Yay Canada!

Cool.

I love it when treating myself to a nice meal out after a too-long workday actually becomes a treat rather than a chore. Tonight I stopped by the local Italian/Mediterranean restaurant in my neighborhood and found out they were having a 3-course special for $20. I had the best lentil soup ever, some nicely seasoned caprese, and a Moroccan dish called Fez Jun (sp?) which is veal in a sweet walnut gravy over rice, with zuccini slaw and broccoli. So very yummy.

When I was in Seattle, I went to sushi (very yummy) with Plei, Paul, TICKYBOX, Jilli and Pete, and then we went around the corner to that sold primarily cupcakes. They had big cupcakes, and little tiny cupcakes, and white cupcakes, and chocolate cupcakes, and all of them had buttercream frosting.

So. Good. I don't understand why there isn't a store like that in every single town.

OK so you know how people are always sharing their stories about getting fitted for a bra and how revelatory it is, like how life-transforming, how much more comfortable they feel and how much better they look now that they're finally wearing the right size bra? And every single one of these stories contains this line: "It turns out I've been wearing the wrong size all my life!"

Well today I was bra shopping and I walked into this store and the saleswoman goes, "We specialize in fitting people for bras. It only takes 10 minutes." And I was like, "Oh, right, because everyone is wearing the wrong size bra, huh?" and she goes, "Yes, 95 percent of people are wearing the wrong size" and I joked, "I don't know if I want to know that, I mean I'll have to get all new bras" but I was excited because I wanted to have the same kind of epiphany myself and feel and look better than ever, so I said OK.

The woman measured my rib cage and looked at my boobs and played with my bra straps and stuff for a while and finally proclaimed what my perfect size is: the exact size I have been wearing lo these many years. She goes, "Wow, you're in that 5 percent who know their bra size!" and I felt a combination of deep disappointment and superiority. It's a weird combo. I guess it's what Buffy feels all the time.

t /story

I felt a combination of deep disappointment and superiority. It's a weird combo. I guess it's what Buffy feels all the time.

RIO! I loved how you described that.

One of my roommates went into a cosmetics place once, that offered free makeovers trials with professionals. She was wearing makeup, that she applied on herself, at home. She was waiting in line, and the clerk looked at her, and said something like "oh, so you're after the makeover, right?". She, too, really wanted to learn new things and how to make herself even prettier.

Nilly!

RIO!

Hi.

HI NILLY!

I got a makeover--well, a makeup application--once from the Paris representative of Stephane Marais and it was indeed revelatory.

Hi, Perkins!

Perkins!

and it was indeed revelatory

Do you find that you use the things you learned then, in your everyday life?

My roommates are quite determined to give me a makeover. They're determined for the last 3 years, in which one of them got married and therefore stopped being my roommate anymore, but the girl replacing her is even more determined. Maybe she will end up getting her way.

Do you find that you use the things you learned then, in your everyday life?

Well, not every day, because I don't wear makeup every day, but I do when I go out at night, and I totally use the stuff she taught me. Specifically, she told me I don't need to use foundation: she taught me how, with judicious use of concealer and a little powder, I can make my skin look flawless. And she used a neutral lipstick on me that I never would have picked for myself, because I believed that all neutrals made me look dead. I use that color all the time now. And I totes copy the way she lined my eyes--green on the inside, black on the outside--all the time.

the girl replacing her is even more determined. Maybe she will end up getting her way.

Ooh, what does she want to do? I love a makeover.