You're the reason I drink...

Sometimes my family drives me to drink, sometimes they drive me to take a bath and throw turn off my phone,

Tonight I went a little retro with my bath regimen. Lush Retro. Lush Retro is made up of retired but still in demand classic Lush recipes. What’s not to love?

First up: The Marzibain Bubble Bar

This smells like light Marzipan, isn’t super bubbly but is super moisturizing. Perfect for soaking. I just ordered another one to keep in my stash. I will not be pleased when they run out!

Next: Karma Bath Melt

Honestly, if I could just bathe in a tub of half these, half warm water, I would. They make the water a glittery, shimmery gold awesomeness, moisturize my skin, and did I mention the fuckton of glitter? If you’re like me, you’ve still got the 12 year old girl trapped inside desperate to figure out how to layer on more Bonne Bell glitter. 

(These, for those of you who weren’t 10-13 when I was. Also, side note to my mom, this is NOT make up. Does not count. I carried on my Bonne Bell Affair much longer than I should have.)

Anyway, because I was feeling extra fancy, and the douchecanoe who likes to harass me at school decided to be an extra ray of sunshine in my day, I chucked in a bath bomb, just for good measure. 

Finally: My Fairy Jasmine

The scent isn’t strong, but it nicely compliments the bubble bar. Gentle, softening, and of course, full of “fairy dust” glitter. Just the way I like it. 

If you’ve never checked out Lush, you should! There’s stores all over! I’ve visited Portland, Maui, and NYC’s stores and thus far they’re all full of the same friendly, cheerful people who will give you the skinny on everything you need to know. 

Ohhhh glorious joy. Today my first birchbox finally arrived. I may have sworn off buying the mass quantities and large size products, but for the low, low price of 10.00 a month, I can justify this purchase. Don’t judge me. I’ve just given up taco bell in the interest of living past 30. Sometimes I get it right. 

The photos are obviously not mine, but I digress. 

I live on the west coast, so apparently that means it will take a full ten days for my box to arrive, when other people get them sooner. Again, 10 bucks a month. Not really going to complain. 

I got Box #1, I’m pretty sure. I was not disappointed. The little greeting card that came with it told me all about the products, and the sweet magnet within was a nice little gift. The theme in it all is Clarity. 

I opened my beautiful barbie pink package and nearly knocked over my hard lemonade. 

#1 Archipelago Pomegranate Soap - Full size $12.50 for 6.9 oz

I’ve never used this brand, but I’m excited about my 1.8 oz sample. 2006 I was starting my junior year and fell deeply in love with the Temptations: Pomegranate Martini. Like a fool, I thought when it disappeared at the end of that fateful summer that Bath and Body Works would bring it back the following summer. Like many other people who have suffered lost love, it was not meant to be. Those fuckers did not bring it back, and it’s now $50.00 for an $8.00 tube of it on eBay. And if one more person asks me “Have you tried pomegranate Midnight instead?” I will karate chop the poor girl. Plain and simple. It is not even remotely the same. My point is that normally I don’t like pomegranate scents because I’m still holding out for my first love and everything else just smells kind of fake to me. However, when I opened the box, I was met with the sweet, pure fragrance. This soap doesn’t bug my sensitive skin, and it leaves a light scent that complements the Juicy Couture Spray. I would definitely recommend this, but I’ve got enough Lush product right now that I won’t be forking out money for a full size any time soon unless this turns out to be the Holy Grail of soap. It’s currently waitlisted on Birchbox, so it wouldn’t surprise me. It definitely leaves my skin softer.

#2 The Stila Liner: Blue Ribbon Smudge Stick, Waterproof - They gave me a FULL SIZE! - $20.00

I think I was most excited about this one because I saw on a sneak peek that these would be in some of the boxes, and I have lately wanted to try some navy blue liner. I have very almond, mongolian eyes. I want to make them look wider, and I must not be alone. I’m a sucker for anything marketed to help me achieve that goal. Stila makes great liner. It doesn’t bug me as a contact lens abuser and constant allergy attack victim. It’s soft so I’m not ripping at my waterline. The colors are high pigment and they stay on with the flexibility for smudging. Obviously this alone was worth it.

As of this morning, I’ve been wearing to all day and I’ll tell you the truth, even with a contact lens malfunction I haven’t had to retouch it. The color looks like a stormy blue-grey, and definitely not as harsh as black, but you could use both for smokey eyes. I still want to try Navy liner, but I’ll be using this whole thing up. 

#3 Juicy Couture: Juicy Couture $69.00-$89.00 for a 1.7 or 3.4oz bottle

“Top notes of watermelon, passion fruit, and mandarin combine with bright whiffs of marigold and green apple. Rose, vanilla, and yummy caramel undertones anchor the scent.”

I am a loyalist to Viva la Juicy, but I like to think of this scent as the summery tea-time version. It’s fresh and sweet. I’m sitting here sniffing my wrist like it’s still covered in coke, so I must like it. 

#4 Clark’s Botanicals Smoothing Marine Cream -1.7 oz - $112.00 (mutherfucker)

I put this on last night, and I’ll tell you that not only does a little go a long way, but it smells like what I can only assume classy people from the 1940’s glam life. Like old, classic hollywood. I woke up this morning and my skin feels like clouds woven with silk. The price of a full size is the only reason this won’t be anything I buy soon. 

