You know what? Concealer doesn�t conceal shit.
I have spent the last hour attempting to render one of my tattoos �invisible� (as it promises on the packaging), and so far, all that�s invisible is my five bucks. Sure, I�ve now got a stretch of abdomen that is now an unnaturally even tone, but right smack dab in the middle of it is a big old tattoo.
Now, you might ask why I would be attempting to cover this up. I mean, you might not, either, but just for the sake of argument, let�s say you have. The answer is because I�ve landed this freelance assignment just recently, which I�m really quite excited about, but it�s not really a tattoo-friendly environment. I have to figure out some way to cover this thing up before I start the job. This weekend.
So there I am, in the bathroom, surrounded by pricey bottles of shit I don�t understand, all with names like �Ivory� and �Sand�, like whatever happened to fucking �Beige�? And I just know there�s some trick to this that you girls are taught in some secret ceremony when you turn fourteen; some seminar where they teach you how to put on eyeliner in a car moving down the freeway without flinching, and how to apply lipstick evenly without a mirror. That�s when they teach girls about how to use concealer. Meanwhile, in the gym, the boys were learning how to play dodge ball.
Frankly, I don�t think I wish I had been at the Secret Ceremony, because as much as I hated dodge ball, I�ve got precious little practical use for the knowledge of applying lipstick evenly, with or without a mirror. But looking back, I have to confess that there�ve been more than a few times I could have used a good tutorial in concealer, while I haven�t played dodge ball since I was thirteen.
So now what? Should I try spray paint? It would probably hold better, and cover up more thoroughly, but I highly doubt that it would be easy to match it to my current skin tone. I could try the J.Lo approach and use double-sided tape or nail adhesive to glue all the edges of my clothes down, so they don�t come popping up and reveal my body art, but tape has a habit of not quite sticking to skin properly, and I don�t relish the thought of needing acetone to take off my skivvies.
Oh, also, I would like to take this opportunity to thank everyone who either e-mailed, signed my guestbook, or both, in response to my recent automotive mishap. It was very kind of you guys, and I appreciate it. After reviewing the insurance adjustor�s notes and snapshots, the dealership faxed over a preliminary report citing that the damages at about $3,500. This number will only go up, though, as that figure is only a rough estimate for the external damage. Once they get it in the shop and open it up, they�ll fax over a supplementary report, assessing damages to poor Stewart�s circulatory system as well. My guess is that they�ll want to replace the break pads, too, since they always want to replace the break pads.
However, since insurance is footing the bill, they can replace whatever the fuck they want. I�ll bet I won�t even have to wait in line for three hours this time.
Someone Got Here By Searching For: shit in your handbag And: europe wine rack I�m Watching: Scrubs. I love this show, and not just because Zach Braff and I are getting married. I�m About To: Dye my torso black and call it a birthmark. Fuck you, CoverGirl.