"Homer, it's set on whore!"

On of my favorite episodes of The Simpsons is the one in which Homer invents a make-up gun. At one point in the show, he points it at Marge's face and fires, resulting in a very garishly made-up face for Marge.

Who then exclaims: "Homer, it's set on whore!"

I kind of felt like Marge today. I went to The Body Shop before ESL. I had a $25 gift certificate that expired today and they were having a great sale on my facial care products.

Out of sheer lack of willpower, I somehow got myself into a mini makeover.

One of my colleagues at work has a nasty cold, and — of course — chose today to hang around my desk and ask questions. She also asked me to fix something on her computer, which meant I had to touch the mouse she'd been using all day. So immediately afterward I went off to the ladies' room to wash my hands.

For good measure, I washed my face. Just in case I had inadvertently scratched my nose or something. Of course, this effectively removed whatever make-up I had on, so by the time I made it to The Body Shop I was looking less put together than usual.

Now, I don't wear a lot of make-up. I quite prefer the natural look. Usually I wear just foundation, eyeliner and lip stain. My entire morning make-up regimen takes about two minutes.

(I have pink hair, so I don't have to do much to look distinctive.)

So I don't know what got into me when I let the employee at The Body Shop have at my face with myriad brushes and shimmery powders. Perhaps it was that I had some time to kill before class. Or perhaps it was that soothing subliminal music that I'm sure contains messages to buy extravagant items one will never use. It's the same music that in clothing-store dressing rooms croons: "This hideous and exorbitantly expensive (insert item of clothing) makes you look fabulous."

Anyhow, by the time she was done I looked as though I had two black eyes. She said she wanted to try something dramatic with me.

I looked like I'd been in a fist-fight with a lounge act. Even my eyebrows glittered.

Needless to say, I did not purchase any of the products she tried out on me.

Thank goodness I was only off to teach ESL tonight. Had I been off to do anything social, it would have been off to the public restroom to wash my face, again.

This cracks me up

Someone at Leaky Lounge is using this as their avatar. And it absolutely cracks me up.

Endorphins

Today was a good day. I took half of a comp day and ate breakfast with my mom and uncle in Milwaukee before driving in for a half-day of work. When I checked my email I had a note from Nasubionna letting me know my commission is almost done and I should send her my final check. She said the piece she's done for me will be hard to part with — I'm so excited to finally see it.

I asked Nasubionna to do a Remus and Tonks piece well before Half-Blood Prince was out, and now I'm even more excited about it.

I think everyone should have the experience of commissioning art. I've paid a decent but reasonable price for something I've described but have never seen. I might get it and love it. I might get it and hate it (highly unlikely). But someone made it because I asked them to.

My car started making squeaky (not brake-squeaky, but plastic-squeaky) noises when I drove home from work. Kind of sounds like a bad rear joint or strut. Maybe a locked-up caliper, even. It's not horrible, so maybe I'll just call to make an appointment to have it checked out.

Feeling pretty bummed about the prospect of more car repairs, I came home, talked to Kathy a bit and then read some fan-fic. Which did nothing to cheer me up.

So I threw on my gym clothes and did 35 minutes on the elliptical trainer. Why is it so hard to be motivated to go to the gym when I feel so good afterward?

Then it was off to Jamba Juice for dinner (wasn't feeling very hungry). Now I'm off to take a Juniper-Wintergreen bath and go to bed.

Sorry. Rambling.

A first in the history of publishing

I work for a magazine. Yesterday, I received a "Happy Belated Article*" card from one of the writers I hired as a freelancer for the November issue. It even featured a distracted-looking writer on the front, twiddling his pencil with a stack of blank paper on the desk.

* It was actually a modified "Happy Belated Birthday" card, but ridiculously clever nonetheless.

Actual workplace conversation
Tonight's workout accompaniment: Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone

Colleague: What did you do this weekend?

Me: I slept a lot. And I watched Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves just for the Alan Rickman factor.

Colleague: Who's he?

Me: British actor. He plays a lot of movie villains. He's the guy on my Harry Potter tee-shirt.

Colleague: I don't think I know him. Is he a villain in any romantic comedies?

Me: As a matter of fact, he is. You've seen Love, Actually, right?

I'm back

Whew! I'm finally back from a week-long business trip. I was back at work Monday without the benefit of a weekend, so I've been slogging through the week. I took today off to sleep.

And, much to my delight, I found this very-satisfying shoebox installment.

Yay!

Dear readers of Ligature

I admit it.

I've been cheating on you with another blog.

It's not that I don't love you. No, in fact, you gave me the confidence to go out and do what I thought I could never do:

Blog for work.

You see, about a month ago, my workplace's Web site relaunched. With new features. Including a blog. And, as the keeper of the site, I've encouraged all my fellow colleagues to blog. Each of us takes a day of the week. Mine are Saturday and Sunday.

So I've been blogging over there.

But I've seen the error of my ways.

And even though a monogamous relationship won't be possible, I intend to pay you the attention you deserve. Just as soon as I think of something to write.