Tuesday, March 21, 2006

Random Tangent #421

*UPDATE*: The email was live and active! He came off real nice! Gave me his cell phone number! Everything for this article is falling into place!

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I am a LUSH addict. I have been for months now. It's true, I'm a bit ashamed of this habit, but their beauty products are, hands down, the finest in the entire universe the size of Sally Struthers's underpants. They handmake everything from all natural and safe synthetic ingredients (practically everything in the store comes with an expiry date; the Warrior mask alone has a freshness lock of only three weeks) and I have yet to break out from using anything I've tried. My friends are hooked. Not as much as me because I'm known to be gullible. Even so, LUSH delivers. The products are very specialized and are designed to treat an array of skin types which would explain why their effectiveness is dependent on the user. Anyway, I found my regimen, I'm chummy with the manager, and scored Readerdroid a chance to work there this summer.

One word: Freebies.

I've replaced every item - sans Olay moisturizers - in my medicine cabinet with a LUSH equivalent. Except they aren't equivalents, they're diii~vine. So now, I share my newfound wisdom with you (and by share, I mean, write this down so I can look back on it when I'm in my 20s and remember the good ol' days when I could afford such luxuries on mommy's income):

Fresh Farmacy cleansing bar (every evening)
Tea Tree Water toner (twice a day)
Enzymion face cream (morning)
Warrior mask (every 2-3 days)
Ocean Salt scrub (twice a week)
Breeze on Sea Air toner (spritzed throughout the day)

And water. I try to drink a litre minimum a day because pop is too sweet and I don't want to develop a tolerance to my cheap caffeine kicks for when I need it for school and preferably green, white, or lemon-infused tea when it's convenient and dairy only if it's organic (because I'm a sucker for sensationalist bovine hormone propaganda) and not-from-concentrate orange juice with extra pulp because who wants to pay for diluted syrup and absolutely under no circumstances any alcohol (unless I'm being peer-presssured by my relatives no less. See: Last Christmas). So now I glow. I glow like a post-coital ho. I look better than I did in high school (but that may just be the puberty winding down). It could also be because I live within the downtown core and tend to walk everywhere. Wherever I am, I automatically take the stairs instead of the accompanying escalator every time there's a choice. And on the weekends, I take four-hour walks across the island and back. It's not conscious, I don't consider it exercise - it's window shopping - but it has somehow improved my general well-being all the same. I don't like to return home to my parents for that sole reason: I'm driven everywhere. The suburbs discourage using sidewalks. Only freaks and children make use of them. And even they call each other names.

Where was I going with this? Ah yes. Como agua para chocolate (Like Water for Chocolate, 1992). It's 6 a.m. movie time, baby.

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