green ditty tapped out with the heaviest, most trailer-ish hand.
Sometimes, barely any concealer. Everyone needs concealer. Especially people who don't eat that much. They're tired!
Blush was bronzer carving out the sides of the face, making it more gaunt and any blush was really lighting highlighter on the face blotting it out more and making the girls look more sickly.
The lips: a rare, artificial candy pink devoid of any fun - purely artificial. The occasional berry stain or gloss improbably lacking any lusciousness. But mostly neutral white-pink lips. Whether highly glossed or completely matte, these lips were decidedly not letting any hint of nourishment past them and indicated a long starvation. Matched against teeth that were not bleached beyond a Simpson/Spears neon white shade, one better continue keeping that pretty little mouth closed.
In a word? Corpse-like. Yich.
The makeup artists who created these looks are my heros, but this was seriously heinous. I'm going to have to do alot of convincing to my private clients next spring that they do not need to look dead. Hopefully the companies will come up with some things that are more wearable. Because you know that some people are going to walk around with that white lipstick and look like crap. Here's hoping they give me a call before they do.
Art + Commerce = Allure Backstage Special
kim | 12 September, 2005 10:14
I could not believe my good fortune when, on Saturday, I happened upon a most amazing television special hosted by Allure Magazine on the top 8 (?) trends for fall. The greatest part about it was watching all the famous makeup artists at work: Pat McGrath, Dick Page, James Kailardos, Tom Pecheux - I love them, I lick them, I love them! The show was shot for the current fall season, so, a million years ago. Oh, it was so great to watch those artists work. Some of the suggestions were ridiculous to apply to regular women, i.e., they said that nude lips were their favorite over at Allure (I thought of the two moms I had done that morning as well as the bride I was about to do and I thought how awful they would look with bare, glossy lips) and Tom Pecheux - the brilliant genius! - suggested putting foundation on lips, then powdering them, then applying gloss (I spied the MAC Gloss, but not the glass, the Gloss) over top. Can you imagine if you are just a working mom or a real estate agent or a teacher and you walk to work and there you are with your big mascara and eyeliner and no lips? And you have a nose that's not like a button? And no bronzer anywhere to mute the larger parts of your face like your nose, for instance, which might not be the size of a small grape? What I'm talking about here, people, is that techniques from the runway do not always translate to the reality of your life. Fine, everyone - I hope, knows that.
But then, the last 10 minutes of the special were devoted to Collier Strong's interpretation of the 8 (?) trends. He's L'Oreal's makeup artist and every product was from L'Oreal and it was right after the L'Oreal ad. Now, he's just an artist who landed a plum gig and everything he was promoting was probably something that he would have otherwise promoted (he also showed the little trick of using eyeliner as eyeshadow, which works brilliantly) but, still. How can you know?
This is my essential internal struggle - how to help you, to be honest, to get a program that works for you individually without being beholden to any big, corporate sales pitch. Because I'm buying just a little of what they're selling. But not $8 Billion dollars worth.
A Souvenir For You
kim | 01 September, 2005 13:27
Because we don't blog about work or else we get fired - I will tell you about a job I had that, on the time continuum, is closer to now than not, but where exactly you'll never know. Unless, of course, you were working with me. In that case, Hello! Wasn't that an easy two days? With so many double stuff Oreos? I, myself, now am personally a double stuff after eating all of those.
I do light hair but some clients expect you to do makeup cut and style hair but usually you can get by with a blowdryer, a bunch of velcro rollers, a few curling irons and product. For jobs and for me I love the John Frieda Blonde hairspray - and, if you must know, I use the Brunette line for shampoo and conditioner personally - just as an example. I don't go in for all that Phyto stuff. It's gorgeous, but I'm a makeup artist - I'd rather spend my money on foundation and moisturizer. And brushes. And makeup. Because I'm a makeup artist. And in fairness, I have to say that I am using some stuff that Claudia Pedala lent me for a job and I have not yet returned because I haven't been responsible, but that's going back to her studio this weekend. Sorry, Claudia.
So I get to this job and they sit an older woman in front of me and I'm supposed to give her something that looks like she's just been in the beauty parlor. Or, I should say, she should look like a regular older woman. Their are some women, like my mother, who have such thick, gray hair that it laughs at the brush in your hand as you approach her head. And then there's the type of gray hair that's simply limp, which was the case of this head of hair that they had sat in front of me. The actress had, earlier in the week, gotten her hair done, so it was partially teased and set. I had only about 20-30 minutes and a curling iron and a hairdryer. Makeup was easy - zup-zup - but the hair! I went round each sort of flattened curl, the front of which was curled under- so, like, she had this white roll going across her forehead. Uch, I can't even describe it. Trying to be cool, I asked the director if that's what she was after. She said yeah, sure, it was fine. When I was done, after I did the other talent, the actors went on the set. A white set. White hair against a white background. She was a pretty woman, but it looked weird, her head floating around like that. So I tightened up the curls so you could see her hair more articulated against the background. Like a poodle perm. But then I had to spray each curl. And her hair had been previously teased so I was curling teased sections of hair and then spraying them. I kept telling the actress that I would gladly take it out when we were done. To please not tell her hairdresser (who I think won an Emmy or something) to not hate me and certainly not to divulge my name. Also, I told the lighting guys they needed a flag. They didn't hear me but put up a flag anyway. Showbiz, people, it's in my bones. I have a knowing, as my mother would say.
Second day: the dreaded head returns. I told the talent she should sleep on a wood block like a Geisha, sort of joking. But of course it was worse the next day. There was one little piece by her ear that kept wilting. I kept the curling iron on set for touch-ups, and despite the sign that warned: CAUTION: HOT CURLING IRON, because it was too close to the double stuff Oreos, a bit of plastic got on the iron as one of the higher-ups was comforting herself with food. I say that as a person who ate a whole package of Vanilla Sugar Wafers in one day. So it got on the iron. But I did not understand until I touched up her hair and the plastic got stuck in her hair and the hot curling iron stuck to her hair and I had to pull hard the iron from the curl of hair. I thought I was going to yank out, on set, in front of the whole crew and the production staff, one perfect white curl that I could perhaps put a whole through and stick on a necklace. You know, like a souvenir.
This Morning - A Call Sheet, plus a Little Torah Portion, Completely out of Calendar Context.
kim | 25 August, 2005 20:23
10:30 am, today - I know I said your call time was 12:00, but can you come here now? Thanks.
My favorite Torah study teacher was a guy who was a purist. Not Orthodox, although he studied with them as well as the Chassidim, but pure to the word, which appealed to the word-lover in me. He hated Purim. Why? Because there was a section at the bottom of the text that said the angels were rejoicing at the defeat of the enemies of the Jews. Now, these enemies had been slaughtered because they were going to slaughter the Jews. Fine. But if we are all God's creations, he argued, then how could the angels rejoice at their brutal death? And then how could we base the whole celebration on that giddy joy? Well, the take away point is this: there is someone who not only betrayed me, but she's having fun twisting the knife in. She's gleefully being very nasty to me in a roundabout way. But she's also having a hard time. It is clear to me that she is very judgemental toward herself and I am just a stand-in for her, a blank screen upon which she can project her self-hatred. Often, breaking off a relationship is the result of not wanting to let go of your emotional props and crutches and so you blame the other person for what's pissing you off. I am so happy for her humiliations and her defeats. But then I think, when we were friends, I was not happy for them, I would often soothe her through them (albeit often without thanks or acknowledgement). And if I apply the concept of not rejoicing at the defeat of my enemies, the world cannot be whole if hatred is in my heart because we all have a personal responsibility to treat everyone like God's glorious creations. So I will keep working on this one, although I'm very flawed. Oh, well. That's why they have religion in the first place - because we humans can be really messed up.
Bah Humbug. For Fall.
kim | 22 August, 2005 21:32
This is going to sound harsh, but I'm telling you because I want to help. All those magazines you are buying for fall, all that desire pent up in you for this depreciating trinket or that disposable garment - especially if you have seen it on a celebrity - is the brainchild of some corporation that wants you to spend money on their product so they can get more rich. That's why I designed this website, so I could save you a little money and so you would not have to be unwittingly brainwashed into buying crap you don't need. Because you will never look like Sarah Jessica Parker unless you work out at least 2 hours a day. And do you have time for that?
Conversely, I'm so bummed out that the fall rags did not float my boat. It's not that everything in there is not completely beautiful, it's just that it all seems so irrelevant. I mean, who's going to wear their eyeshadow like that? We have to have a guidepost, but still. If you did wear light blue or white eyeshadow walking down the street on a crisp fall morning I would feel very, very bad for you. Even that bronzey look. Irrelevant. Just stick with your darkish brown eyeshadow and your neutral lipstick or add in some red for the fall. What do they expect? You're not Tom Pecheux. Really.
That is all.
kim | 17 August, 2005 11:44
My some time morning gig has me often working along side another makeup artist whom I adore. We're not friends, per se, we're professionally friendly and trustworthy, I think, for each other. I suggested her for a job once that ended up being great for her and now she suggests me. Sometimes, you end up with good connections in this business. The thing about this woman is that she's styled to the hilt: her nails are always fake and done, her hair is always blown out, different color contact lenses, perfect clothes and really high heels (really early in the morning - I just can't!) and the teeth: bleached. I have mentioned before that I once had my teeth bleached and although they looked good, since I have cracks in my teeth I was in excruciating but random pain for 24 hours. Like the girl from Audition was doing phantom root canals on me with long, hot needles. I swore I'd never drink coffee again and then there was a child born who required me not sleeping for more than two hours for six months. And then after that I got? to sleep at four hour stretches. I take mine decaffeinated with soy and sucanat, but I have a cup every morning. Mmm, I would say it's more like a bowl, but I need it. And while my teeth are getting darker, they're not horrible. Still passable in the outside world.
But then I go to work and there are the on air people with the white teeth, the makeup artists with the white teeth and the hairstylists with the white teeth. I go in, do my makeup, get set up and keep flashing my teeth at myself. Fine, I say. To myself. Then I work with them and I secretly flash myself in the mirror in contrast to them. It's not a secret - I look like an insecure retard which is not a great thing for a makeup artist to look like, and then I hate myself for the rest of the day.
I have used those Go Smile things and they are really good. If I didn't have so many restorations I would do Crest White Strips, but I gave mine away to a friend who couldn't afford the $600 whitening bill at the dentist. Not covered by insurance.
Like most everything in my life, whitening would be more complicated than the average foam-'em-up-and-ratchet-open-their-mouth-and-stick-a-laser-light-in-there customer should I decide to do that conformist bullshit thing that looks so amazing again.
Perfectly Beautiful (please say in a robot voice)
kim | 14 August, 2005 23:55
Today I worked with one of my all-time favorite private clients. Let me say that this is one of my favorite activities: taking women shopping for makeup. It's so much fun. But rest-assured, I like to keep it light. I'm frugal, I won't break your bank. Much to my great embarrassment, the store we went to did not have what we were looking for (Amazing Concealer is sold only at Sephora Times Square and Sephora SoHo, but they should be selling it in the street in kiosks or in Starbucks because it's so amazing. And Clarins is not in every Sephora, either, if you can believe it.) so we went to my old place of employ. I will not name it here, but I swore that I would never take a client there again because of how hard they fricked me over in every way: from the beginning of my job, to my book, to my maternity. They are so glad I didn't sue them. Tru' dat. But it really is a fabulous place to shop - if you have me in tow to run interference against the beauty robots.
The sales staff is no longer human. They check their brains at the employee door so they can install a profit-motivating chip in there and it renders them all glassy-eyed and completely out of synch with the every day rythym of human beings and their boundaries. You have to return it at the end of your tenure along with your double-discount credit card (which they revoked from me the nano-second I stepped out of the store). They seem to be looking at you, but really they are a million miles away. Everyone is polite and well dressed and their breath is great and they talk like robots rattling off lists of scientific-sounding ingredients and their benefits. Oh, the benefits! They never stop, even when you say no, they continue to offer you products and their benefits and how it will benefit you and isn't my lip gloss glossy? I am hypnotizing you with it! You see, I'm immune. You are not. That's why they have the highest grossing makeup floor in the United States. They wear you down, because they are skilled beauty profesionals. Like Ninjas, but more like robots.
On a product related note: I am scared of Hylexine. Can you tell me why I would put something near my eye that changed the color of my skin? Please, if you do, tell me why you like it. I just as soon use Amazing Concealer. And Clarins Beauty Flash Balm. You know?
