I’m in a ranty sort of mood tonight, internet.
The subject of today’s rant is contouring.
Have you heard of this crap? If you are a lady person under the age of 30, it’s quite probable you have. For others of you, possibly not. I’ll fill you in.
Contouring is basically like shading your face so it looks more 3-D. You put dark makeup on some bits and light makeup on other bits and apparently it’s supposed to make your face less fat. Because I guess now we need to be concerned about our faces looking fat. What next, our fingernails?
Skipping over the complication of faces already being 3-D, I’m a little concerned about this contouring thing.
Let me walk you through the process.
First, you moisturize your face to keep your skin fresh and young and healthy. Then you prime your face with a primer, which is like another moisturizer but not, to make your skin smooth. Then you put skin-colored foundation on your face, because nobody wants to actually see your real skin. Put that shit away.
Then you highlight and darken certain areas of your face, as shown above. Then you blend it out so it looks “natural”, and then you powder it.
After all that, you can start putting your makeup on. The entire process only takes about the lifespan of a star to complete.
This does not make you look more beautiful. It makes you look Photoshopped.
What happened to fresh, clean, dewy skin? Why do we have to put on a clown mask just to go out nowadays?
I might officially have the two stupidest dogs on the planet.
Let me explain.
I’m still in Canada visiting my grandparents, whose house is right on the lake. Not lake close. Not lake side. Lake on.
My two golden retriever puppies, Patty Mayonnaise and Dr. Pepper, are H2o enthusiasts. They swim like otters who have spend the entire morning unattended in a candy shop. Patty, in particular, is aqua obsessive. She will figuratively swim until she dies. Pepper enjoys BEING in water, but less so the physical aspect.
Let’s omit the part where it took them 15 minutes to even figure out that the house was near a body of water. Namely, the 15 minutes it took for me to put a swimsuit on and take them down to the beach. Come on, dogs.
No, the part that had me in stitches was the part where my dear dogs could not see the massive schools of spawning carp that were literally underneath their noses.
Side note – did you see what I did up there with the correct usage of figuratively and literally? That’s how it’s done, internet.
Yet I digress.
Each spring, the lakefront right outside my grandparent’s house is home to multiple healthy populations of fish… uh… doin’ it. As only fish can do. Meaning by laying eggs and – you know what, you get the idea.
I distinctly remember one day when I was a kid, about 7 years old. I was swimming in the shallows and I caught, with my bare hands, a pike who was clearly sedated by his (her?) post-coital bliss. I grabbed hold of the struggling serpentine shape and high-tailed to the house, where mi familia was enjoying some late afternoon apéritifs.
I proudly walked into the middle of this pleasant gathering, and said (true story), “Look! I caught dinner!”
It took some time for then to convince me to put the fish back in the lake. Apparently people don’t eat pike (reasons why I’m single #4 – I’m wicked good at catching spawning pike).
Long story summarized – lots of fish up in this lake. Massive fish. I saw at least five 10-pounders.
What catches my dog’s attention, pray tell? What makes them raise their hackles and growl and clash their teeth?
This inanimate, non-threatening rock. Keep in mind there are huge fish swimming INTO my dog’s legs (fish are dumb).
But no, apparently the rock was a bigger security issue than the fish.
Because of reasons?
I’ve talked about my least favorite animal in the house already, Marmaduke, but I haven’t told you you about the stars of the show yet. I have three pets total- Marmaduke, who I’ve talked about in great length, Patty Mayonnaise, and Dr. Pepper. Dr. Pepper’s name is technically Peppermint so together the two dogs are Peppermint Patty, but I categorically refuse to refer to them in that way. Honestly, I generally refer to them as “D’awwwwww” and “Who’s a good boy you areeeee”.
Patty is slightly older then Pepper- we got her about a year before we got him. She’s now almost three. They are technically half siblings from the same breed / family as our old dog Mackintosh.
They are Alaskan Goldens, which means they are bred as sled dogs and they are about mini horse sized. This does not make them as smart as mini horses. I think between the two of them, they could maybe figure out “sit”. On a good day.
Fun facts- Patty is terrified of heights. Peppermint is pretty convinced that the cat is a chew toy. They’re both pretty awesome pillows.