Efficiency is awesome. Except when it is not.
For all of the girlie supplies I have in my bathroom (Bath and Body Works brand lotion & spray & soap, & cream & tirecleaner & etc, MAC Cosmetics, foot buffer, various loofah, you get it), I don't do nearly as much primping as my cabinet would lead you to believe. This is because I am above all that lazy. So, when I do primp, I do it with maximum efficiency. Like clipping my nails. While going potty. After nearly losing my clippers to the toilet bowl, I am striking this act of efficiency off the list of efficient things. It is such an appallingly stupid act of efficiency that I am putting it in the book of Appallingly Stupid Acts of Efficiency right below the entry for "My father - ironing shorts with shorts still on". His appallingly stupid act of efficiency landed him the ginormous burn right above his knee. I believe he wrote the book.
Next up, face cleaning. Apparently when Burt's Bees labels all their goodies "Not tested on animals", they mean "Not really tested at all and highly likely to cause severe burning if this product contains any form of alchohol". After washing my face, I applied Burt's Bees blemish fighter and immediately began to whimper like a kicked dog. As I sat on the edge of the sink waiting for the fire underneath my skin to subside, I realized I was angrier about something much larger.
Why am I still fighting acne at 25?
It's not bad. And I am sure it is fairly normal. I've got a couple small pimples here and there. I have never really had bad skin. But, like everything else in my life, my acne is spread out over an extended course of time for maximum annoyance. Where most people have vicious acne as a teenager and then sheer fucking porcelain skin as adults, I am convinced that I will be haunted by stray pimples well into my 80's.
I thought that clear skin would be among one of those many awesome things that would finally be bestowed upon me when I become an "adult". Things like a mortgage payment, a new car, and some sense of personal stability. I have errant acne, a ridiculously large Target bill, an 16-year-old BMW, and a sense of personal void.
...besides Sarah and I that the new pope is a former Hitler Youth?
I was listening to all the pope related coverage yesterday on NPR, and they had all of these representatives for Catholicism ranting and raving how they don't want a pope that follows the current fashion of times. You know, because we are all living in sin. They want a pope that is solid and stands for "what is right", not "what is right now".
Yeah, that worked like gangbusters. Way to go. It is plain to see from looking at Ratzinger's history that he totally doesn't bend to the times.
Oh, wait. No. That's not right. I mean, he did bend to the times, but those were Nazi times, but he promises not to bend to the times now. For reals.
Um, how about... NEVER.
Matt and I were watching Everest last night, and I was just appalled. More than appalled. Pissed. Angry. Incredulous. And many other ten cent words that are synonymous with "mad".
Obvious background story - Everest is the story of a bunch of climbers' journeys to the top of Everest. I have always wondered what would compel people to do something so obviously dangerous. I now know - the only thing they care about is themselves and some stupid dream of being one of the few to accomplish something.
If you don't want to know what happens in the movie, stop reading now.
The narrator of the movie chronicles what happens when one of the groups of climbers gets caught in a blizzard after leaving middle camp. One of his good friends is among this team of climbers, and never makes it down.
He had a wife that was 7 months pregnant at home!
I realize that this guy lost his life, and it is really wrong of me to criticize his soul, but WTF??!?! What the hell could compel you to think that leaving your pregnant wife at home to go climb the highest and most dangerous peak on planet Earth was a good idea? Why would you risk your life knowing that you could possibly be abandoning your wife and unborn child?
The narrator then had the AUDACITY to call the climbers courageous.
Leaving a pregnant wife to go fulfill some personal dream that kills you is not courageous. It's fucking selfish.
I was livid. I started yelling at Matt. And swearing. And then I yelled at the cat when I went in the kitchen. And I stayed pissed all night, and was still angry when I woke up this morning.