Bonus Bonus!! 

Apparently they read my mind and combined my love of food and cosmetics by adding a bonus snack. This month’s snack is a Larabar, which I learned from Amazon I can buy for approximately $1/bar if I order a whole box online. Otherwise, they look like they’re probably $1.50 - $2.50 a pop. Better for you than candy bars, gluten free and vegan friendly. I’m trying to get into dancer shape and tone up, but a lot of healthy snacks don’t satisfy me on the go. Don’t anyone tell me about fiber bars. Let me tell you, chocolate or no, they remind me of and taste like what I imagine drywall tastes like: BAD. This one was carrot-cake flavored. I resisted the urge to smear it with cream cheese frosting, and because it was fun size, didn’t bother to wait til the mid-morning break at school to try it. 

It was actually really good. Some people think they’re on the sweet side, which I’m sure is why I like it. I’m not positive on all the ingredients, but if you look them up, you’ll see words like: Raw foods, dried fruit, nuts, dried berries, raisins. I hate eating breakfast, but I can eat this in the car on the way, or snack on it during class. I have allergies to pesticides and some preservatives that are put in nuts and dried fruit. Something in there kind of made my throat tickle, but not nearly as bad as apples and red cabbage and carrots usually do, so I can take one for the team on that. I’m going to try a new flavor on for breakfast tomorrow. Edit: Tried a COCO vegan bar. Apricot. It was like eating forrest floor soil, tea grounds, and general grossness. Definitely sticking with the Larabar. 

What’d you get in your box? Were you happy with it? Will you continue to subscribe?

Unfortunate for us that our conservative Christian mother has a natural immunity to screaming eyes and whining teenagers. We’ve been whining every Thursday that she’s dragged us to this godforsaken wasteland where we already spend a good chunk of Wednesday being tortured by all the other teenagers who don’t have parents that make them show up every Sunday as well. We also go to a good Christian school. Five days a week. This is, of course, endless entertainment for all the other teenagers, so Wednesday nights are a special treat. The only kid lower on the totem than us is the ginger kid with weird parents who enjoys all the church activities. 

He was this guy. Pretty much. 

“You are called to church. If you really can’t be bothered to give up an hour and a half for the Lord…” seems to be her mantra. 

Telling her I’d rather not be bothered, seeing as the Lord has not bothered calling me directly, turns shouty, so I do math in my head instead. 

If I start school at 8, and don’t get out until 3, then that’s 30 hours a week I am being called to the Lord. Then we add church on Sunday, with some Sunday school just in case we didn’t feel called enough. That’s another three hours. I’d like to write off the joys of youth group and confirmation as “fun” and “not really church” but I haven’t figured out that smoking pot is the only way to unlock that kind of a write off, so we can add that from 5-9. That’s another four hours for the Lord. 

So if we add in the exquisite torture that is bell choir, you know we’ve just bumped ourselves up to a full-time job. Being called to the Lord. Full time. That’s not including the hour-long round trip every time we venture to the wasteland. 

<This is essentially what it looks like. Fun for people who enjoy church, church music, community, and volunteering for extra church. This is exactly what an already bullied teenager desperate for acceptance will NOT be helped by.>

My brother and I give each other “the look”. He hates being here just as much as I do, if not more. He is also miffed that God seems to have my mother on speed dial, but can’t drop us a courtesy note to let us know he’d really love to see us there too? Jesus fucking Christ I hate being in churches. Never do I feel more alone and out of place. 

We take the absolute longest amount of time possible to get into the car, as well as to get out of the car. My mother is on to us and thinks that calling us childish, immature, and self-centered will get us to move faster.

It doesn’t. 

It’s clearly time for a bathroom break. We’ve got a routine down. We know how to sneak off and waste as much time as possible. They’ve limited us to a break in the middle of practicing. Instead of my original plan for five breaks… before the middle of practicing. 

Unfortunately, we’re all gathered together now. All the old ladies, myself, and my thirteen year old twin brother. And our vaguely creeper-looking teacher? Choir leader? Director? It’s probably director, but I’m trying to figure out how to make this my last meeting. We put on our stupid looking Mickey Mouse gloves… I guess they are supposed to protect the bell… which you aren’t supposed to touch anyway… I don’t know. I look forward to when my gloves “accidentally” get lost because then I don’t have to look like an asshole, too. 

We’ll be performing soon, too. Fantastic. That means we all get to wear black and white outfits with our stupid fucking gloves. My twin and I are in the start of our angsty years. If it isn’t all black, we have no interest in it. 

<In 2002, we were these kids>

And then I hear the sweetest words ever. 

It’s over. Someone else got suckered into hiring this guy to do this, at another church, full time. Andy and I look at each other over the length the three tables separating us. My mother had us separated from the get go, as usual. No joy is allowed here. Only suffering; except today. I don’t dare make eye contact with her or the old ladies. I know I’ll break out in a big, stupid, freedom filled grin. We pretend to be bummed, too. However, we’re obviously not fooling anyone. My mother does not speak to us on the way home; as if we planned this out ourselves. Honestly I don’t think we could have planned it this good. We’re getting out if it totally scott-free. We don’t even have to show for the next performance. It’s a Christmas miracle in March! 

Epilogue:

I haven’t played handbells in ten years now, and I’m still glad God never bothered to call me back.