Celebrities

Cat Eyes ¹

For the last three years, I’ve been meaning to figure out how to copy Lauren Conrad’s signature wing-tipped eyeliner.

Yup. Three long years. I just keep getting distracted with those pesky new episodes of Extreme Couponing and my latest habit of shopping for tasteful fishnet stalkings online.

(Yes, there is such a thing as tasteful fishnets.)

Being that I’ve finally conquered the Extreme Couponing anthologies, I actually got around to picking up some black liquid eyeliner at Target over the weekend. I rushed home, excited to experiment with the oh-so-vintage cat eye look. While I don’t have any professional training in makeup application, I consider myself fairly skilled when it comes to cosmetics. I can successfully apply my own false eyelashes, after all–slapping on some liquid cat eyes should be a breeze, right?

Wrong.

Oh so very wrong.

Things quickly went from easy breezy beautiful cat-eye girl to Katrina looks like she had permanent eyeliner tattooed on her by a six-year-old child with Tourette’s syndrome who happened to be high on Pixie Stix at the time.

Regrettably, I forgot to snap a photo.

Thank heaven for YouTube makeup tutorials. After taking in a few instructional videos, I was ready to try again. This time? The results were semi-successful! I’m on day 3 of the cat-eye experiment and have grown more and more skilled with each application. My confidence has increased so much, I’ve decided to provide my own little tutorial. Without further ado…

Yep. “makeupthat” is definitely a word.

Step 1: Get some liquid eyeliner

I picked up this stuff from Target. It’s the only liquid eyeliner I’ve ever purchased and/or used, so I have no idea how it performs compared to other brands. Target was about to close, and Scott was yelling at me for “going on another Target bender and buying too many hats”, so I just grabbed the first eyeliner I saw and ran to the checkout.

(To my credit, the hat I selected this time is beyond adorable…no matter what Scott says.)

Step 2: Apply the “wings”

Clearly, I’m still a bit skeptical…

Using the liquid liner–and a very light hand–draw lines from the corners of your eyes up towards your eyebrow. You can make them short for an everyday look, or longer for a bit more drama. They key is to make them thin and precise, and most importantly, even on both sides. (That’s key in not looking like a crazy person.) Don’t worry if they aren’t super dark — you can go over them later.

Step 3: Create the rest of your outline

Are you SURE I’m not going to look cray-cray?

Draw a line from the center of your “wing” down to the center of your eyelid. This will be the outline for your cat-eye.

Step 4: Fill in the shape

Fill in the area you just created. Use a few coats if necessary to achieve a dark, jet black color. (I forgot to take a photo of this step as I was too excited that I was starting to look less creepy/delusional.)

Step 5: Line the rest of your eye

Almost done…

From the center of your eyelid, draw a thin line to the inside corner of your eye. I also did a very subtle line on the lower outside corner of my peepers.

6. Apply mascara, and Instagram the ‘ish out of your fab new look!

Please excuse the random pose with the cherry. It was the only way I could think of celebrating the fact that I could maybe pass for Lauren Conrad’s socially awkward second cousin thrice removed with my new eyeliner.

(Fine…I may have also been trying to secure my free trip to Australia by sharing deceptively flattering photos of me eating healthy snacks. But it’s almost the same thing.)

A few extra tips that may or may not prove helpful:

If the cat eyes aren’t dark enough, you can go over them with regular eyeliner. Just avoid the edges so you don’t muddle the crisp, wing shape you’ve so carefully created with the liquid stuff.
A Q-Tip dabbed in makeup remover is a great way to fix errors and smooth out the shape of your cat eye.
If your husband rolls his eyes, he’s probably just jealous of your snazzy new look. Consider asking him if he would like cat-eye makeup, too.

Once again, I am not a cosmetologist or expert in any way, shape or form. I essentially have no idea what I’m doing other than the few tricks I’ve learned from experience and a smattering of totally narcissistic YouTube clips. Translation? I cannot, under any circumstances, guarantee that you will not look mentally unstable at the end of my six-step process.

But if you do, at least you can blame your crazy eyes on my blog…?