Anyway, I had a great time with my client, she's the cat's meow. I can't wait to work with all my women for the fall season! I do love private clients so.
kim | 07 August, 2005 11:01
I have written about this before: personal responsibility. I'm not talking about Somalia, here, I'm talking about us, here in the United States. We have food, shelter, water, laws that mostly protect us (except not women and children that well, with Florida taking the lead on the children part) and yet we complain like bastards. Whatever you feel is in your way right now, I would advise you to shut your trap about it (sorry, I am thinking about someone in particular with this harsh language, not you - for you I would say to re-focus and be gentle)? not hold it in your hand like a small piece of red velvet, rubbing it and rubbing it. I would suggest you try to see what your part in it is and try to move through that. Because it's often the inside world, not the outside world, that dictates our struggles.
Except for facial hair. For women, do you recommend lazer or electrolysis? I've heard pros and cons to both and I think lazer is too new and does something to the pigment above your lip or something. Anyone have any pifall stories on either? Not for me, it's for my friend.
Do The Blazer Thing
kim | 04 August, 2005 08:56
Do you remember the character Radio Raheem from Spike Lee's Do The Right Thing? I think he is now the uber-stylist for all the makeover shows - the stylist in the back room with the shiny mahogany walls and the dark lighting. He has uttered an edict that goes for all makeover shows, "put a blazer on the motherf****** and shit," and who is any one stylist to disobey? Please, someone, end the tyrany. Or, if makeover shows are secretly just an ad for middle-income shopping establishments, then let's have a catalogue at the end of the show. But let's not pretend this takes talent or art, okay? Because it's all the same fricking thing. It's boring and just because it has tailored lines does not mean it is flattering. In fact, the blazer, I think, is the culprit for many unfashionable outfits. Especially for girls that afe thick in the middle. Like someone you might know. Or me or something.
Beauty Faux Pas #3 - Less is more
kim | 03 August, 2005 22:25
In the heat, it is not neccessary to wear so much makeup. Particularly the lilac-ish brown frosted shades of lipstick coupled with much brown eyeshadow on the eye lid, white highlighter under the brow, the purple eyeliner on top and the teal eyeliner on the bottom. This is not a free-for-all, people. Just because you have it in your drawer/bag/purse does not mean that it all goes on your face at the same time. And if you must follow such a course of action, please do not smile at strangers on the street to disarm them from judgements against you. I cannot believe that you watched five seasons of Sex and the City and still walk out of your house like that!
My Life Not on the D-List
kim | 01 August, 2005 11:34
Hundreds of years ago, before dinosaurs roamed the earth, there was a funny little show on a funny little cable network called the RuPaul Show. As a freelancer, I did Kathy Griffith's makeup, which looked great - it really did. So much so that she asked for my phone number. AND THEN SHE NEVER CALLED ME. Am I not even good enough to? rate with someone who doesn't think she's good enough? What does that make me? On the L-List? L is for Loser, people.
I thought she was pretty before, but I can understand how she didn't think so. She is a brilliant comedian and so I don't think it really matters what in the good Lord's name she looks like, but we all have our hang ups, believe me, obviously. Her public plastic surgeries have made her really pretty and her makeup always looks amazing. I loved the sparkly eye shadow she wore on the D-list. Her teeth are a little distracting; but who says I'm not jealous? I'm not loving her hair, but I understand it. I promised no more sentence construction like that but I can't help myself, sorry. But you should watch it when it's on. She's so fricking funny.
Fired For Life
kim | 27 July, 2005 22:01
I can't say this, I will get in so much trouble, but I will say it anonymously. The pictures for the fall makeup collections look like the models were let out of the beauty assylum, the makeup artists were defrosted from 1992 and they were designed by the Emperor's New Art Director. Yuck. Let's hope the makeup is better. I know it is at Nars, and MAC. That's all I have to say.
Self Tanner Warnings
kim | 27 July, 2005 12:17
in one block I spied: a perfectly lovely girl with a perfectly lovely
tan on the top portion of her body; but her feet looked like she had rubbed in a sheer application of barbeque sauce.
Just because you've exfoliated and applied it properly, does not mean
it will look good if it's the wrong color: context is everything. Then,
on the same block there was a woman who had applied the self tanner in
such a willy nilly fashion, that she missed the backs of her knees, her
ankles - anywhere there was an indent. As if she had applied it with an
electronic shoe buffer. She looked like just the type, too.
Please Do Not Blog About Work
kim | 22 July, 2005 23:30
I am saying this for you and for me. Plus, I am also trying to change my syntax to exclude the word but and the weight of two equal but opposite sides. I guess I will have to prove that to you over time.
If Dooce did not convince you, then let the poor Jolie in NYC convince you. I can speak from painful experience, no matter how inconsequential the outcome, that warnings against blogging about work should now come before admonitions against going into business with family, lending friends money and, maybe, not wearing a condom. Just don't do it, people.
Jolie, I don't know you, but I am so sorry you got busted. I appreciate your humor and your talent will land you somewhere great.
kim | 07 July, 2005 22:28
Oh, dear. This morning was horrible, no? More terrorist attacks. People who have been persuaded to hurt and kill others because they feel it is the religious thing to do.
When I was 31, I became bat mitzvah. That means daughter of the commandments. That means, here's the book -? follow the rules. And the rules say: don't hurt anyone else; it is incumbent upon YOU to heal the world. So. How can I repair the world if I am making fun of other people or saying bad things about them? Or showing their pictures on my other blog and making fun of them? A Buddhist might even say that my aggression, my attack is contributing to the aggression in the world. As a Jew, a mother and a lover of all people, I call for a truce. The rules also say that language is very important and when you talk about someone negatively it is akin to murder. That you must not even speak positively in front of the enemies of that person, as it might incite those enemies to contradict you. It is called lashon ha-ra, or the evil tongue.
A few Yom Kippurs ago, I swore it off. No gossip. No mean talk. No Star Magazine or Access Hollywood. Dude, for a year. I swear. Then the following year I picked up Star. It's a slippery slope. So.
To all the people that I have injured, I apologize and I hope you can forgive me. I will not contribute to this practice anymore. I hope we can all find little ways to make this world a better place. It so needs it right now.
Let's say a little prayer for those in England who lost loved ones.
Today I bought some Jason products - their new anti-oxidant line, "Red." I'll let you know how it goes.
I Need Love, Please Love Me
kim | 02 July, 2005 20:39
So pathetic. Here's what I've learned about myself this week: it's hard to parent and work. When I work, I get extra tired. When I get extra tired, I get extra needy. When I get extra needy, I get extra bitchy. And voila! One professional relationship ruined. Maybe two. I hope not. Sorry, D. I let my exhaustion get the better of me.
Back in the Reclining Chair Again
kim | 27 June, 2005 09:50
There are a few things more boring than doing certain shows at certain times in certain places. Counting pennies and rolling them up, making patterns out of ceiling tiles while at the dentist. Lifetime Television shows. Yes, there are few things. So why, then, can't I get more done while I'm there? A malaise sets upon me and my limbs get heavy, my mind gets gooey and I end up watching a shamefully bad Arnold Schwartzenegger movies because I can't change the channel to what I really want to watch because they took away the clicker. So I watch it.
This happened before: I ate what they gave me, I watched what they showed me, and I did makeup the way they told me. Boring. I've been trying to do something new and have been really enjoying it, but when the building and the network is so big, they are hard to argue with. So I'll go in and they can plug the module in the back of my head and I will be a smiling robot for the 4-8 hours I am there.
(said with robot arms and monotone voice) How may I help you today?
The Truth About Moms and Models
kim | 24 June, 2005 20:28
Recently I did a casting for a model for an upcoming project. You may or may not see it on my website in the future.
Did I mention that I'm a working mother? It's so heinous how I work - really, really short spurts, housework on top of or under my day and juggling a million errands in between. The kid doesn't even want me to talk on the phone anymore.. I try to get everything in there. It's so horrible. Noah's about to dump me, check that - he already has, but I'm in denial about it - but I think I can make this all work. I mean, aren't we all working mothers now? Isn't the world set up to accomodate the sea of excellent humanity we're ushering in to Save the World? Does is really have to be a 10 hour work day? Why not a 6 hour work day? If you don't frick around too much, you can get it done. I'd rather go home early then wait for my cappucino at 4:00. That's why I don't do commercials, baby, even though the pay is incredible.? I can't spend that much time away from the kid; especially since his babysitter is cutting back her tiny hours that she already barely gives me. Okay, that I barely ask for. But I want to juggle it because I actually have physical pain in my gut if I'm away from him for too long. I mean, some time is nice, but I brought him here, I owe it to him to stick around a little. Plus, he's so cuddly.
So if you were a model and you came into a house with toys all over the place, you'd probably walk all over them, too, with your filthy street shoes and get microscopic particles of blood and dog shit all over the playmat of a kid who puts everything in their mouth. And, if you knew, you just knew in your heart that you weren't getting this stupid, crappy job that was casted in some stupid, fat makeup artist's house, I would step on the kid's stuffed animal, too. Just to make a point. Just to make that mom work extra hard and have to mop up the floor when her eyes were searing because they were open and so that she'd have to do a load of laundry the next day at 7:00 am while she's lugging her precious 32 lb. kid around. That'll teach her.
Or maybe she was stereotypically flakey. Either way, models are meeting me in a coffee shop from now on.?
How Many Hairdressers Does it Take To Get the Right Hair Cut?
kim | 11 June, 2005 21:53
Three. The answer is three.
One to brilliantly color your hair, but not really cut it that much and maybe convince you a little to keep it long even though you're thinking of a change for summer. It's sexier when it's long she might convince you. She should be here every day to hold the kid since he's afraid of the blow drier so you have to hold him in your lap while sitting on the floor, bent over, keeping it on the super-hot setting, but blasting him with the cold air button now and again when he requests it. With no mirror because you are as low to the ground as you can be without laying down.
But then you do really want it shorter, like a piece-y blunt cut that you had years ago cut by someone who was more proficient at cutting hair than she was at being nice. So you moved on from the girl, but then there were kind of shitty cuts after that.
Then you happen to work with someone one day who is willing to cut off the four inches but doesn't really finish the bottom properly but she tries to pretend that it looks good by using the ceramic flat iron to flip it out.
Then, exasperated, after having left a message by hand for your son's haircutter who has blue toenail polish and dots of white bleach oddly placed around her brown hair and not having your call returned, you drop in on her and wait a little while and get a pedicure before you sit down in her chair. Micro manage every strand that she pulls between her index and middle finger. Ask her if she's sure that she knows what you mean. I mean, because we all have language, but how do you know what I'm saying and meaning ends up being what you're hearing? You know? Ever try getting your point across to a guy? You might not be convinced when she's done - ESPECIALLY because of how she is blow drying it, so wrest the loud, hot machine from her hands along with her round brush and blow it out yourself. Convince yourself that it looks okay even if now all of your back fat is really exposed. If only that front piece would grow.
When you get home, investigate beauty schools and do the math for going to school to learn to cut your own goddamned hair.
The Beauty Jungle
kim | 10 June, 2005 11:23
?Makeup artists are sharks, snakes and bitches and I always prided myself on not being predatory. Lord knows, I've been preyed upon. It's so devastating. I've had the job ripped from me like my protective fur and limbs in cruel and gang-like ways as the other animals not directly involved with the links on my?food chain have stood on the sidelines and watched me go down. As my herd separated themselves from me and watched the bloody display, all that dust kicking up and the quick and spectacular tumult of limbs leaves bystanders feeling pierced, it's that brutal. I've?been?eaten?by my own and it's?ugly.?I'm more like a scavenger, happy to pick up the scraps of someone else's kill. Hey, uh, anyone eating this meat? No, you all done? Okay, guess I'll dig in. Thanks! I would not like to benefit from the misfortunes of others. I want nobody to have misfortunes. But if there is a sick and dying animal?on the dusty plain -?can I circle around and see how long it will last before it expires?How ethical is that? Or is it just the law of the jungle?
Beauty Faux Pas - Case Study #1
kim | 09 June, 2005 22:47
Witness the woman: she is blonde, with curly, un-blowdried hair hastily put back in a rubber band. See her pants? They are pressed and her shoes low and sensible.?Her smallish white sleeveless summer sweater?billows ever so?slightly around her?torso, so she seems smart in regard to her food intake. But her makeup is undone and although she may have taken a shower, it doesn't appear that way. She may just be the type of woman that always looks like she has a dirty face. True, it's a million degrees outside, but she has that slimy film on her face. Undereye circles are her problem. They are dark, but more so, they are deeply grooved. She will need a few products. And she TAKES THEM OUT ON THE BUS. First, she applies T. LeClerc powder on her face with her FINGERS from the COMPACT and then rubs it in her face with her FINGERS. If you can believe that. Then, she takes out a brush, did I mention we were on the bus? The express bus? - and dabs what I can only imagine is Laura Mercier Secret Camoflauge cream under her eyes, although she has not mixed it with anything, which is a preferable move. Then, she takes out the Stila concealer and applies that with her finger. This was all before 9:00 am. So what I'm saying here is, lipstick? Fine. Powder? Sure! A quick peek at the parsely in between your teeth? Better for the rest of us. But a full application of heavy duty concealer in 27 steps or less? I don't think Miss Manners would approve. This is just one of the beauty faux pas I saw today. I will keep you updated.
