CoverGirl you failed me again. When will a girl ever learn?

Now ladies, have you ever dreamed of the perfect lipstick/gloss. Something that goes on easily, wears all day, and doesn’t have any taste? Something that will gently accentuate those luscious lips of yours? Personally I am not the best lipstick wearer. I usually start out strong: lip liner (the same shade as the lipstick!!), lipstick, and finally top it off with a nice shot of gloss to keep it smooth. But I can never remember to reapply. Also, I had to limit my lip enhancement material to NONE in the summer due to my convertible. I know, I know, Amy of Lizzie in Progress is probably crying blasphemy about now but seriously; I can’t rock lipstick or gloss with my hair flying about.

And that’s when I saw it. It was like a mirage, an answer to my prayers. CoverGirl Lipstain claimed:

“…give lips a beautiful, lightweight flush of color that won't come off, lasting for hours without the heavy look or feel of an ordinary lipstick…”

I thought this product would be perfect for me, especially when I roll with the roof down in my car. I stopped at the local Rite Aid, and purchased a tube of Everbloom Bliss (#400).

It was anything but “bliss.”

First let me start with the positives of the product:

The Color – Reviews on the CoverGirl website state that the color “none of which resembled the colors advertised” or “color was harsh” or “It is NOT a "flush" of color.” This I disagree with. I really like the color that I purchased and thought it was true to the label and bottle.

That is it. There was only one.

Yet, there are so many things wrong with this product:

The Applicator – It is like a felt tip pen. It goes on smoothly yet it seems to dry out as you are applying it to your lips. WTF?

The Taste – OK so now you lippies have been officially stained and the first thing you notice is the harsh chemical taste. For me it is almost like a burning sensation on the tip of my tongue. Yuck!

The Sustainability – I am calling shenanigans on CoverGirl. Shenanigans I say! There is no staining involved. It goes on and looks great for about ½ hour, that is, if you don’t lick your lips (but why would you, it tastes like crap). There are no staining qualities about this product. And heaven forbid you try to put a gloss over it to give it a nice sheen, it will just take the stain off completely.

So in the end, save your $8+ dollars and don’t buy this product. There are no "staining" qualities in this product. All in all Lipstain is a wonderful concept, but a poorly executed concept.

Good luck in your quest for the perfect lipstick/gloss!

Your Daily Barista

** Image taken from CoverGirl's website:
http://www.covergirl.com/products/product.jsp?productId=outlast_lipstain

I Live In a Constant Seinfeld Episode - Exhibit C

On Valentines Day this past year, my mom and I had a ton of errands to run. Romantic, I know. While we were out we decided to have a nice lunch before heading back home. We live off of a main road and have many eatery choices. Diners, fast food, chain steakhouses, and even a flashy 1950’s style soda shop, all of which were bustling with "day daters."

I told my mom that I would like to go someplace different for a change. She recommended a tiny Middle Eastern place in the middle of one of our older strip malls. She and my father had gone there a few times and had a nice experience. Anyone who knows me, know that I love supporting local businesses. So naturally, I was all for it. I should say that when my parents first told me about it. I thought “A Middle Eastern restaurant in TWP? Really? Well this isn’t going to last. I can’t image any of these soccer moms eating falafels.”

Cinderella Sababa is an unassuming restaurant that opened a few years ago. Not much from the outside, beige curtains in the window hiding the dimly lit dining room. Once inside you realize that it is the type of place that leaves the light off until customers come in order to save electricity.

The very enthusiastic owner greeted us upon entering. He quickly sat us at “any table [we] would like” and handed us menus. The dining room was filled with the most odd décor. For example the booth that we chose had some kind of out door wrought iron terrace made for outdoor use. I couldn't help but think, "this place needs a little bit more of a Middle Eastern feel to it. After all it is the only restaurant of its kind in Township."

The owner was the most perfect realization of Babu Bhatt from Seinfeld. He was sweet, accommodating. He asked us what we liked and pointed out the house specialties. He was also very complementary to my mother and I, telling us how beautiful we were (I was secretly hoping he would say “You are very kind” but he didn’t.)

After we ordered our food: I had a mixed grill kebab, my mom a falafel sandwich. He insisted on giving us a sampling of our food prior to bringing it to our table to make sure it was to our liking. And I must say food was so flavorful and delicious and the Baklava - to die for!

When we left, I felt a little sad. I couldn’t help be wonder when his next customer would arrive, if ever. I felt so happy to support this local business I thought, “My mother was right, I am a good person.”

Here is the supporting evidence:
The Cafe

Season 3, Episode 7 – Aired: 11/6/1991

Journals from a Past Life

I had a great idea the other day, or so I thought. Every so often, I would take excerpts from my old paper journals and translate them here to the 3 o’clock Coffee blog. These journals chronicle my college years, roughly from 2000-2003.

