You remember that old Plymouth we just couldn’t fix?

I am a volcano. I keep the pressure of molten rock under my surface until a seismic event of various magnitudes causes it to rupture forth in a wave of heat and ash. My temper can blot out the sun. It can turn summer into winter, yadda yadda yadda. Metamorphic er, metaphorically speaking?

Jules Tavernier Tutt'Art@

That’s one trait that I wish I didn’t have. I wish I was one of those people who could utilize healthy outlets for all the shit life hands them instead of bottling it up and causing many Pompeii-esque catastrophes in both my personal and professional lives. Time is of the essence in these situations and most of the time I can physically remove myself from the stressor, but in cases where I cannot… BLAMO!

When I took an introductory psychology course in university, I remember that one of the modules made mention of a book called WHY ZEBRAS DON’T GET ULCERS. It touches on the body’s fight or flight responses as well as explaining the differences between how certain species respond to high stress environments and how we humans have the wonderful added cognitive power to PERCEIVE AND WORRY RELENTLESSLY ABOUT EVERYTHING until we make ourselves sick and die.

You’d think it would be the other way around. Us, so high on the food chain vs them, our herbivorous prey. I never thought I’d be jealous of a grazing land mammal, but I really am!

I often wonder why I handle things so poorly compared to others I know. I also stress out over really dumb things. I remember when I was 7 I tearfully confided to my uncle after watching The Simpson’s episode about Homer having a heart attack that I was pretty sure that my heart was also gonna explode right outta me because I was having those good ol’ benign childhood growing pains. A 7 year old otherwise healthy girl should not even have organ malfunction on her radar. At least NOW as an adult my anxieties and worrisome thoughts make a bit more sense and are way more valid.


I think my next tattoo is gonna be an elaborate cursive piece that says “Don’t sweat the small stuff”. I’m also gonna situate it on my ass, which isn’t small by any means, but is certainly sweaty. I think everyone should have at least one funny tattoo on their posterior to brighten the day of the medical personnel or morticians that will one day be privy to view it.

Maybe She’s Born With It, But Probably Not…

If I come close to having any sort of addiction, it’s definitely for cosmetics. I LOVE makeup! I love skincare, and I love all the gimmicky products that fall in between. I often placate myself after looking at my literal HOARD of beauty supplies by checking out other women’s massive accumulations and quietly telling myself that it’s gonna be okay because at least I can count my eye shadow palettes on my fingers, and there’s only two mascaras in my rotation currently.


The good ol’ battle station.  Apartment living = cram as much as possible into a corner.

I never used to be like this. In fact, I was the opposite and grew up a pseudo tomboy painfully lacking in any sort of self awareness especially when it came to my outward physical appearance. I liked earth tones, cargo pants, and deliberately ignoring my rampaging acne. Eyeliner and curling your bangs were like some sort of weird genetics that skipped me and despite hearing the names I was called in the hallway and bearing the brunt of many jokes, I just didn’t know what the hell to do with myself, let alone where to start.

When I finally DID purchase and apply some makeup, I thought blue eye shadow and silver mascara could be a thing. I mean, it WAS the early 00’s, but oh my god. I often wonder why my peers didn’t call me out on that disaster, but then I remember that most of them were busy lining their upper lids with metallic GEL PENS so I forgive, but I will never forget.


It was a long, dusty road of learning for me. A very, VERY long road. A road filled with over-plucked eyebrows, lipstick stained teeth, not realizing I had a mustache for 15 years, and thinking that oily skin meant no moisturizer, ever.

Which now brings us to today and in many ways I am still that lost little girl committing atrocious beauty sins, but that’s OK because sometimes sinning is fun and I’m pretty comfortable in my skin now.

So, what if I told you that I willingly smothered my face with snail secretions on a daily basis? What if I told you that it has basically changed my life? What if I told you that I have a whole insane ritual devoted to the worship of snails that includes an altar and small, snail sized ceremonial robes I lovingly handcrafted from felt?


Snurch (snail church) is a real thing! Via: The Petulant Cephalopod

Okay, if anything the last part is a metaphor. Wait! IS it a metaphor? Did I forget what a metaphor is? Why does this blog post contain so many questions? But honestly you guys, SNAILS. PUT SNAILS ON YOUR FACE.

Most Canadians are probably thinking that I am gross as heck right now, while the Koreans are totally nodding their heads in agreement. I’m actually pretty late to the snail hoopla and the wonders of Korean beauty in general – but I gotta preach it. Their ingredients are seemingly unconventional, and their beauty regimens are definitely very regime-like in structure, but it works, and my epidermis has never been happier. When my standard higher end drugstore products closed a door, snails opened a window for me and let the sunshine in – but not before liberally coating me in the appropriate SPF.

I’m not gonna delve into talking about any specific products in this post, but if you’d like some recommendations or the best shops overseas to purchase k-beauty, feel free to message me. If you interact with me in real life, I probably have x number of products on me at any given time plus samples up the wazoo and I love to share. Just promise me you’ll patch test first. Your mileage may vary, after all.

Smear THIS mammal on your hair for RESULTS

I have a secret. It’s not even a sexy secret, but one of those bad ones where you will shame me from beyond the back-lit screen you’re viewing this on. It’s also something I absolutely know better than to keep doing, but I get curious and it always bites me in the ass. I’m one of those assholes that keeps reading click-bait articles.


I spent my morning googling christian comics because of this…

There. I have given my confession. I’m not Catholic, so no penance for me!