Almost Done Cleaning...National Clear the Air Day, Part Deux
kim | 26 May, 2005 20:22
I got a response from ol' BFF. A precursor to a response. It's getting me anxious for the real letter to come; but sad because the tone is the same - she has not changed. How can two nice Jewish girls so well suited for each other have such personality differences that they are a trainwreck waiting to happen? I should give it a chance although it's a letter that's coming and not a phone call, so that's pretty much a dead end. I don't really want to be friends again, I just want to walk around in my old neighborhood without fear of cringing. You know, clear the air and what not. Whatever. Sometimes you just gotta let go. And if it doesn't return to you, it was never meant to be.
Here's a tissue to wipe that puke off your lip.
On a lighter note, I had a physical today with Mike's doctor who is actually cuter than I remember but he's got really bad balding hair. Meaning, the whole head is still in full force, the sides are complete, and the top is blow-dried back up and back, but there are like 20 clumps of hair there. Neat and in succession, but only 20. Maybe they are implants or maybe that's what's left and he never let it go and he's still blow-drying it in the same style he always had it. When he asked me what medications I was taking I told him, the last of which is Appearex that my dermatologist suggested. It's a biotin proven to help with balding, because I was taking it when I lost all that hair after I stopped nursing. It's really great for balding I said to him looking him in the eye. And I felt like I was saying, YOU'RE BALD! JUST SHAVE THAT SHIT OFF YOUR DOME, YO. But blood had not been drawn yet, so I thought I would be tactful since I'm terrified of all needles.
A Day of Doctor's Visits
kim | 24 May, 2005 19:14
Our poor family - we're falling apart. Today I spent? hours writhing in the dentist's chair hoping against hope that my two fractured teeth that she drilled down are not fractured down to the root and will thus need to be extracted, i.e. pulled out of my head with pliers. And then we waited an hour and a half at the frickin' dermatologist's office because the kid is covered in non-specific tiny red dots again. Some are bigger than others; but he is always scratching. I will not lament about Mike's knee or his broken pinky toe or all the sleep we are missing. Right now, it's just not very pretty around here.
Revenge of the Sith - Beauty Movie Review (With Spoilers!)
kim | 22 May, 2005 01:20
My mom came over tonight to watch the kid so me and Mike could go to a movie. I used to like film; but there's no time for that, so I'll settle for a movie. Mike suggested three different Kung-Fu movies, which would be fine if I saw?films all the time; but since I don't I said - very politely - Capital F, no. We decided on Revenge of the Sith. And got tickets quite easily. The kid went clunk at 8:20 and we high tailed it outta here.
The movie was a bummer. How can you have such great actors and such lousy acting? It really could have been a moving experience if we could have gotten invested in the drama of the characters; but how can you when they aren't even acting like people? Although I really identify with Anakin because through fear he aligned himself with the dark side.? But the dialog was straight out of Three's Company. Without the double entendres and the fake sex hijinks. So conceptually it worked but dramatically it flopped.?The effects,?however,?are spectacular.
Even more spectacular is the beefcake shot we get of Hayden Christiansen coming out of bed. WOW is he buff! I think they meant him to be a sexy ugly guy, when he's really turning out to be a sexy sexy guy. That guy is hot.
Then there's Natalie who is a silken milky perfect beauty. Her makeup is pitch perfect in every scene and each hairdo is more ridiculous than the next. I understand it, but it just doesn't work. And what's with that back of the teeth lisp that she acquired for Garden State? Unnecessary.
And here's the spoiler: what happens to Anakin is really awful and gross, he gets burned to a crisp and then they fix him up and put all that Darth Vader gear on him, but they never clean him off. So, what? He's all ookie under that pristine plastic outfit? Yuck. In the future, I hope they're a little more sanitary than that. Which they seemed to be for the birth scene, they had this proper little tunnel covering her legs and she gave birth in a white gown and her face was a little shvitzy afterwards and then she dies in the most serene way. After I gave birth I had broken capilaries all over my face and it was all puffed out for pushing for two hours. My hair was sticking out from all ends. I looked like I had been in a continuous 12 hour bar brawl. Not like I had just been styled for three hours.
So all in all the makeup worked, it was a good looking movie. I'm bummed that George Lucas chose beauty over substance.
I Have Nothing To Wear
kim | 21 May, 2005 07:52
by Kim Weinstein.
I have nothing to wear because:
It's my mother's fault (promises of a new wardrobe not kept after I lost 20 lbs. as a teenager - I was routinely bribed to lose weight and was?routinely 20-40 lbs. overweight).
I got fat, so nothing fits.
I have not toned-up post baby. What's a girl to do with all that extra skin and fat in the middle?
I have an apple-shaped body to begin with, so nothing looks good when I try it on. There are essentially no clothes for me.
I live my life in black t-shirts. That's not style.
The four garments that do look good on me are dirty.?
I never have time to shop.
I don't know a good tailor.
I just returned $400 worth of garments because I can't tell what they're really like until I get them home.
IT'S HARD GETTING OUT OF THE HOUSE, MAN!
Life Is Like Oscar and So Am I
kim | 19 May, 2005 21:33
Poor Mike. He is Felix and he married Oscar. I am so messy. I am trying my best. It's just that my brain does not work that way, despite my deepest desire to be organized. I'm getting better at it, though. It takes so much time to clean up. I just don't see the point, really. But I'm doing it anyway.
And you know what else? I'm just a messy person. I have feelings, sometimes not so good - especially lately. I've been struggling with them for about a week or so, trying to keep my chin up and a calm face for my little dude. But it's hard and I think I may have fallen in with the wrong crowd again; a bad habit I have, so I'm not really getting that much support. This is the worst punctuated post you've probably read in a while.
That's in part why the posts are slower. Also, the kid now goes to sleep 2-3 hours later than he did before. 9:00 is the new 6:30 around here. And I've been working alot of makeup jobs - 4 this week alone - so when am I supposed to do anything else? I'M TRYING TO WRITE A DARK NOVEL HERE, PEOPLE! Not live one.
The problem is that I don't want to give up any time with the kid because I just love him too much. So I will have to get a little bit less sleep, not post perfectly, leave my crumpled garments on the floor and sometimes fall into bed without washing my face because sometimes life is just messy.
I'm So Organizized
kim | 16 May, 2005 12:11
I have a big job on Wednesday and I want to say thanks to the women at Nars for arranging some help for me. They were incredibly helpful, thank you. I am re-arranging my kit, it's so messy. I can't really figure out how to get all the little pieces in neat configurations without spending the whole amount of the job I'm getting on the stuff that I need to get for it. I still have to go to MAC and then Ricky's. We'll see how it all pans out.
Truth be told, I'm in a cleaning frenzy. I can't stop straightening up and throwing things out. I'm clearing the way for something; I'm just not sure what.
Not like I really have time for any of it. Today I had to get the kid his shots and unlike all the other times, it was quick and virtually painless and he's fine now. I'm so excited about this, partially because him getting his shots makes me almost faint because the thought of someone hurting him is worse than someone hurting me; but also because he won't be sick this afternoon and I can take him around on errands. I'm sure he'll be thrilled.
Tomorrow I will get my roots done. And by roots I mean half of my head practically. My roots are almost as long as a small high heel. I would say two inches. How'd it get so long? Easy: I don't do them unless I have a big job or unless someone comments because I always forget. I just don't have time. I'm trying to get better organized.
It's Called a Work Ethic
kim | 10 May, 2005 20:22
Do not agree to test with me, avoid my calls - or act like you're doing me a favor and I have to hunt you down if I want to get my stuff. No, darling. Because I don't want to work with you if I book a model and then you make me look bad with the agency because I'm missing a crucial element. First of all, rest assured: I will make it work. Second of all: you don't really want to be doing what you say you want to be doing. Third: don't screw people over at the last minute - even if it's at the suggestion of a friend who only knows the partial story. It may not come back to haunt you, but you will never work with me again. I'm a bitch that way.
Do you know that Pol Pot died peacefully in the jungle? I don't really believe in what comes around goes around. I just keep my eye on the straight and narrow.
Meanwhile, we had an easy shoot today. I think we got some nice pictures. It was nice to be so mellow and then to just come home. My head is filled with mucous and my bones ache, so I'm happy that I wasn't too over taxed. Because I'm going to upload my flog, make fun of Renee Zellweger on my other blog and cuddle up with my main man and snore loud.
It Even Happens to Me
kim | 08 May, 2005 20:10
Those girls behind the counter, with their perfect makeup and their access to those drawers! Why can't we look in there for ourselves? I was meeting a private client at Bloomies on my day off, on my personal down time, and - don't tell Mike - I did a little shopping. When the bill comes in I will tell him to cancel the charges. No, just joking. I bought two lipglosses at Sephora and the Christian Dior concealer at Bloomie's, which I thought they only sold at Saks, so there. And then I went to the Laura Mercier counter to look at the new collection. I don't know who's doing her packaging these days - meaning packing up her colors in new configurations - but it sure looks good. Plus, it's one of my most favorite makeup lines. For grownup ladies, brides, regular girls and all other manner and type of woman, it's one of the most complete lines on the market. Although women possessing the funk and the rock n' roll hearts might find a few things in this line, they would better be suited by Nars, Urban Decay, Too Faced and MAC. But I daydream.
Anyway, I first touched the new blush and she gave me the cream blush brush and acted like I was a moron. Because she was deaf. I was wondering why I was swiping a flat, acrylic brush through a powder color quad, but whatever. I'm someone who has to contain her temper and doesn't like to be bossed around, so I really didn't appreciate her tone. Then she told me they were sold out. As well as the eyeshadow duo I was interested in for my client. Then the lip gloss. Now, when we got to the lip gloss, she started in.
"Yeah, we don't have any testers. They flew out of the store. We only have two pieces left."
"Okay, can I see one?"
"Yeah, but you can't touch it."
"I know." So she brings it out and I open up the box and she's getting nervous.
"Can I open it?"
But I can see she's ready to start the moment I twist off the cap.
"Can I open it," I ask, having twisted off the cap but not yet pulled out the wand.
"Yes," she said through pleading and micro managing eyes.
It was a beautiful color. And, theoretically, I do need some new colors. Although Mike, I'm sure, would disagree. Our house is lousy with lipglosses rolling under foot.
I got so panicked about there being none left. I could use it for me! It's a perfect bridal color! Me and Noah have a test coming up! I HAVE TO PUT THIS WAND ON MY MOUTH RIGHT NOW! I told myself and I knew I had a $20 in my wallet with this lip gloss all over Andrew Jackson's lips. So I bought it, because she created a sense of scarcity.
"So when is that eyeshadow coming in?" She did this whole rigamarole with the paperwork and told me the 23rd. It was the 7th. Who can wait that long for makeup?
So I met my client and formulated a complicated alternate plan for the eyeshadow scenario. Then?we?went to the Laura counter and?spoke to another girl, coincidentally.?No, we have it in! She said, like we were crazy. And I didn't want to ask her about the lipgloss because I was going to throttle that?fricking bitch who terrified me into buying a lipgloss.
So, you see, it even happens to me when I'm suceptible. I never pay retail for makeup but I was in the mood to?purchase a few glosses for myself. And?although the Laura one I?bought is gorgeous, I'm ashamed of the way it made its way into my purse.?
C'est n'est pas literature
kim | 05 May, 2005 22:05
Last night I went to see this NYPL Late Series thingie that Eric Bogosian was moderating called The New Literacy: how the novel and the theater are dying. No, no, just the literacy part, but the other part no. It had on the panel John Guare, Stephen Adly Girguis (I'm sure I'm misspelling that and I heartily aplogize), John Patrick Sex God Shanley and this young comic book guy who writes Tokyo Pop. Sorry, I couldn't hear his name and if I'm not going to use it, I'm not going to retain it and I don't think I'll have much to do with comic books in the short future.
So I was ready for some brilliance and to see if I was wasting my time writing my novel. Guare was stately, Girguis was humble and therefore very encouraging and every word that fell from Shanley's lips was another raspberry, a strawberry, a pearl, a diamond, a cupcake. He looks like an English teacher (boring) but he also sounds like a brilliant English teacher and is therefore irresistable. Don't worry,?Mike is my one true love in real life.
So Bogosian was complaining about the state of literature: how Hemingway used to sell billions of novels, how fine literature was once the popular entertainment and it no longer is and how he longs for the days of the alcoholic writer that would dig deep into himself and give life to his innermost self and create literature. That he was bummed out about the Da Vinci Code and the Lovely Bones. The Lovely Bones, he said, sorry, was not literature.
