Apply Now!

And I have.

I find it a little disconcerting when I’ve taken to applying  for jobs on my days off as a Pizza Slut. Can job apply-ery be considered a hobby? I believe so, especially when I can recite from memory the exact start and end dates of my last FOUR jobs. (My Rockstar was slightly impressed at that feat.)

It’s not that I despise my current job- ok, that’s a lie. So I despise my current job, but not for the reasons one may perhaps think. It’s true that the lack of tipping going on is at an all time high, and it’s also true that despite the fact that I told my boss last week that I’m no longer in charge, I still seem to be the only one who knows what the fuck is going on there. But if you were to ask me why it is I so desperately seek new employment, I would tell you it is because I wish to have a job that I shower at BEFORE I go to work, not after.

I remember now the reason I so had come to hate my old restaurant job. It is because the stench of grease and sustenance never fully washes away in the cleansing waters of the bath. I loofah (is that a verb?) like crazy, and yet I find myself sniffing my pits wondering if I stink as bad as I think I do.

This was never a problem at my bookstore. Sure, old books have a distinct scent to them, but not one that gone unwashed will make you smell like an athlete’s jock strap.

And so, I decided today during my search for the perfect job that isn’t writing, I shall not lower my standards to apply at any job that causes me to break a sweat on a daily basis. (It’s disturbing how completely lazy that sounds to me.) Luckily, Barnes and Nobles is once again hiring, so that was my first application of the day. Too, I found that ULTA was hiring, and since the girls that work there are always beautiful in looks and smell, I said to myself that I must get that job! After pooh-poohing the idea of becoming a breast imager (while the concept sounds extremely interesting, I am certain there must be some sort of schooling needed there), I decided that I’ve had enough for the day.

Now I sit with fingers crossed, hoping no interviewers ask me the reason for my termination from the bookstore…

“A Girl Can Never Wear Enough Blue Eyeshadow.”

Ever since I heard Jamie Lee Curtis utter these words in My Girl, I have been a believer.

While I was growing up, I wasn’t allowed to even THINK about makeup- my parents believing it would turn me into a tart or a wanton woman. In 4th grade, my friend was allowed to wear foundation because her skin resembled a 3D topographic map. There was an incident when we snuck into the bathroom at school and proceeded to smear said foundation onto our faces, which looked as though I was attempting to dress in black face, since her skin was so much darker than mine. We were rudely interrupted by my incredibly strict teacher, who looked down disapprovingly and said, “Sparkle, would your parents be happy with you at this moment?” The threat of my teacher informing my parents of my transgression kept me from playing with my friend’s makeup of then on.

When I was 15, excessive begging finally led to my parents allowing me 2 beauty basics: blush and mascara. I somehow managed to procure a tube of “Terra Cotta” lipstick as well. If you don’t know, Terra Cotta is a fancy word for dark orange. When I wore my lipstick to school, the boy I had a crush on stated, “You still have a pretty face, even though you have ten pounds of makeup on.” I was slightly confused, since my friend wore, foundation, powder, eyeshadow, AND lipstick, yet wearing a bright (albeit awful) color of lipstick seemed to make me anathema.

One of the ways in which I have been fortunate is that I never suffered from acne, so I’ve never had to cover anything up on my face. Sadly, I believe I’ve inherited the bags that are under my dad’s eyes; when I am 50, I’ll probably look like I’m ready to go on a $10,000 shopping spree. With my face.

Being a person who is easily distracted by sparkles and bright colors, a trip to ULTA puts me in a state of euphoria. Just seeing the aisles of glittery eyeliner, rows of lipstick, and rainbows of eyeshadow is enough to bring me to orgasm. If you find a girl lying in the middle of ULTA with handfuls of makeup screaming, “OOH! YES! YES! YES!” , you will know you have found me.

My pale vampiric complexion makes it possible for me to wear bright bright pink lipstick and get away with it, and fun purpley eyeshadow brings out the lovely poop color of my eyes. Perhaps when I am old, I will be the ridiculous old woman who wears too much makeup, but it will make me smile every day.