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Girls Weekend ⁴

It wasn’t easy, but I somehow managed to drag myself from the 70 degree Washington weather back to the snow-covered prairies of ‘Sota. I’m always sad to leave Seattle, yet knowing these two are waiting patiently back home makes returning to the Midwest a little bit easier.

One of the many “biscuit pics” Scott sent me when I inquired as to how he was spending his day.

When I asked Scott if he had any plans to get out of bed and actually accomplish anything that day, his response was brief, yet purposeful.

“Can’t. Too busy building this snuggle fort.”

I decided it best to leave Scott and Jolie alone so they might get all the excess snuggling out of their systems while I was away. As someone who spent the week Scott was gone watching countless hours of reality television and eating nothing but canned soup, I’m really in no place to judge. Besides, he would eventually get hungry and rise from bed to eat steak and watch football or something, right?

(Isn’t that what men do while their wives are away? Eat steak and watch football?)

(Scott just reminded me football season ended a few months ago.)

(But it’s still totally steak season, right?)

All inaccurate sports references aside, you get the idea. I knew Scott would eventually come up for air. And when he did, he’d fill his time with all the macho activities he didn’t have the opportunity to do while I was home nagging him to organize his sweatpants drawer.

Apparently, I thought wrong.

Very wrong.

While in the midst of a friend’s housewarming party, I received the following text.

Huh?

Naturally some additional explanation was necessary. I instantly responded with a very confused “Say what????”

*Whatch means Whatcha…obviously.

In case the irony of this situation has somehow evaded you, allow me to spell it out.

When left home alone for an entire weekend of bachelor shenanigans, Scott decided to spend it cuddling on the couch with a chihuahua while watching Girls on HBO.

(Judging by the abundance of pastries I returned home to, I suspect there was also some baking involved. No steak…but plenty of baking.)

While slightly jealous that Scott had finished Season 2 of Girls without me, the housewarming party was still far more exciting. I tossed the phone in my purse and got back to the very important business of sipping Chelada with my favorite Seattle peeps.

A few hours later, I noticed several missed texts from Scott on my iPhone.

Finally, I responded.

Scott’s right. He’s totally an Adam.

If Adam sat around with a purse dog watching girly TV shows all weekend, that is.

So basically, he’s an Elijah.

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Over on the Facebook page, I promised I would write about the story behind this photo today.

We almost died…and that is NOT an exaggeration.

Alright…maybe it’s a bit of an exaggeration. Still, the great Iowa blizzard transformed our seven-hour road tripped into a thirteen hour death ~~march~~ drive. The good news is that all of us (including out measly two-wheel drive Toyota) survived the journey. The bad news is that we didn’t get to bed until 2:00 am.

Also? I had to wake up extra early to teach a group exercise class before work.

This is my long-winded, extremely whiney way of saying that you’re going to have to wait until tomorrow to hear about our slip n’ slide snow driving misadventure. I realize that this means I’m breaking my Facebook promise, and I apologize. Please understand that there is simply not enough coffee in the world to write about our Donner Party-esque drive home from Omaha last night.

As a minor compensation, I’m going to talk about something that’s been on my mind for a while as of late.

(The valuable life lesson I learned at last month’s Lady Gaga concert.)

During her performance, Mother Monster said two things that left a lasting impression on me. The first was a simple thank you to all of us in the audience. She was well aware the majority of us were humble middle class folk, who probably had to wake up early the next day and report to work. She acknowledged that tickets to her performance were crazy expensive, and expressed sincere gratitude that we had spent our hard-earned money to come see her live. Her message was so thoughtful and heartfelt…it was surprisingly refreshing to witness a worldwide celebrity taking note of the fact that $200 for a few hours of entertainment is significant financial investment.

Her second sentiment resonated with me on an even deeper level. In her own, bizarre and artistically poetic words, she encouraged everyone in attendance to simply be themselves. She challenged us not to worry what others would think, not to seek acceptance or popularity…not to follow the crowd. Sure, not everyone’s going to “get” you, like you, or want to be your friend, but who really cares? At the end of your life, embracing who you are is exponentially more important.

It’s a simple message–possibly even a bit cliché. Yet something about hearing it from a girl who had the cahones to wear a dress made of meat to the VMAs made it all the more powerful to me. Specifically in regards to blogging.