Wait. What the fuck? I did not read the Lovely Bones. I didn't read it because I read Lucky which was so harrowing I was destroyed for a week or two. Alice Sebold was my very first fiction teacher. I will always love her. I know what her process is. Not personally, but what I write today, the sensations I feel for, the daily gentle reminder that I have to do it every day - this is what I got from her. And I know she writes literature.
I feel like I'm telling on him, but it was a public forum and I would have this discussion with him in real life if I could or perhaps if he had a woman up there, she might have said something about this.
What is literature? Everything is Illuminated is literature. I cried reading that book almost every other page because I thought - I will never write like this and he's only 25 - it made me bodily sick and jealous. But I also cried because of the imagery and the plot and the characters. It was a beautiful book and I although I don't think it's for everyone because the Jewish humor - or the humor about being Jewish?might lose some people because it's so personal, I hope that everyone will have a literary experience like that. Where they fall in love with a book and it breaks their heart - the author breaks their heart, the book being?finished breaks their heart.
But how can one white guy on a panel of other white guys say that a book?narrated by?a seven year old dead girl is not literature? I am shocked to see that kind of dismissiveness about women's work and women's topics?in my generation and the generation right before mine. It's so invalidating.
I have such a hard time writing and I went to this lecture for inspiration. I am really hard on myself and worry about my novel all the time -?to the extent?that I don't write it. I've spent so much time in self-criticism and I'm just breaking free of that now. I didn't need another negative voice in my head. My book is going to qualify as chick lit, okay? But I'm putting my dark soul into it so I hope you will all really learn?and feel and see the world in a different way?when it's over. I'm here in my pink ghetto, but it's mine and I'm going to have to decorate it all comfy because those boys are never going to have me over to their playdate.
So I walked out, came home, wrote a little and went to sleep.
The New Yorker
kim | 28 April, 2005 19:05
On the various shows for which I have done make up, I have had the good fortune - or the misfortune - of doing the make up of at least one editor, two staff writers, three freelancers and two cartoonists?from the New Yorker . This is my favorite publication and the one?for which it is my deepest, darkest desire in my most desperate,?breathless?fantasy to be published. I have never submitted one word.
Many years ago, while working on an obscure program for an obscure channel, I soothed and charmed one writer who was disgusted she was on?the same?panel with a more low-brow journalist. As my reward, she offered to take me under her wing and groom me for a little section that they had going which has since stopped running; but?I don't think I had enough self-esteem at the time to even consider it. Unfortunately - or?fortunately -??she was mercurial and decided against it the night I called her and she was feeding her child.?Her chilly tone was a?great disappointment to me but it was also a great thrill to call her at home. She was a pretty cranky person. I wonder if I still have her number.
I've gotten to the point now where I don't have to prove myself in front of them: I don't have to tell them I'm a writer. I don't have to give them all the excuses why I'm not writing. I don't have to jab them with small insults or thrill them with sarcastic acrobatics. I can simply have a conversation with one if they happen to be in my chair. They don't care, I realized. They are about to go on TV and are nervous and are thinking about their segment. Not what?a loser I am and how I should be writing more.
There is one writer, however, that I hate. I love the section, but I detest the writer. I did some of that kind of writing in college and I decided not to go into that field precisely because I didn't want to write a bunch of complaining, derivative expositions on other people's work. To me, he has just one good sentence in a two page article, always. Like?using the whole ice rink to set up for a jump with no foot?work.?I am ashamed to admit, I always complain about that writer to any New Yorker writer who is sitting in my chair. It's not nice, it's clearly sour grapes and it makes me look like a moron when I'm trying to be superior.
So, you probably know who you are, I'm sorry for being such a bitch. If I want to work for the New Yorker so badly, I have to submit many, many manuscripts, I'm sure. Perhaps I'll start with just one.
kim | 28 April, 2005 07:29
I tried, in vain, for two hours to write. I have not menitoned that I've been going to work an hour early every morning (at 4 am) to write and then the child has been up between 12:30 and 2:00 crying and scratching. Itiching, scratching, scooping, tearing at his skin that even Cort-Aid has not helped. Poor guy. I finally started drinking coffee after a couple of years.
So I laid down on the couch just in time for the insults. The great thing about Janice Dickinson is that she embraces the whole thing and she makes fun of it at the same time. When one of the judges said one of the models was too fat, she said speak for yourself. I think he was the fattest judge. Just because you're wearing a suit does not mean you're not the fattest one, bitch. Then she humped Tyra. All those judges need to be sloppily humped by Janice to knowck the fake decorum and arrogance out of them. Janice totally gets that.
Then they made the unstable one with the roots cry. I could smell how dirty she smelled through the tv, some of these girls just don't know how to take care?of themselves. She has no job and no self esteem. She has some pretty great pictures and I don't think she'll ever be able to push herself in the way they did, nor will she be given entre into the same doors. Jen, or whatever your name is - if you want to work with me and Noah, we will give you some awesome pictures. Okay, hon? You are just such a delicate flower, I'm so worried you're going to end up in internet porn. Please don't. You have your whole life ahead of you.
The Cookie Fairy Giveth...
kim | 20 April, 2005 12:04
week old cookies. That's why?she can afford to give out so much for free.?Bitch.
Beauty Is In The Eye Of The Person To Whom You Give Your Power
kim | 16 April, 2005 20:52
Today I met one of the most gorgeous creatures of my life. But she hated herself. Not just like we do, but in a way that made her twitch and cluck and jiggle her leg. She just couldn't stand being in there, man. I felt so bad for her. I hugged her, I told her she was awesome, but how much can I help when I'm only there for four hours and she has to live with herself all the time.
Golly, I thought I had problems. Can we, all, people: look where your feet are, then where your body is (four walls? Outside?- lamp post, etc.) then what it smells like. You get the point. Come back to the present and know that everything is okay.
I think that there are so many women out there suffering from anxiety disorders and the remedy is not neccessarily medication or more lipstick, it's meditation and being present. Welcome to the present. So nice to see you here.
kim | 13 April, 2005 22:24
Gotta love 'em. But sometimes they're flaky. I think they would agree.
This is Your Jaw on TMJ
kim | 12 April, 2005 22:22
For the last two weeks, I have been fighting this TMJ. I look back at my blog: migranes, exhaustion. I thought it was just regular new mom stuff mixed with doing too much, but it was TMJ. Thanks to the kid for head butting me into jaw trauma, but really thanks to him that he didn't break my nose yesterday. It was the first time I felt guilty because I was mad at my son. He injured me.
On a more anxiety-producing note, I made three pitches two weeks ago and told the editors I would follow up that week, but this has had me in knots. I am going to follow up tomorrow but I am nervous that I look too flaky now, when I am anything but. I hope they understand that I am the hardest worker that will ever work for them should they choose to hire me.
One time when I worked at Saks and I was peaking with my book and the position, I wrote down an extrodinarily important interview with an extrodinarily important beauty editor in the wrong week of my date book. I was out, um, doing something (I'll never tell, but it may have had somthing to do with putting the finishing touches on my book party dress) and I got a frantic call from my assistant. I ran back to Saks from 37th Street in high heels because I couldn't find a cab and when I got there, winded and sweating, I found the beauty editor among the Miu Miu and Isaac Shoes on the third floor. I genuflected. I begged, I tap danced, ("So and so, how I love ya, how I love ya), I practically pulled her into my office (I had to stay my hand) but no dice. No dice.
And now she's important, and she will never, ever hire me. Because of one mistake. I hope others are a little more flexible. I'm a very reliable,excellent, hard working -?but human -?person.
Anna Nicole Smith, Pulitzer Prize Winner
kim | 10 April, 2005 21:32
No, no. Just a columnist for the National Enquirer. But still.
I am given to fits of procrastination brought on largely by the classic low self-esteem of the writer who needs to tell but cannot because of precisely what has happened. If you know what I mean.
Anna Nicole is not a?columnist. She is not a TV star.?Liz Smith?is a columnist,?Cindy Adams, Jake:?A Man's Opinion. These are columnists. Anna Nicole is a stripper and the business development executive in charge of fried chicken. Puffy is not an actor and he's not an auto parts salesman. He's a dancer. And perhaps the Donald Trump of Music Producers.
If I told you how many maroons?that have been through my makeup chair making money hand over fist when the one secret they seem to know is really?how to stay skinny so that they look good on TV or in the movies, you would cry. (I have never touched the faces of either ANS nor the P nor the I nor the D nor the Diddy)
So in a way, Paris Hilton publishing her memoirs, Pamela Anderson doing the same,?this one writing a column, baby, makes me want to take to my bed for a week and then it makes?me want to finish my novel. So I will stay up late. It's hard being a mom, having two websites, trying to pitch magazines, trying to keep the house straight and get my figure back and write the novel. I figure now, though, what I'm going to do is do the body and the novel first and the other stuff I will get to later in the day. This week, anyway.
In tooth-related news, I cannot close my?mouth now. I remember now that last night the kid clocked me in the jaw with his head?- he does that now when he's tired and doesn't want to go to sleep - so hard that?I thought he broke my front two teeth.?And it hurt my?jaw really badly. So maybe the kid broke my jaw? I'll hopefully go to the dentist tomorrow. Hooray! Another?thing to take me away from?my?novel!??
Brutal, Part II
kim | 07 April, 2005 09:48
Sorry, I had a migrane last night.
America's Top Model:
The judging is so sad to me because it's clear that the producers are like, "meaner, get meaner!" Supermodels know how hard it is, but men don't. I wish they were more constructive. It makes me squirm like the Howard Stern show. Project Runway was at least dignified. They are so mean.
Meanwhile, Jay is an amazing makeup artist - why is he making Tyra look like a drag queen? And why doesn't anyone say anything about his Doodlebops hair do? That blonde paint thing is so weird. I just started watching so I don't know if he's had it from week to week. Yuck. But he's such a sweet, sweet guy. I was on a team once for the opening of the new Iman line at Sephora. So that was my only contact with him ever but he was a doll.
Matthu Andersen is one of our finest makeup artists. In the top 5. Kevyn was this incredible makeup artist, but nobody has the range of Matthu. So why does he have a faint Phillipino accent? He's not Phillipino. But I?would lay down prostrate (isn't that what the Nuns do?) to assist him for a week. He's a GEEEEENEOUS! But silly with that accent and that truck-stop facial hair. So cute Matthu, why the uglifying of yourself?
Tyra, you are gorgeous. Why are your teeth neon white. I was wearing sunglasses last night. I know I need mine whitened, but, girl, have a cup of coffee and don't brush for 10 minutes, okay?
Oddly , the only one that did make sense was the kooky Janice Dickenson (whom I loved as a girl reading magazines) who, when?Matthu said something about one of the girls needing to lose 5-10 lbs. (and oddly nothing about her terrible dye job with the black roots poking through or her yellowish teeth) said, I'm fat, we're ALL fat in this room! Lightening the mood, making fun of them all.
See? How does it feel? Not so good, huh? I did it because I was swayed by the mood of the evening and also to prove a point. Now I hope they don't come after me and kick my ass to prove a point. hee hee.
America's Next Top Model
kim | 06 April, 2005 21:31
It's Called a Learning Curve
kim | 03 April, 2005 22:20
And I'm on the upward slope. Please send quickening vibes over here as I try to master a new skill. It's a little painful.
Sending Love and Blessings
kim | 02 April, 2005 21:52
To any of you who are Catholic tonight. The Pope was an extraordinary man, a force of peace and love in the world that perhaps sometimes is not brimming with that sort of thing. Whether you are Catholic or not, the world lost a very important man tonight and I grieve his loss and my hearts go out to you who saw him as your spiritual touchstone.
Goodbye, C*ck Blog
kim | 31 March, 2005 21:02
I am having such a good time with Laws of Nature. When I get snarky, I really get snarky. And you know what? I realized there is so much c*ck on that blog, I really surprised myself. I'm behaving like a 12 year old boy.?And you know what? I got some really negative feedback for it. I really offended someone important to me. So, I'm going to take the c*ck off the blog. Perhaps I will start a different blog and do some different kind of marketing, but until I create the C*ck Blog, which I just don't have the energy to do right now, feel free to start your own.
Good luck with it. I'm going back to being a lady.
Tonight I Will Not Eat Cupcakes
kim | 30 March, 2005 19:45
Only because I can't get to them. Or else I would have four. It's that kind of night. It will pass and then it will be morning. Right?
