Counting down with Barry White

I am coming in 29 days...

The journey to womenhood

I discovered Makeup, capital EM, a year ago.

After a huge and loud breakup my brain kicked in I'm-da-shit-fuck-you-world mode and just focused on me, me and me. There wasn't anybody I loved more than, wait for it, ME. You guessed right!

This implied concentrating on school and work to be the best I possibly could and implementing a kick-ass wardrobe that could stroll hand in hand with my kick-ass upbeat streak. Said, done.

The next natural step was to get my face to reflect my inner freedom.

I had stopped wearing makeup when I got in the abovementioned dreadful, sometimes thankfully over, relationship because, like, I didn't need it anymore, I'd already scored. And also he who shan’t be named had asked me to because he thought I was cuter without. Aw, adorable, that's why I loved him, gigantic piece of shit fucker.

Aaaanyway, in my original makeup filled flirting days all I would go for was a lil eyeliner and some one-color messy shadow applied all over with fingers. Like a 5 year old drawing. No lips, well except for the late 90s when brick brown lipstick was all the rage.

My skin is pretty much flawless for these smoggy days we live in but all of a sudden I felt the need to ask for advice in looking for a foundation to enhance my newfound glow.

That’s how it started. I set foot in a beauty supply store and some sleepy gene bursts out of my brain making me a slave of all things attractiveness inducing products.

I then discovered MAC, which I’ve since been stocking on, and that is why I’m depotting stuff today. I need to save space for my luggage.

In a full year I went from zero to brainwashed motherfucker, sucking up on YouTube gurus and tutorials. Sometimes I feel like a sellout, but also, I don’t give a fuck. I love to apply makeup because it’s all kinds of artistic, and, mostly, I’m attracted to myself when I pass by a mirror, it must mean it only does me good. I came full circle this week preparing to leave for L.A. when I bought my first pro palettes and decided I had to get them filled to finally trespass into my makeup adulthood.

And I’ve just found out that mineralize blushes don’t have a pan so they can’t be depotted. Note to self.

Cream blushes on the other hand are way better depotting without any heat, like Enkore Makeup does, because well, they melt, and you can only then paint the town with them.

Also keep in mind to OPEN THE WINDOW before attempting such a poisonous plastic melting. It smelled like a rotting corpse was getting after me in here, and my head hurts now.

My lovely single eyeshadows, I'm going to miss them!

What you do is basically you get the top part out of the plastic container with butcher knives then place it on a heat source (straightening iron in my case) so you can torture the material and finally push the pan out. Now magnetize it and you're ready to go.

I also heated the whole container to remove the adhesive tag beneath it and place it on the freed pan before sticking the magnets to it, so the names are still on the back of it without having to write them anywhere.

My first pro palette. Defining moment.

The four blushes + one mineralize blush + one cream blush mayhem.

Same process, except missing a pan at the end of it drives me insane. I had to rebuild the mineralize blush packaging while it was flaming hot and melting and here it is standing beside the new home he refused to move into. Little rebel.

These are the 18 empties I'm going to return to MAC for their recycling program. And I'll get three free lipsticks for it! Best deal I've ever heard.

Having said this, speaking of makeup, here’s evidence of how it helped me a couple of weeks ago when I got sunburnt from stupidly facing the snowy mountains without any fucking sunscreen.

Counting down with Roger Waters

I am coming in 30 days...

The movie with the self-reviewing title

This is the kind of shit I live for.

I’d downloaded the movie more than a year ago and never bothered watching it. So now it comes out in Italy (like yes a whole 12 months later) and the hype is so loud I can’t ignore it. Thus last night I loaded my macbook on my lap, got comfy on the bed and hit play. FUCK IT!

This is the movie my subconscious has always dreamed of making. I hate every single person that’s worked on it. And by hate I mean that I want to do them.

It’s genius because it visually lets out an ironic, unserious outlook on life. Because it finally takes on the superhero genre with a geek attitude. Come on let’s face it, most of the Marvel blockbusters are made to satisfy the masses. But even the ball of dust under my desk at work knows that a true nerd would rather a spurt of ketchup gush out from a severed neck than a polished, choreographed jump from a 200 storey skyscraper while the strings of bravery play in the background. This is a small, independent looking movie that manages to fulfill that need to get back to the often forgotten raw roots, translating comic books unruly feel on film without being ashamed, because the story of a loser superhero lets it do just that. So refreshing!

Not to mention the mastery with which the puzzle is all put together, the single scenes, the details. I’m turned on just thinking about it. This is what happened in a parallel world where Tarantino did Marvel, and considering that Brad Pitt is producing, my head has fabricated a link that I will pretend really exists between the god of pulp and this gore filled fantasy world. Especially since the poster looks a little too much like a Kill Bill’s carbon copy to be casual, blood spills like fountains at a wedding, there’s a shot from a trunk, a semi-anime part, a rampaging vengeful child a la Oren Ishi and a katana gratuitous appearance at the very end.