While I would argue I’m pretty good at being true to myself, I do tend to worry what others think on a nearly constant basis. Writing a public blog is essentially asking for scrutiny and criticism–something that can be extremely frightening. I often times find myself not wanting people to judge or think less of me based on the content I choose to publish. It is for this reason that I significantly filter the things I share on this blog.

(Yes…believe it or not, this is the toned down version of me. I like to think of it as “controlling the crazy”.)

As a blogger (writer? artist? creative spirit?) censorship feels inherently wrong. Yet risking relationships, public opinion and possibly my future doesn’t always seem worth it. Then again, would these things even be in jeopardy if I said “who cares?” and freely posted whatever I wanted? Am I being paranoid? Realistic? Overly cautious? Logical?

More often than not, I wish I could find the courage to be the Lady Gaga of blogging. Type whatever I want (while obviously wearing the meat dress) without thinking twice about the consequences. Miss Gaga has certainly experienced a great deal of success by being true to herself (and not caring whether people approve), but is she an exception to the rule? Does being blatantly honest, completely transparent, and just a little bit crazy always work out so well?

I’m curious to hear your thoughts. How do you filter yourself online? Do you have a policy for blogging or social media? Am I being somewhat rational, or do I need to stop being a drag and just bec a queen, already?

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Bad Hathaway day ⁸

I’ll be the first to admit that my hair takes a significant amount of work to look presentable. Need proof? When I let it air dry, this happens:

Scott says I have “80s hair”. I’d argue my natural texture is much more “mentally unstable street-walker.”

Because my ‘do can tend to be a bit unruly, I’ve recently been toying with the idea of chopping it all off and sporting a low-maintenance pixie cut. I decided to bring up the concept to my good friend Kayla, who also happens to be an amazingly talented hairstylist.

Me: So…I think I kind of want to say ‘screw it’ and just get a pixie cut.

Kayla: But you’re growing it out?! We’ve finally got your hair healthy, again!

Me: I know…maybe after I grow it out, though? Do you think it would look OK on me?

Kayla: Hmmmm….

Me: I had my hair cut like that in fourth grade…?

Kayla: Honestly, I’m having a really hard time picturing it…which probably isn’t a good sign. I’m not sure it would work on you.

I let out a sigh, realizing that Kayla was probably right. While taming my naturally wiry mane into something attractive does take some extra effort — it would most likely look way better than chopping it all off a la Miley or Pink.

This brings me to last Saturday night. My friend David and I were recording Episode 8 of our podcast. (Which drops today! You can listen here.) We had planned to talk about the Oscars…but it really just ended up being five minutes of me, complaining about Anne Hathaway. (Seriously…why is she so annoying? My friend Meredith recently wrote a spot-on article examining this question.)

At the end of our recording session, I realized I may have taken things a little too far.

Me: Hey…I hope it didn’t come across like I just wanted to bash Anne Hathaway for the entire episode.

David: Nah, I think it was fine. It was actually kind of funny

Me: Okay…cool.

David: Speaking of which, you kind of look a little like Anne Hathaway right now.

Me: Huh?

David: Your hair…you have it up, right? It kind of looks like Anne’s pixie cut.

Me: Oh my gosh, you’re totally right! Yeah, I have it in a bun. But let’s call it what it is…I don’t really look like Anne. I look more like Anne’s socially awkward, homely cousin that nobody talks about.

David: Ha! Let me take a screenshot.

Now can you picture it?

Me: It’s funny…I’ve actually been thinking about cutting my hair like this, but my friend Kayla warned me that it probably wasn’t the most flattering style for my bone structure.

David: Yeah…I think she’s probably right. No offense, but I think you look best with long hair.

Me: None taken! Deep down, I’ve always known my nose was too big to pull off the pixie.

********

Shortly after ending our Skype convo, I changed into my PJs for a night of relaxation with some truffle oil popcorn and a Netflix documentary. Naturally, I also took the opportunity to take my hair down.

And just like that, I went from Anne Hathaway’s fugly cousin, to the lovechild of Farrah Fawcett and Helena Bonham Carter.