That Old Dream Again
kim | 26 March, 2005 05:36
Last night I had a dream that I took a day-long SAT sort of situation, like an SAT carnival replete with dirty streets and ice cream cones and algebra panic. Yes, I was forced to take an four-hour long algebra test last night in my dreams?for which?I wasn't prepared. The English stuff I?guess I did great on, but the?other, oy.?I was panicked the whole time and then?when we went to get our scores,?I looked for my name on the list in the?top nine passing categories and it wasn't there. In addition, when Richard Dreyfuss asked his?producer for a memo,?I?had been the one to to type it and she told the table of test takers (on a long table like 10 times the size?of the Pain Quotidient community table) that there were three typos and it was my fault.?And then Kristi, a real girl from my real acting program who had a real baby in real life whose body bounced back real quickly, mocked me.
Yay! Good morning to you, too!
The Pretend Nice Lady Down The Hall
kim | 24 March, 2005 07:59
We moved into our apartment building when I was about 5 months pregnant. We had lived, for too many years, in a fifth floor walk up that was way too small but had charm, a lovely courtyard and was $800 a month. But obviously we couldn't stay there. The weekend I moved here, I also moved my office at Saks (by myself) and I ended up in the hosiptal because I was bleeding but everything was okay and it was an unrelated to moving problem.
Immediately I noticed how nice everyone was in the building. We had lived for so long in a?building with bitter, single women, hustling men, old dogs and skulking illegal subletors that I didn't even remember what it was like to live with nice neighbors. But everyone was so welcoming.
Soon after we moved in, I bumped into an elderly lady down the hall. Seemed reminded me of the nice version of my mean old aunt, G-d rest her soul. This lady always wanted to go out for coffee. I would have loved to, but I was sick all the time, either sleeping or working or eating or passing gas. 2:00 - 5:00 in the morning would have been a perfect time because I had insomnia so bad. But there was something there - I didn't know anyone in the building and I didn't want the crazies to befriend me and also there was something a little off. So I made polite conversation until I had the baby.
After we got home we had all these nursing problems and I was up morning, noon and night, sick with worry and feeling terrible because my awful doctor who I am restraining myself from naming here because I have such vitriol for him, kept treating me like a psycho, did not take me seriously and totally screwed up my nursing. The old lady down the hall was insulted that I wasn't inviting her in. She would make surprised comments in the four seconds I would get to be by myself subtly pressuring me to let her in and see that baby.
He hated going outside and he hated the baby bjorn but he hated going in the stroller and I could?not be housebound, so I would take him out and he would throw up all over me and I would wipe it up and come home. These were not easy first months. One day I had him in the bjorn and she asked me how it was going, and I told her we were having trouble nursing and she said, in her sort of deaf-loud voice, "OH, DO YOU HAVE INVERTED NIPPLES?" Um, just exactly like my mean old aunt. My instincts had served me well. How did I answer her? No, they're like corkscrews and the doctor can't figure it out. I punched her. The baby threw up on her. No, no. Nothing. I just said, no, it's more complicated than that and she looked at me like she wanted an explanation. I really, really ignored her from then on.
Her pain at being rejected has now transmuted into full-blown passive aggression. Now every time I see her, she calls the baby a girl or tells me how fat he is. One day, she actually said, "Is he...fat?" And I replied, "No, dear, that's you and your ass." No I didn't! But I wanted to.
Usually my instincts are right. And I know a family cognate when I see one. I saw her the other day and she said, "He looks well fed." And I said, "Oh, that's just your dementia." But I didn't because she wouldn't have remembered.
kim | 23 March, 2005 06:20
I cannot find any photographers these days. I am trying to update my images. I'm definitely having an I Suck moment because I can't figure out why I can't find any! I?would think any up and coming photographer would want?some exta exposure and to find a?prett decent and cerebral makeup artist to work with. Did I mention cute? Anyway.?So I take matters into my own hands and try to work on a makeup idea I have. It looks great but I can't get it right with my shitty little camera. So I try alternate things and then I come across this moment, what I think is a provocative but not explicitly sexual by any means?picture, snap it, crop it and upload to flickr. It gets the most views I've ever gotten instantly and I'm feeling pretty good about myself until I get this comment: Nice to meetcha. Eew. Gross. Did I lay myself out for that? I want to keep working on images and makeup? andif I can't find any photographers, I'll keep working on my own but I'm feeling really discouraged. Usually when I write a negative blog entry I just delete it and try to be positive. But today, my little creative flower is feeling crushed. And in my pictures I'm feeling a little fleshy. I might pull myself off of flickr altogether, but I'll wait until it all dies down. I feel like someone just copped a feel and ran away.
I need a little encouragement today.
Not Taking My Own Advice
kim | 22 March, 2005 21:31
I am so old that I forgot how old I was going to be and when I remembered to ask my husband and he told me, I got queasy.
Is That So Wrong?
kim | 19 March, 2005 22:29
Today I did a wedding for a lovely young couple. I was to do one of the bride's friends afterward at a separate location but that didn't happen. However, one of the bridesmaids wanted her makeup done, which I was happy to do.
I arrived just a tad early to the dream hotel and set up. Everyone was running just a tad late, as they always do at weddings. The bride was splendiforous, she actually got married the day before to her husband, surprising everyone, even the groom. She hired a helicopter to fly over his favorite landmark which is not open at this time, so that they could get married in the place of his dreams. What a sweet woman! I hope, if it doesn't work out for them (ptoo ptoo, we should spit out such bad thoughts) she will consider marrying me.
So I did her bridesmaid who commenced having her hair and nails done in?a different location. You know, I did her makeup and she left without paying me. Which was fine because I knew she was coming back, I just knew it was going to be a problem because: after the bride is done, all the focus is on her. It should be. And this bridesmaid was running slightly late all over the place. So after the bride was done, there I was, ready to get my coat on, and no bridesmaid. I called the bridesmaid in her room, no answer. I knew this was going to happen.?I asked the bride - AS SHE WAS GETTING IN HER DRESS - where the bridesmaid was, she hadn't paid me and she looked slightly irritated. Of course she was. It was all very subtle, but annoying. I'm sure this friend?does shit?like this all the time, but I came early, I did?the makeup, I should?get paid, right? It should be noted at this point that the bride paid me a week in advance thereby getting the?bullshit out?of the way for herself.?
In the?midst, I chucked my jacket, knelt on the floor, helped the bride get in her dress. Then I took pictures with my cameraphone because both batteries?in my camera were dead. I tried to be helpful. I try to go above and beyond for these brides. It's their special day! They need lots of fairy angels around them. Not like they'll remember, but it adds to the overall experience.
Then I got the $$ from the bridesmaid and split.
I think all the tension of waiting got to me because when the?out-of-towners waiting for a cab BEHIND me, cut in front of me and STOLE A CAB?while Mike was on my cell, convincing me to pick up cupcakes on my way home, I started?muttering, "Oh, sorry, in New York we wait on line and don't cut. We don't steal each other's taxi's. We take our bleeping turn. Or maybe in Iowa, it's okay to?steal cabs from Jews?" Slightly yelling now to the doormen who were dressed up?like 19th Century?footmen. Not making one bit of sense. I truly have never met one person from Iowa and have no idea how they feel about Jews. The footmen?didn't hear my?joke so I said it louder, being as vulgar as?I possibly could be,?my?personality twisting immediately because?I was?held prisoner and I thought I was made to look bad by one?woman. One of them kicked out the out-of-towners and held the door open for me. JEWS! I said the punchline to my joke as I entered the cab. "Ha ha, Jews," he laughed as I pressed two dollars into his palm. Hey, look that was nice of me, I?wasn't even staying in that dump.?
I mean, I worked for the money, shouldn't I get paid the money? After waiting, I felt like I was asking for something I didn't deserve. Like I was freeloading. But I'm not playing that game because my kit is heavy and this is not a charity. Right? Like I said, it was all subtle, but I feel like it made me look bad. I'll just try to think good thoughts for that bridesmaid, okay? You do it, too.
kim | 15 March, 2005 18:08
I want to be funny tonight. I want to be as hysterically funny as her and her and her. But I'm not. I've been dealing with a sick kid who keeps getting sicker and sicker with new and different ailments every day. Lattes don't help me, cookies don't help me, lipstick helps a little. Because when you look good, you feel just a smidgen better. And when you've been up all night long - every hour, no joke - and you accountant tells you that you look good, you kind of believe it.
Now, just so you know, I don't mean hysterical in the true Greek meaning. I don't want my womb to wander around. I don't want to be ungrounded, unreasonable or super-sensitive.
But it's sort of too late because the kid was up every hour last night burning up with a fever but refusing to take Tylenol because we tortured him with the re-cherry flavored orange flavored antibiotics. And he was?up the night before. You know what night he wasn't up? The night Mike took him. (He's been working extra hard so I'm picking up some slack). That was the one night.
Now I'm not even able to go to sleep, I'm too wired. Everybody says, "kids get sick," and?they act?like I'm being a?kookoloconut It's just that when the kid gets sick, he really gets sick and I'm up for two weeks in a row, almost straight.
So I may not be that funny tonight, but I am hysterical.
kim | 10 March, 2005 19:58
I got this weird call from a camera guy the other day, a camera guy that had a ubiquitous-enough sounding name that he could have been anyone, for a job in Harlem today. What was the job for, I asked. A corporate client, he answered.
Sounded fine, I got my rate but I was still suspicious. Now I'm a person given to great fits of anxiety but I also have an incredible sixth sense for when something's not quite right. So I looked up the camera man on the web, found a picture ODDLY of him filming a bunch of people walking around barefoot for peace or something like that for?one day and I thought, okay.
I never get up to Harlem. His details were sketchy, he was a vague charachter altogether so I was nervous. When I got uptown I could not believe how incredible the mansions were. We are so living in the wrong part of town, yo. Harlem is beautiful. On the block which we were shooting Vanessa Williams was filming a feature. Further down, just a few doors from the mansion in which we were shooting, there was a fancy Real Estate sign on another gorgeous mansion: this undervalued mansion for sale. I got to my destination, saw the camera man, mostly remembered him and greeted him and went inside.
This mansion was owned by one black woman. The?place had beautiful wood work but was slightly run down. She had stripped the wood with her two hands. Posters and puzzles were framed and populated the walls as art. Matching in basic color but mismatching thoroughly in time period was the furniture?filling up the home with skewed comfort. The rooms rambled and the ceilings towered. There were four floors and the kitchen was in the basement. The whole kitchen spanning the whole basement. When I went upstairs to meet the owner, her room was vast and dark. It was daylight but she sat there almost in silhouette. I asked if there were any lights and she went over to a chair with a table and turned on the light and sat in the chair. There was no where for me to sit and I had to work out of my bags and so I knelt at her feet. This woman owned the whole thing. She scraped together $40,000 with her husband in 1972 and bought it, furnished. He died shortly after and then she singlehandedly, with no tenants, kept that place for herself for the last 30 some years by working as a nanny. Her voice was soft and squeaky. I listened to her whole story and then?about?how she had begged her friends to buy in Harlem but nobody would and now they're renting and the white people are moving in and taking up all the houses. I didn't quite know how to react. Did she know I was white? It's pretty clear. Was she insulting me? It wasn't neutral but it wasn't mean spirited. But she made me feel like The Man. But it was too late, I already fell in love with her. Here she was a quiet goddess of power who I could have passed on the street every day of my life. You just never know how people live. She didn't want makeup, so just I powdered her.
We went downstairs and I sat down on the couch next to the interviewer. It was the only place for me to be out of the frame of the camera. The shoot, it became clearer,?was a testimonial for a questionable bank product that helps senior citizens get some cash out of the equity but puts them in a position to pay back the bank even without income. Sounds like an advanced?home sale to me. But there she was, praising the bank product, saying how it was going to help her travel, give her offspring cash and generally improve her sense of well being.
I wanted to stand up and say, wait a minute! Are you sure about this? Isn't this just screwing you in a different way? You're giving your beloved house away - the one thing in this world that you love! I felt like I was watching Cassandra as she was hanging out with Apollo. No, thanks. I just like you as a friend...
But what do I know about bank products and homes? What do I know about the rights of others? I just sat there, doing my job, not getting involved, waiting for her to shine, on the other side of the camera, sitting next to The Man.
kim | 09 March, 2005 08:26
In New York it's 17 degrees but it feels like 1 degree because of the wind chill factor.?Every morning I have a hot cup of coffee waiting for the kid's babysitter because she shleps a long way to care for my son so? I can work. It's the very least I can do. I digress.