Anyway, along with my secret internet addiction to reading the aforementioned articles online, I also fall prey to browsing opinion posts where the individual makes lists and reasons why we should or should not do a certain thing. It’s cool, really. People can do and say pretty much anything online, but be prepared for the engagement of different minds, especially if you’re posting in a public setting. Not everything you say and do is going to be contained in an agreeable echo chamber forever! Also, question EVERYTHING. Is a popular blogger telling you and your peers to smear the anal glands of a small mammal on your hair to cure diabetes? Don’t be afraid to say “HEY!” or I guess “HEY?” in question format and research that claim. If it sounds too good to be true, it usually is.

Anyway, I was reading this article the other day and it sat funny with me. Maybe the gist of it went over my head because I am a unkempt bag lady and a literal pox on fashion and beauty rules everywhere, but did anyone else feel pressure and anxiety reading this list? I mean, I get looking your best in these scenarios TO A DEGREE, but some of these “rules” made me laugh out loud. I wholeheartedly agree with number 12 though, but for comfort reasons and 29 because your skin needs love, but that’s basically it. You wanna wear a shit-load of accessories and that florescent 80’s style windbreaker? You do you! You make it you! I don’t know about anyone else, but when I am dating someone, I’d rather see them as the slob they are in the beginning of it all than to find out later that the brushed hair and cologne was a well calculated RUSE.


We are not birds! Your plumage does not count if you can’t keep it up for the long run!

Anyway, this blog post was supposed to be about something else entirely, but whatever. A post is a post I guess, so here you are.

The menace of storks

“Time is running out.”

I have been a huge fence-sitter when it comes to whether or not to have children of my own. The maternal instincts of needing to create a brood consisting of a haphazard mash-up of questionable DNA has never even pinged on my life radar. It just doesn’t seem to exist.


I’ve also never been a children person, even when I was one myself. Babies? Forget it! Come talk to me when you’re a brooding pre-teen. I’ve never changed a diaper, babysat for more than an hour, and holding a newborn does not elicit any real joy stirring from deep within my bosom.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate kids and remain respectful when they’re in my presence, I just lack any sort of natural connection with young people. Being child free this far into my 30’s also means I have literally heard it all, from the standard arguments, to the guilt-tripping, and even being called selfish for blatantly ignoring my god-given duties.

Who knows? Maybe one day I will wake up, stretch my limbs, and suddenly desire for my loins to be filled with various fruits. Maybe I will give my knee a hearty slap and guffaw to myself that it’s taken that long untangle my fallopian tubes and get crackin’. Stranger things have happened after all.


I take your threat as seriously as I take your shoes, stork.

Most likely though, I will remain as I am; barren and content. Either way, that’s completely my choice and should really have no effect on anything or anyone, ever.

This also leaves me wide open for about 28 cats!

Why I won’t buy that

Don’t get me wrong, I’m a huge fan of entrepreneurial endeavors.  If you want to get into business and sell the results of your creativity or specific skill set, I will help hold you up to the heavens and proclaim favorably on your behalf. What I can’t and will not get behind however is anything to do with the multi-level marketing that has literally bombarded social media over the last few years.

noI know that not all MLM companies are the same, and some are definitely a lot less terrifying to come across in the wild. Let’s take Avon as an example of one. Every few weeks the Avon lady will chuck a brochure at my mother’s head and vanish into the night. No pressure to buy or constant pestering – if my mom likes anything and wants to make a purchase, Avon lady is just a phone call away and as far as I understand, Avon reps get a percentage of sales back and probably cool swag here and there, but most do not expect the end result to generate any sort of feasible income or be anything other than a small side project to enjoy.

The companies that I have issues with are the ones that float around online and use cryptic buzzwords, promises, and lack any sort of searchable information so that you eventually fall into their clutches by your own curiosity. Body wraps, nutritional shakes, essential oils, and even oysters (?) have been countlessly pitched to me via Facebook and often times relentlessly now that I’ve made my weight loss goals public. God, the number of times that people I haven’t talked to in 5+ years have crawled out of the woodwork to better enrich my life with newfangled necessities is staggering and maddening. It’s even more baffling when complete strangers accost you.

For instance, I have to be completely honest and admit that I have bought products from these companies before, usually not due to any real need for them, but to appease or help out a friend because I was a pushover in that respect. Last year, a coworker of mine was helping out her friend and seeing if any of us ladies would be interested in -beauty product here-. “Sure.” I thought, “I could try it out…”, so I ordered it, it came, I used it, whatever. Suddenly I am getting messages both on Facebook and via my personal number from this mystery woman who I have absolutely no affiliation with except from buying said product. She wants me to “throw a product party” and join the team. I laugh and tell her that it’s pretty impossible since I HAVE NO FRIENDS (who would use the products) but that must have gone in through one ear and out the other or dissipated before it hit her brain because I actually had to block her a short time later. How annoying!


Many MLM structures are like a pyramid scheme. Join them! Get people to join under you! Reap untold riches by drinking the specific kool-aid! Do you like money? Passion? Adventure? All of these can be yours if only you give us your money, follow our rules, and sell our wares! Don’t forget to harass your friends and family into buying from you because if they don’t, they’re negative and hindering your success! Make sure that every waking breath and social setting is a chance to pitch your sale! SYNERGY!

So yeah, think twice before you add me without permission to your online groups, or gear up to ask me to hand over my hard earned money. I don’t think you’ll like or particularly enjoy my answer. If I want it, I’ll come to you first.