Plus some parts are insane you guys.

When Hit Girl gets to Frank D’Amico’s house wearing the school uniform and Morricone western music (hello Quentin) soothes the mood, I pronounce it a class act!

Schoolgirl Mexican standoff orgasm!

Elvis rocking the jet pack scene is just unbelievable, I was rolling off the bed let me tell you.

Before the hallway confrontation when back to back close ups of the bad guys pave the way to Joan Jett’s Bad Reputation is from another planet, and who doesn’t want to see a little girl make a big man shoot himself in the head with his own gun via a lazo! I do.

Who does she remind you of?

I’m so obsessed it’s starting to worry me. You will soon catch me around town wearing something like this:

Whilst this is my new facebook profile pic:

Women's ass-kicking committee?! I need to run for President!

And I may go to ComiCon dressed as her next July, because she’s a fucking 11 year old who drives a sports car!

PS. This is a great blog post on the awesome music the film treats us with. A lot of its unconventional appeal is courtesy of choosing the appropriate, or rather the less appropriate in this case, music to season the images with and create the contrast that so royally kicks ass.

Limitless shame

Inexplicably after so many years of working with the more or less famous, self proclaimed or rather stellar celebrities, I still get all tingly inside when I’m in sight radius of one. That’s just my thing.

I may have written this before but with a dissertation on stardom and its impact on society and the economy that’s probably what you’d expect of me. Just that much predictable. My paper focused on the evolution of the star concept from the 60s through the 80s and nothing in college captured my attention more than the books I had to read to prepare for it. It may not be the most insightful subject on the planet but it gets me going like a Duracell bunny.

So much so in fact that in the 30 seconds spam after a sighting my hand instantly places itself on a camera. Whosever that may be.

Well today I met Will Tippin at the Limitless press conference in Rome, and fell pray of my own cliché. Lame I know, but here goes…

Oh who am I fooling?! I love it!!! I own it like breathing… Hugging celebrities, touching them and squeezing their special handles area is my very own high. Overtime I’ve built charts, following straight, binding, certified criteria, and I can assess pretty quickly these days after a lot of practice. I confer Bradley Cooper a round and earned B+. Toned but meaty. Tall, very tall. Great presence. Still not one of my favorites but I’m learning he's a top pick for a lot of other people. Considering the amount of comments I got on my facebook page when I posted the above pic earlier I did my mama proud today.

Let’s be honest young ladies, we women live for a little white envy from our peers every once in a while. That is also why my hand slips on the camera so quickly at the right moment and why I posted the picture on my profile in the first place. I plead guilty to the one sin.

The guy today was very easy and fun, he snapped his own pics with fans, signed a Pisa tower of papers and answered with honest humor.

This is the question I planned on asking for days and someone stole it from me, may you burn in hell. Oh well, it was whether or not he would consider going back on a TV show and which one. Of course I would have never imagined him mentioning LOST...

This one instead is a little insight on his experience with the only Robert De Niro, who costars with him in the movie and whom he once drooled on on Inside the Actor's Studio while in the audience. And you can treat yourselves to the play by play here, 11 minute mark.

I appreciate how he raised the ranks. He’s legit.

And here is my serious side taking advantage of me. Yeah it’s weird I have one. It’s a working mode. On jobs I’m never starstruck, it actually doesn’t even cross my mind even if you dangle a camera in front of my eyes. You see, there’s hope for everybody!

Virginity

I just started my Flickr account and to celebrate the light after a long troubled labour here is my first picture ever.

Virginity.

See it on Flickr

Things that made me go AW today

I'm sunburnt from a careless snowboarding trip with my mom. Why would one think you need sunscreen when you're staying inside a shiny reflecting white bowl perpendicular to the brightest star of the galaxy for eight hours? Exams never end.

I'm also tired out of my mind for getting back to work after said three day trip of doing nothing but riding down mountains and sizzling my epidermis.

So I get on with my substantial poignant readings knowing I'll find something that'll cheer me up. Of course.

#1

These Gwyneth shoes are to die. I died and went to hot pink patent heaven and lost my soul there. I know what I'll be hunting this Spring.

On a side note Holly Holiday is getting kind of old, is it just me? I liked her first time around as much as I didn't like this one, ain't that some sh?!

#2

Annie's got cellulite. Bless her I love Anne Hathaway, and so much more now that I know she seats on tender material like the rest of us mortals.

On a side note my boss sent me an email the other day just for the sake of telling me that she saw Love and other drugs and she thought "the actress in the movie" looked identical to me. I wish, but that HAS happened and no one can take it away.

             

Pictures from the source of all that is holy popsugar.com