Did you ever see Runaway Train? Probably not, and I never saw the whole thing because I hate the male co-stars: Mr. Yucky and Mr. Irrelevant; but it starts out in a compelling if not completely gross way; especially if you're a germophobe:
Two convicts escape from prison and have to wade through sewage (in?cinema, it is mandatory that?convicts swallow some poop?while they're?busting out of the hooskow); somehow they wash themselves off and then when they are mostly clean, they LUBE THEMSELVES UP WITH VASELINE AND WRAP THEMSELVES IN SARAN WRAP. And then put their black wool clothing and black wool caps on. To keep warm, because it's cold out there. And then I think they meet Rebecca DeMornay and hijack a train or something like that. Tom Cruise (love him, lick him) really should have done much more for her career. He could have. And his first ex-wife, too. Now she's a gambling addict who logs on daily to a satanic gambling website. But anyway. This idea of keeping warm has never, ever left me. What a weird and specific detail. The person I was with at the time; a faceless, shapeless person now packed up taken by the brain cells who snuck out without giving me any notice so I could replace them with other brain cells, or at least interview some, told me why Mr. Yucky and Mr. Irrelevant were doing this as if everybody knows that you slather your body with petroleum jelly and mummify yourself with flexible plastic in order to offer an extra layer of protection.
Once at the Elizabeth Arden Salon in Tucson at La Paloma, had a seaweed wrap in which I was brushed with the "live, activated", I was told, seaweed and then wrapped in a crinkly silver blanket much like what I think runners?use after a race. But then the woman did Reiki on me, detoxified my body and my soul and then rinsed me off with a Vichy shower. I did not enjoy it, to be honest with you. Additionally, she detoxified me so much that I was sick for the next three days while on vacation.
I want to escape this winter. Do I need to ice my body like a cake with mineral oil and then adorn myself with baggies? Should I hijack a train and make the conductor go to the Breakers in Boca? Should I call up Rebecca DeMornay and see if she wants to get a latte and pedicure and we can create a strategy for relaunching her career? I bet she'd take my call.
No, I'll just have to be patient, apply shea butter to my hands and feet, Rose Bud Salve to my lips and curl up with a really great buddy movie set hot in the heat: Thelma and Louise.
kim | 08 March, 2005 23:21
I have a friend who I think the world of; but there are a few specific things that this friend does that make me want to throttle this friend like I'm this friend's alcoholic mom. As in, this friend does silly things and instead of saying to myself, oh! how silly! I get all mad and my eyes bulge out and if I were an alcoholic mom, I would scream accusations at this friend while my temple's vein pulsed and mascara pooled under my eyes not from tears but from sweat of rage exertion. The sort of situation where someone's yelling and someone's cowering in the corner.
I don't have this with anyone else. Just this one friend. And not always, just sometimes. But when it comes up, oh, boy! She's lording over me as clear as, well, an alcoholic mom.
Alcoholic mom never comes out, but she screams at?this friend?in my head! She sounds awful, but she cracks me up, because she overreacts to everything. However, she is rather loud, so I will have to insist that she get her shit together or go to a flop house.
I think I'll keep the friend. Nobody's perfect.
Beyond My Control
kim | 03 March, 2005 14:32
I had breakouts my whole life. Big, red underground ones, blackheads, a constellation of red ones on my forehead and the worst: the kind of milia (melia) that a professional has to take out with a knife. So painful, but thanks to my insurance company, $20. Then I got pregnant. Beside the constant nausea and extreme fatigue, my hair and skin never looked better. If you turned the lights out in a room, you could see a little better if I was in there. I glowed. Even after pregnancy I was like a normal woman. The older the kid gets, though, the further away I am from being doped up on all the hormones that enabled me to be a good host, the more my skin is turning back to shit. I have about five big, red underground things on my chin. My nose is erupting. I have changed my cleanser (true, not my moisturizer but my skin is still pretty dry in places and it's not that heavy to begin with) and I'm masking every other night. Nothing's working. It's not the skin care, it's my hormones. So I will focus dutifully on exercise to see if I can regulate things, and believe it or not, it's been about a month with anything sugary just once a week if that. But sometimes there's not much you can do. I have one last recourse, and that's Idealist by Estee Lauder. I might not be able to whip my skin into shape, but nobody could deny the inimitable Estee.
kim | 25 February, 2005 19:36
This has to be by far the most disturbing of all the reality shows. Even worse than the ones where they show the surgery. I think?it relies on the horror show priniciple: the one in which the viewer puts her hand over her eyes but has to peek between two of her fingers. Flava Flav?posesses the opposite of sex appeal, he offers only the willies in the regions of love. Brigitte Neilsen makes a case against the close up. It's so gross, it's almost taboo. And the worst part, the worst part is that Brigitte keeps calling him "foofie foof" or "floofie floof" - I can't tell - and I walked around all day saying his name. Now that's really disgusting.
Star Sign Scorpio
kim | 22 February, 2005 21:07
Rarely do I discuss astrology, but in my youth it seemed to be a hot topic. When people would ask me about my sign I would reply, "Scorpio" and they always, without fail, lean back like I had just lit the butylene torch in the back of my throat so that a lick of flame darted out and almost burned them. "Whoa," they would exclaim. And further warn?the?imaginary person which they were addressing in the ether, "watch out!"
The temper of the Scorpio is legion as is the sexual prowess, as the sign governs the private parts. And how. But another notable feature of the Scorpio is her jealousy. When people would point this out to me I would beg off - no, no, you see I have 5 houses in Virgo. I'm very mellow and loving. Sort of a pussycat combined with a pushover. Not in the sexual prowess way, either.
But I was lying to myself. It's true, my own temper is pretty hot - okay, white hot - and I've done much to stop destroying friendships and private property and have been successful, I might add. But the fricking jealousy. Oh, boy.
Tonight I am imploding with jealousy, no doubt because of my Scorpio insanity. I would tell you the details, but there are so many I will just end up sounding like a 14 year old whiner. So I will just treat it like anyone else who has to deal with me in a Scorpio tirade. I will ignore it. Tomorrow it will be gone.
Or I'll kill it.
kim | 18 February, 2005 10:00
Yesterday I had one of those days where everything was panicking me. I felt like I was tripping all over myself and there was nothing I could do right. Like I had four legs. The worst part was when a dear friend made a generous gesture and I was worried about its impact and I reacted quickly and I think I?may have sounded??like ingrate. I hope not. I adore her. If you're reading this, you know who you are...I adore you!
In other news: I think I will start modeling. I have never met such not-models as I have in the last two weeks. If they can do it, so can I. Just after I lose these last 20 lbs...
kim | 16 February, 2005 11:50
I am writing a haiku about liquid black eyeliner, I'm not sure it's working:
Liquid pitch bitch/ adolescent inflexible spoiled back-talker/ exposing self doubt
I don't think so, but I will perfect it. Maybe it's so hard to write because liquid liner is so hard to get right. Oh, that rhymes. Completely unintentionally but I will leave it in.
Oh, The Hair
kim | 10 February, 2005 08:25
Today I will get my hair done. I hate getting my hair done: my scalp stings from the chemical potions, my head hurts from the fumes and I get bored in the way you can only get bored being moved from chair to chair for 2 1/2 hours. But in the front of my head, my hair is entirely white and that will not do. Now that my highlights are growing out, there is an inch of white and dark brown followed by a mass of light brown with what looks like pumpkin streaks everywhere. It's called oxidation and it's when your highlights go sour. I think, though, this time I will go back to my normal color and have only some lightness in the front because the look, while it lightens my eyes, is too scattered and I want a little bit of groundedness and solidity in my life, especially on top of my head.
I agree, this is the most fascinating post I've ever written. Perhaps I should explore instead why I smell like salami despite the fact that I haven't eaten it in a very long time? No, best to stick to the hair, I think. For everyone's sake.
Fleshy Sexy Vamp
kim | 09 February, 2005 23:30
I just looked it up on a, um, movie website and that was the name of the character. Now I'm sure this guy didn't make that part of the movie about me, but I was slightly fleshy and slightly sexy and a vamp. So, I'm a type, what can I say?
kim | 09 February, 2005 23:08
Today we went for more routine torture for the kid in the form of blood tests. I'm sure he needed his lead count taken. And something else. I'm sure he did. But, oh, so mean to poke the babies with needles. Will anyone argue with me? I dare you to.
Have I mentioned that the kid is pudgy? 28 lbs, bigger than any kid his age I know, I have a huge bicep to prove it. I don't overfeed, he's just like that. I was like that when I was a kid. So.
The phlebotemist called us in, with her magenta lipliner and nude pink lipstick and her black liquid liner circling her entire eye, and she folded and cirlced and stretched his arms looking for a vein.
"Uh oh," she said. "Where your vein tubby baby?"
As his punishment for being so tubby, he got it in the top of the hand where he screamed for about a minute, "holy shit, this hurts! Take it out! What is wrong with you people? Mommy! Can't you see that she's hurting me? Stop kissing my cheek and make her take it out!" And on and on in the language of crying that only a mother can understand.
Now he has a tiny bruise where the small needle was. I walked out cheering him on, but really my knees almost buckled underneath me. I can't stand it, even when it's for a good reason, when anyone hurts my tubby baby.
Not The Worst, But Not The Best
kim | 09 February, 2005 08:34
I was watching the loathesome movie The English Patient - yes, I said loathesome movie! - the other night and I was thinking: that is the worst burn victim makeup I've ever seen. At any moment it seemed Ralph Fiennes was going to poke a hole in that latex at the cheek and just pull a perforated line down to his chest, rip it off and say, "Wow! It was hot in there! How can anyone act in that?" Plus, Willem Dafoe is barely wearing anything in their scenes together, so I wonder what the temperature was on the set, who they were making comforatble. Willem didn't seem to be cold, right? Ralph must have been BOILING! And I love Juliette Binoche, but there's some French over-acting if I've ever seen it.
Obviously the best parts, and the best makeup parts are between Kristin Scott-Thomas whose makeup is luminous, and the sexy, sweaty Fiennes. I didn't realize how, um, moist, he was during those scenes. And the love, whoo! Who can deny the heat? Amazing.
But I will tell you why I hated the movie: the book was amazing. And it had nothing to do with the movie, as far as I can tell. I read the book for a class whose point was deconstructing Imperialism. We read books like Heart of Darkness, A Passage to India, The Lover and who all knows what else. I was a grade-grubber and it was hard for me to read, so I just didn't. But I did read the English Patient and I think, if I'm not mistaken, at the end of the book, Kip does not join the Army because he can not be part of the Imperialist machine. Which is one of the points of the book, which took an anti-war stance. But this beautiful book, on whose poetry I floated through the subways and select coffee shops was reduced to a sort of ABC miniseries of the week. It was all love story and bad burn makeup and looked so fitting on the small screen when I saw it the other night.
In fairness to the English Patient, I must disclose that the day I saw it, I also saw a short film done by a guy who I dated for a very, very brief period of time. In which he cast himself as a wanna-be cad but he was really just a loser instead. But the worst part of the short, for me, was when he was in a bar, scoping out the chicks he wanted to be caddish with and he showed two types: the thin, blonde type or the brunette kittenish one. WHO WAS FAIRLY PUDGY. Or something like that. My personage had been insulted in a movie. I think he was calling me fat, basically. Sexy but fat. I'm sure it had nothing to do with me, being such a loser in real life that he could not even be a proper cad, but I have to say that it cut me to the quick and I was complaining all the way into the English Patient, and - hey! - even till now. A sad, pathetic, almost 10 years later.
Has it been 10 years? Oh, gosh, what a loser I am. But at least I don't have a sour book-to movie adaptation on my head. There's always that.
I Love New York
kim | 08 February, 2005 14:10
I miss the old New York. The New York of graffiti. The New York with no drinking age. Or buying cigarettes age. I miss scary Times Square. I miss discovering new clothes. I miss looking different than other people or having the choice, at least. I miss when khakis were occasional. I miss $1.50 pizza. Okay, so I just love pizza, it's so good. I miss originality, posers with a purpose, cheap rent. I miss artists and punks. I miss scaring people who aren't from here. I'm a townie and this is my town and it's been polished down to a shiny nub. It's not New York's fault, after all.?I won't blame the victim.?
Don't Let The Door Hit You In The Ass On The Way Out, Boot Camp!
kim | 07 February, 2005 18:47
Who was I kidding? Boot camp is a great idea for people who don't take care of sick children while they are sick. I've still got a little rest coming my way.?Mike let me?sleep in both nights this weekend and then I went back to sleep after the?nanny came in today. I'm totally wiped out. All I can think of is coffee all the time. It's sort of like when?I?was pregnant the first time but I just?didn't know it yet. I assure you I am not pregnant but I fear that when I have a?second?child, or when?said second child ascends?upon me?(not really trying to be ethereal here),?I will never sleep again. The first kid is the priority.?He changed everything. I feel bad for the second one, G-d?willing I should have a second one, because the first one took my life and shook it upside down. Anything he didn't care for went out the door. Like he?said, don't let?the door hit you?in the ass on your way out, Mommy's career, Mommy's sleep, Mommy's exercise, Mommy's?four fricking minutes to herself.?But I wouldn't trade all that stuff for the delicious little boy that he is.
What's Bad For Busisness Is Good For The Blog
kim | 06 February, 2005 08:54
I have seen some crazy shit in the last week. Some I can write about and some I can't. Let's just say I will reserve them until they blow over and then I will go back again and use them to make you laugh. But I'm glad that the entertainment and fashion businesses exist. They are a good holding pen for the crminially insane to find employment and stay off the street. They torture themselves and each other in annoying but essentially harmless ways, where they wreck each other's souls but their bodies and minds stay in tact.?It could?be worse.
Never Quite Prepared Enough
kim | 04 February, 2005 09:42
When I do makeup, I travel heavy. Here's why: the first year I did makeup I believed producers. I was hired by one of the independent film channels to do intros for?a Parker Posey film festival in which they would show all of her flims. The producer told me explicitly: you don't need to bring alot, it's just touch ups. I think he even went so far as to say that she didn't like makeup. I brought a few powders, maybe some concealer, a black pencil, a brown pencil, maybe a blush and MAC's spice pencil. So when I got there I did the makeup for the male host and then I got to Parker and she had no makeup on but wanted a full face of makeup. Not like a cheerleader, she was going on camera and she's an actor and she wanted to look good. I thought I would die right there in Time Cafe, I think we were in Fez, I don't remember - somewhere around Lafayette - but I do remember wanting to die. Parker whipped out some Eight hour cream by Elizabeth Arden and we smushed it all up with the two pencils I had and made it sort of work. She taught me about Eight Hour Cream, but I looked like an unprepared idiot and there was no connection made there. If you remember that, Parker Posey, I am so sorry. I would do such a better job today.
People sometimes tease me because I travel with a suitcase filled with makeup, but you can see why I do.
Recently I had another situation where someone told me not to bring something I needed for a shoot. I listened to her. It's been such a long time, I completely forgot. We made it through, but I have to remember never to trust anyone. In production.
Boot Camp Tomorrow
kim | 31 January, 2005 18:40
Now, I am not a lazy slug. I truly was planning on Boot Camp today. In fact, I had a dream last night in?which my old publisher told? me I was fat throughout the whole dream. It was like he was telling me how I couldn't function in society or something because I was so fat. I woke up really bummed out. I am so ready for boot camp!
But I was bummed out really because I was so tired. Sleep deprivation during the flu. Up every hour while sick. No rest. Then Mike went away for the weekend for his mother's 60th birthday which, nobody would argue,?was totally sweet. Now, since the baby has been sick, we just sit around watching television because what can he do except sit there while his nose runs, moaning? And he cries all the time. I just want to give him a little distraction, poor little thing. As he's felt better, I notice that he dances to whatever snippet of music there is on tv, so I've been trying to watch the music channels. Not like that would be MTV or VH1 between the hours of 8:00 am and 12:00 pm, although there are a few videos in there during TRL, I think. So we turn to another, like "2" channel - MTV2, VH12 or something - and John Mayer is singing to fathers to be good to their daughters. My father was, ah, not good to me, so I start crying. In front of the baby. Like red nose, snot, big huge tears racing down my face to get absorbed by my tshirt and I'm thinking, this is so uncool. Not in front of the kid!
So I wipe myself off, pretend to smile at the baby, turn something else on and then still weep here and there throughout the day.?By nightfall I spiral down into a full-fledged panic attack. I had the brilliant idea to look up the lyrics to which I almost gagged in pain and spent the next few hours trying to get in touch with the few people who know how to talk me down off the ledge. Kyra was the first to return my call and we decided it was lack of sleep. Because that song's been out there and I can even listen to George Michael's song Father Figure without crying in public now, so it's always there, but not to the point where I gag in pain.
That gagging, my friends was just lack of sleep which distorted my thinking beyond reason. The sociopathic mental status of my father notwithstanding, I function incredibly well on a daily basis and married a wonderful man and am raising an amazing son (I don't know how much I actually have to do with that, he seems to just sort of be that way), so when I'm really bummed out about that, there's something off-kilter.
So I slept today when the nanny was here and now I feel like the pain I was feeling last night was another girl's pain, although I totally get it and I have complete compassion for her, it's just not as heated for me as it is for her.
So tomorrow I will get the ass in shape. Today it was sleep boot camp.
Boycott and Destroy Online Poker
kim | 28 January, 2005 12:49
Death to Texas Hold 'em Poker who keeps blog spamming my site. I will notify the FCC or every news station I can. Is it a Federal offense? No, but if someone was peeing all over your house wouldn't you get mad, too?
Coming Right Up!
kim | 26 January, 2005 20:10
Snot update: now Mike has the cold, too. Thank you AGAIN Germboree.
Today a girlfriend of mine called and asked me now that the kid is a year am I gearing up to have the next one and I said, oh sure! Things are great! Mike gets home at 4:00 every afternoon, we're about to buy a classic 7 on CPW, I've lost all the baby weight plus 10 lbs., the kid sleeps through the night and is totally self-sufficient and I've finished my novel and it's coming out tomorrow.
I think we'll be waiting a little, tiny bit longer.
Assuming The Position
kim | 25 January, 2005 13:34
I tried to sleep while the nanny was here, I really did. I've been up, hourly, every night since Thursday night and my body is now in complete defense mode. When I was a very new mother, I would cry at the slightest thing large or small and a woman I know reminded me that sleep deprivation is a torture technique in war interrogation rooms. Who knows if that is really true because she was a lying sack of shit who had a mouth entirely filled with caps I think because her own teeth rotted out because of the copious amounts of lying that came out of her rotten mouth hole. But I'm not bitter.
But you could imagine if I was bitter, because I am so tired. Not to mention I've been struggling with the same exact thing that the kid is struggling with. Yesterday the doctor diagnosed us basically with mucous. So I?basically am suffering from snot. Yesterday and the whole weekend me and the kid had snot with a fever, but now it's just snot. And how.
So I can't breathe, I can't sleep, he can't sleep, everybody's miserable. Happy trails!
I Feel So Dirty
kim | 20 January, 2005 19:30
I guess being a post-modern feminist is someone who gets paid as equally to a man but who is also comfortable posing nude or watching porn? I'm so confused about what is degrading and what is participation and what is naturally titillating and what is informed and what is unwitting self-exploitation?under the?guise of empowerment.
We did a shoot today and I got really, er, involved. I made suggestions and contributed to photographs that really brought out the sexuality of the subject, her fragility and her exhibionistic streak but I don't know if I'm all for it. But the photos look awesome.
So the question is: can I fight the medium? Obviously not. But when I reflect it upon itself am I satirizing or am I contributing to the problem of the degredation of women? That's a post modern question that I've not yet heard the answer to.
So I'm ashamed of myself. I've got to lay down.
Pretty or Pretty Freezing?
kim | 19 January, 2005 18:51
This morning I went out to do a little beauty writing just for two hours. I hate leaving the kid, I hate leaving him on his birthday and I especially hate leaving him as his face is contorted in fear, tears rolling down his face because he doesn't want me to leave. That feels just terrific. But women everywhere need to know what the best products are, and I need to help them out with that.
But it's really cold outside. Who wants to go to work when it's so cold? I know that all the people where I was going to write were going to be turned out. If not that turned out, then just young, which accounts for so much more than I formerly gave credit. Not Vogue turned out, but downtown hipster kind of thing.
I, however, like to be comfortable. If I could walk around in my pyjamas all day long I would. But since I am in said profession, I have to look a little like something. And, as I've mentioned many times before, I'm not quite into my pre-baby clothes although I do have a few things to wear so I'm looking so-so these days and thank G-d, my husband's still into me. But my feet gotta be warm or the deal's off. When I worked at Saks, I had a shoe guy named George on the fourth floor, who was so sweet that I liked to work with him.?He sold me these Italian winter boots that are much more fashionable than?any other winter boots I've ever had but they're still a little, well, comfy looking.
And then I noticed all these chicks and women outside who really know how to put it together even when it's cold. Like a fitted white down jacket with a white pom-pom hat, brown slash front pants tucked into thoseMarc Jacobs-like?furry boots - you know, the ones with the wedge heel and the cross-tie and the fur peeking out? So cute! Which I could totally take a cue from. But there was another girl with a skirt, an above-the-knee coat and heels with no stockings, no gloves, no hat her only accessory a cell phone. Every inch of her was beet red, but she had really long brown hair and fine features. And, apparently, self-heating skin, which I would love to purchase. Because I would love to be that cute walking around, but I will never be because I value my limbs way too much.
New Word: Moronics
kim | 15 January, 2005 08:08
If you have to repeat yourself continuously and repeatedly or if you are dealing with just plain old morons and you are so fricking tired of it, you can say to yourself in your head, "Hey! Stop with the moronics, huh?"
Anyone Know a Good Hairstylist? Or, unbelievable but so typical.
kim | 12 January, 2005 18:52
So at 3:50 pm, after frantically calling the hair person for two days, I get in touch with her - not she returns my phone call - and she says, "so, um,?is this for pay?"
And I said, "at ten of four the day before the shoot? No, we discussed this before. It's for everyone's portfolios." Long silence. "Do you not want to do it?"
"Um, yeah, maybe I could ask around here (at the unnammed but really wanting to name the hairstyling joint where she works)?and see if?anyone is interested.
I hung up on her while I was saying no thanks. Like, I hung up on myself being polite. Which is better than cursing at her.
When I was about 16 I didn't show up for a?babysitting?gig which totally screwed the mother. I'm sure. I wonder how much money I cost her or what I put in jeapordy for her. When I got older, especially now that I'm a mom and I had a nanny lie to me and tell me that her mother died and she was not coming back to work (I found out she probably even made up her husband and three children), I felt like I served my karmic debt.
I wonder what hairstylist I screwed over in a former life that I have to deal with these flakes? I'm doing hair tomorrow. So there.?
If I Have To
kim | 07 January, 2005 11:11
Since being back from vacation I admit I have pretty much been in the house the whole week. I'm a homebody, what can I say? I like pajamas. I like decaf. I like snuggling. I'm not into being rained or sleeted upon. I don't like to smell bad but if that's incidental, then what can be done? Where I was on vacation it was 70 degrees and perfectly dry. I was turning into a nail file, but the atmosphere was nice.
Today we start a new gym class today so I need to see my mommy friends. Plus, I feel very positive about the viewership of the website and I am in the process of wrangling some tv spots, so I need to continue to lose weight and think about looking good. So today I blew my hair straight and I'm about to put some makeup on because the kid's asleep.
I know I'll get back in the groove, but really, if I didn't have to, I wouldn't. I would sit in bed, order up macro platters and cookies, tickle my kid and flip the channel.
...A Million Times Sorry
kim | 06 January, 2005 20:47
All I can do is apologize for my technical ineptness. I am just a makeup artist and a writer and a mother and an actor, people. I am no technoperson. Just ask Adam and Ray. I call them all the time. They did design a fairly easily updatable website, but I am still having problems:
1. Imaging Software - Photoshop, I hear is like $650 US. I will try gimp, which is free but takes a very long time to download. Scared. But I need it to size images for the site or else it will look like a crazy patchwork.
2. Blog frigging Spam? - To the owners of that disgusting poker website, whose server is based in hell, I am sending you a bill for 2 hours of my time for first speaking to Ray, then Adam, then figuring the whole thing out, then doing it. That will be $150. If I get porn blog spam, then I am seriously going to kick some ass.
3. Adam -?I know you're busy, but you promised to?finish my spotlight page?by early next week, so please, okay?
4. Did I mention I'm tired? Now that the kid is walking I have less time than ever. That impedes my learning.
So be patient with me, and I think the returns will be great. In just a few more days. And since Ray and Adam never read this, I can say whatever I want. Hee hee.
kim | 06 January, 2005 20:45
Did you know that when you send an evite, that everyone can see that a recipient viewed it? So why, then do people not respond? I think if they don't respond soon, I'll just take them off the evite. You can edit it, you know.
Just joking. But I won't order a big enough cake, that's for sure.
New Year's Resolution
kim | 03 January, 2005 16:00
I've been reading a few blogs here and there and I think I'm supposed to inspire you with a list of goals for the new year. I'm lucky to be Jewish because I get two new yearses but no matter how much or how hard I resolve, I still can't seem to clear the back fat off my list. Because it's still on my back. Because the chocolate is still in my mouth. Are you gettting the picture?
It's just harder now that I have the kid. Not that motherhood automatically means you gain weight. but since I did gain weight, it's hard to get it off and it's hard to eat right because I have the exhaustion and the bad habits from all those months of stuffing my cake hole with anything that would fit into it. My son, when he gets older, will probably love tomatoes and every combination thereof, cheeseburgers, chocolate milkshakes and dumplings. Or maybe he will hate them because he ate them all almost every day in that order when he was baking in my oven. Oh, and ice cream.
The reason why I am writing this entry is because I am eating ice cream right now. The "no sugar added" kind, but that's sort of like "reduced addictive" heroin. Dumb.
So how will I do this? I'm not sure. I've really tried everything on the block but I have faith that The Universe will restore my willingness not to eat every time I am tired or frustrated.
Maybe I'll donate the value of a year's worth of ice cream to the relief efforts going on in South Asia? There's something that might work.
And while we're on that subject, can you take a moment of silence now to honor the dead? And the living who might never see their dead get buried?
Happy New Year. And let's count (and sometimes kiss) all of our blessings.
Pizza Can Be Evil
kim | 30 December, 2004 00:37
Tonight, on our vacation, I agreed to go to out for pizza with my husband and my child so that my husband could see an old friend he used to be a camp counselor with. At a Y camp. Isn't that cute that he was a counselor? I just love him.
So I agreed, of course, heartily, not knowing what laid waiting for me.
First of all, prior to dinner, I was only given 45 minutes for my annual Target shopping trip, which was completely unfair although I did score the last Sonia Kashuk limited edition travel brush set (the best bargain in brushes in the whole world because they are such amazing quality). Although I?bought $256 worth of merchandise, I did put half the stuff I pulled off the shelves back? -?there would have been so much more if I wasn't being frugal and if I hadn't been given such little time. It's only once a year, though. They have such amazing stuff. But I digress...
Being from New York I thought the pizza joint was going to be a pizza joint. I don't have to tell you if you're from New York what a pizza joint is like but if you're not, I'll just say that they're fairly subdued, dark, peaceful. A little yelling behind the counter, but it's just banter.
Not this place. It was part pizza parlor, part airplane hangar cafeteria, part penny arcade, part insane asylum. They made their frozen tv-dinner tasting pizza right after you ordered it but it took like a half hour for them to call your number. Frozen pizza takes about 12 minutes, if memory serves me correctly. There were long tables, like three or four times the size of regular cafeteria tables and randomly there were balloons set up on some tables and I realized that this is a big birthday party joint and two are happening this evening which brought the din up to a loud, cackling?roar.?Of?nine year old girls.?To make matters more overstimulating, in the back are all the crazy video games screaming with their lights and their maniacal digital beeping, chortling and hooting, "play me! NO me! NO, MEEEEEEEE!!!" And then every once in a while, the sweaty manager would call out your number to tell you that your terrible pizza was ready and me and the kid would automatically start and grab each other tighter because it was so loud. Sort of like that Alfred Molina scene in "Boogie Nights" with the little Asian boy throwing snaps on the floor.
Not to mention the people in there who looked mostly like if they weren't suffering from a genetic disorder then they were very close to a drug or alcohol bottom. Glassy eyed,?angry and staring at my Jewy ass.
I've been trying to figure out a place to throw the kid his first birthday party. All my friends are going whole hog with theirs but I was very against that until tonight. I think I'll give him something small but elegant. I won't just throw a bunch of pizzas at him.
To cope, I ate 4 slices with pepperoni. I am disgusting.
All That Is Pink Glitter Is Not Gold
kim | 18 December, 2004 07:56
Yesterday was the last day of my freelance job and I was dragging my butt around my house trying to get out by 4:45 am. I had no energy left for glamour and I actually felt like I might ruin my career by deciding to call in sick. My back still hurts this morning from simply being up too long for too long.
So I threw on beige khakis, a black shirt and a jean jacket but dashed two pots of sparkles (one pink, one multi-colored holographic) in my makeup bag right before I left. When I got in, I commenced applying sparkles the way I do: three times the legal limit allowed, especially at 5:00 am. Not because I?m looking for a reaction, I just way I like to wear sparkles that way.
Wow, the reaction of my colleagues and co-workers! True, I was working in a very conservative environment and I was a study in opposites, shlubby clothes and disco eyes, but I so didn?t hear the end of it all morning. I got a little paranoid about my choice until I realized while the comments sounded judgmental, those commenting were slightly admiring of my willingness to possess the abandon to behave like a rebellious 12 year-old in a conservative workplace. And then I realized I was behaving like a rebellious 12 year-old in the workplace, which I had done a pretty good job of not doing for 9 previous days. Luckily, the woman I was filling in for is a complete crack pot, so what are a few pink sparkles to a complete sea of insanity perhaps they rationalized. But I learned that I have to watch myself carefully when I?m too tired and stick to the script in the play I am currently in. It just makes it nicer for everyone. And then I might get asked back.
A Thimble Filled with Couth
kim | 16 December, 2004 13:19
Me, to the cab driver: Your cab is so clean!
Cab Driver (in a loud, quick monotone): Thank you, Miss!
Me: Not smelly at all!
Cab Driver (in a loud, quick?monotone): Thank you, Miss!
I really did mean it as a compliment, but it so came out the wrong way.
Oh, I forgot
kim | 10 December, 2004 11:29
Today, at the place where I am freelancing, I was talking to someone about the inauguration - which somehow got looped into a completely unrelated drama and I realized that we were?facing four more years of the military industrial complex and?it completely took me by surprise. Like waking up from a bad dream (which I actually did this morning) and realizing it was not only a dream (which it was this morning).
I am so busy but?I will not be complacent. That's how this whole thing happened in the first place. Checking out is not pretty.?
We Are Beautiful In Every Single Way, Kevin Bacon Ignoring Us Won't Bring Us Down
kim | 05 December, 2004 00:26
Kevin Bacon did not notice my new light dusty pink corduroy jeans that I got at Club Monaco. I could have worn my clown pants after all. He didn?t notice that I was not pregnant anymore and he didn?t even really remember me, if you want to know the truth.
But that?s not half as sad as the Emmy I saw sitting in the corner amongst shells camera cases and the peels of extra cables by the audio table. The d.p., the camera guy, carries it around with all of his equipment and stands it up in the middle of the production rubbish to, I guess, show that he?s amazing.
For a five minute interview that will air on the Today show, I don?t think you have to lug around your credentials like that.
Let that be a lesson to all of us.
kim | 02 December, 2004 13:24
Part of my relaunch strategy is to look good. I previously didn't care much, but I realized that if I had never read Anna Karenina before, if the cover?was tattered torn, I might not want to. I got my hair done (and it looks fabulous, please go see Kersti at Amour de Hair, she's awesome!) and, of course, I can do my own makeup. But my problem now is that I am in between clothes. Have I mentioned this before? My maternity clothes and my husband's clothes are too large but my old clothes are just too tight. I can squeeze into them but I sort of look like I've been doing a cross country survey of truck stop diners and fast food restaurants. You know, a little bulge-y. That's not a word. Anyway, the problem is that tomorrow I am working with the surprisingly more foxy in real life Kevin Bacon and I want to look hot. I mean, I'm married, he's married, we both have kids but I did his makeup when I was pregnant a couple of times (once during the blackout, so stinky and pregnant) and I will never bounce back as well as Kyra Sedgewick (we're at different starting points to begin with - I saw her in a restaurant once and she lit up the entire corner in which she was sitting) but still, I want to look good. You would, too.
So today I went out to do some errands and I decided to look good, but there's not that much and it's all black so I had to wear a pair of pants my friend Deb gave me when I got pregnant. Which I plan to give back if we?ever see each other again because our schedules are so wacky.?They are really nice pants, but don't sit around the waist anymore unless you're pregnant, so I spent my time outside lifting up my jacket and my sweater and wrapping the waistband around my underwear as if it were an impromptu belt. Very elegant. I really need to go get a pair of pants after kid gets up from his nap. I would not be able to withstand the humiliation of doing Kevin Bacon's makeup in clown pants.
kim | 29 November, 2004 19:47
You know what's not pretty? An undercooked turkey that gets hijacked and re-cooked for 3 hours by comittee. Just saying. Not blaming.
'Cause I'm a Woman, W.O.M.A.N.
kim | 13 November, 2004 18:40
I can bring home the turkey bacon, fry it up in a pan, clean the pan, mop the floor, straighten up the house, wash all the kid's bottles, write up notes from the business meeting, work on my novel, dye my roots...and never let you forget you're a man. 'Cause I'm totally burned out...
Let's Talk About Sex Baby
kim | 10 November, 2004 08:43
Do you think the reason why men talk so much about sex in the workplace is because it's such a sterile environment, they want to bring some humanity to the gray-cubicleness that is their lives? Or is it their shame? Or is it because they want me to punch them in the teeth?
The jury's still out.
kim | 05 November, 2004 04:48
Do you want the sponges wet or not wet? Medium wet? It changes every day.
I do not want to party with you. I want to do your makeup. I am not a prostitute at the Bunny Ranch.
kim | 04 November, 2004 08:46
I graduated from college.? It took me a few more years than most but I did it with honors as well as a little thing called magna cum laude.
Today I did someone's makeup who doesn't like it when makeup artists don't follow the pecking order of the studio. Where freebies are concerned, the complainant believes it's talent, producers and then crew. If you want some freebies first, then go back to college, he suggested, and become a producer! You know what I mean?
Those stupid makeup artists! I wish they would stay in their places.
Next: collected comments made to me about "Zionists" with a completely straight face
kim | 03 November, 2004 10:24
Now that George Bush seems to have been re-elected, if you thought our rights are being thinned out, just wait for the next four years!
I am predicting that the government will be issuing?new fashions within a year.?Anna Wintour is going?to have a?field day -? "Burkas: the New Poncho!"
Really, girls,?let's get off our asses.?
*Thanks, Todd Bonim!
kim | 01 November, 2004 19:39
A pre-l'il kim video I saw on late night something some time in the early '80's once, when my memory was functioning:
We like the cars, the cars that go boom
I'm Tigre, I'm Bunny and we like the boom
Please get it out of my head. I failed algebra four times and finally passed with a 66. Why?
If Bush Wins
kim | 01 November, 2004 16:30
I think I will send him a letter every week that looks something like this:
I understand, respect and agree with your deep regard for life. And although I am grateful that I have never had to make the harrowing decision whether to abort an unwanted pregnancy, I request that you cease trying to overturn the Supreme Court decision that enables a woman to do so. If the life of a fetus is so sacred, the life of the woman carrying it must be more sacred, because she has created and is able to sustain that life. Yet in our society, women are not only not revered, they are not even equal to men. If you are completely intent on revoking Choice, I would submit that it's only fair to level the playing field by?restoring or imparting these rights to women:
Higher pay for single mothers and mothers in general.
Prolonging maternity leave under the Family Leave and Medical Act with a higher pay scale.
Offering pay to women who stop working and raise families or care for the elderly or sick their own or the families of others for free.
Offer free daycare.
Give equal pay for equal work. Already.
Ridding the shelves of police stations throughout the nation of the hundreds of thousands of rape kits that don't ever go to DNA testing labs due to "lack of funding."
Either through example or through laws, create a society where women don't feel afraid to walk around at night or in their homes. Offer federally funded self defense classes.
Mandate classes for men and boys that teach respect, responsibility and reciprocity.
Actually don't leave any child behind.
If that sounds like a tall order, then why don't you work on that first. When we actually have a right to choose in our society instead of being shoehorned into exhaustion and poverty and fear, then maybe we will make different choices. In the meantime, trying to take our right to choose is proof that our society does not belive in our sacredness.
All That Sparkles Keeps Me Broke
kim | 01 November, 2004 09:13
When I walk into a drug store, it's impossible for me not to survey all the pink lipglosses. My diaphragm tightens?and I have to stay my hand not to pick them all up and purchase them. It seems such an innocuous habit, but a few years ago my husband pointed out how much money I was wasting.
"How many sparkly pink?lipglosses do you need," he asked.
Any woman knows the answer is, "all of them. Including the ones that haven't come out yet."
But if you add all of them up, the total could go to more lasting things like a contribution to my retirement account, a gorgeous pair of shoes or an investment in my business. It's actually better for me in the long run. I'm not a?panting dog -?I can resist the pull of a small pink tube. I will keep telling myself that.
I Need an Agent
kim | 27 October, 2004 13:31
When I go to work, I arrive on time. I usually like to come early. This practice was challenging while in my pregnancy and took a little finessing once the kid came because, man are they unpredictable! But generally when I go to work I'm cheerful or when bitter at least I make people laugh.
I don't, however, come to work two months late and when my employer calls me to see where I am say, "I'm coming. I've got to go. I'm busy,"?and act like they are rude for expecting me to hold up to my end of our verbal contract. These same employers will often behave that way when I am looking for the?5 overdue checks they owe me,?some?up to two months overdue.?Not to even mention some people with whom you?may have signed a contract to share profits of a thing you might be selling.
I am not naming any names. Yet. But so help me, if I do not get paid in a week, I will expose these rats for who they are and the seven people who read this blog will be outraged!