The journals hold many stories. Some are good. Towards the end, most are sad. There are collages of photo journalistic images I found inspirational, funny clippings from newspapers and magazines, even some poignant cookie prophesies. I am not ashamed about what I wrote over those years, nor do I regret any of it. However, I have found that many of the entries aren’t blog friendly.

I have named names.

Rereading these entries, the real meaning behind the stories has long eluded me but I can only assume that they are based on some basic information I had learned that day.


Some entries just don’t make any sense: “10-9-01: Notes or Marinette, I never got this email. He is a futurist. ‘ANAMONTAPIEA.’” Seriously like what the hell does that mean? I can only assume that it is from one of my many Art History classes, since I tended to use my journals for note taking. During class I used write crappy poems by writing down every 3 words from the lecture. I was also an aspiring writer. I found the first chapter of a story I was writing. It starts out with 2 sisters. One sister is asking the other if it was OK to date her ex-boyfriend. I wonder where I was going with that story, it sounds kinda interesting.

I wrote movie reviews, book reviews (after reading Motley Crue: The Dirt, I must have felt bad for Nikki Sixx. There are 3 whole pages on him), comments on current affairs (9/11), sketches for my classes at UArts, and much (too much) rambling about some dude name John (who apparently worked at a camera store).

So what do you do with old journals? One entry stated, “I always thought my journals would make a good movie” but as I read through them now, I notice they are only the laughable dreams and pent up anger of a person who no longer exists. They aren’t funny anymore. It seems that I am missing out on the inside joke of my younger self.

I am not sure what I to with them. I don’t want them any more. They conjure up feelings that I am not sure I should relive. Bitterness and anger are so prevalent in one, which makes it painful to read. But I feel bad to just throw them away. For better or for worse, they are moments in my life.

Your Daily Barista

If you don't tip, I will spit in your grocery bag. Wait, what?

Tip jars are getting out of hand. I am finding them popping up in the most inappropriate places as of late. Just because you are doing something for me does not mean I am obligated to tip you. I am sorry some jobs are just that, YOUR JOB! That is what you get paid to do whether it is ringing me up at Jiffy Lube or working behind the counter at a 7 Eleven (I have seen jars at both locations). I classify a job worthy of tipping being one in which the person (or persons) is doing me a direct favor. For instance, I tip my hair stylist, the dudes that wash my car at White Glove, not to mention the wait staff at restaurants. They are all doing a service for me that, honesty; I really don’t want to do.

Last summer while Captain and I were vacationing at the shore, I had to run into a small seaside supermarket. While in line at the checkout I saw a tiny tip jar that read “Vacation Fund” or a similarly trite statement.

Um….No! How about no?

You are working in a grocery store. You were hired to scan groceries. Period. That's your job. You knew this going into it. If you wanted to earn extra money, do something that is worthy of tipping. Don’t just stand there cracking your gum and filing your nails waiting on your idiotic customers to place their loose change in your little tin can. I am willing to bet you get paid minimum wage as opposed to my waitress at the Pancake House across the street. She is dependent on the generosity of her company’s guests in order to pay her bills.

The idea of putting out a tip jar at a job that doesn’t require tipping made me think, “I wonder if I could make some extra cheddar if I put out a tip jar?” If others have the audacity to expect money for doing nothing in particular, then why not me. So starting tomorrow, I will be placing a tip jar next to my computer with some clever note about starving artists or beer funds taped to the front.

Now what to spend the extra funds on...

8 year old + movie = cuteness

This past Memorial Day I had the opportunity to take my 8-year-old cousin, J5, to the movies.

Ok, It was just a pure co-winkie-dink. I had wanted to see Night at the Museum 2 but felt funny going alone. As side note: my father was in fact that creepy person. He saw the first movie on a cruise ship and didn’t think it was strange he was the only adult without a minor. He reason for going to the movie...free popcorn.

With that little nugget festering in the back of my head, I thought it wouldn’t be as creepy if I brought a kid with me. So where does one find a kid when you need one. My nephew (L.C.) is far to small to see a movie, so he was out. When the roomies returned from the shore in the late morning, they brought up (in passing) that my cousin mentioned that he wanted to see it. So being a kick-ass cousin with ulterior motives that I am, I volunteered to take him.

I haven’t experienced a kid at the movies in a long time. And it was such a delight. Although the movie was entertaining (it wasn’t as near as good as the first), I found it was far more enjoyable to watch his reaction to the special effects, his favorite were the talking Einstein Bobble Heads.

J5 was on the edge of seat for most of the movie. His mouth hanging open in awe of walking dinosaur, the mischievous monkey, and the airplanes flew across the screen. I will say some of the effects were pretty impressive. I would have loved to see more of the jumping into paintings and less of the singing cherubs. My favorite effect was the animated balloon dog by Jeff Koons.

The most precious moment of the afternoon came right before the climax. It was a simple a joke about Archie Bunker’s chair. The head villain, played by Hank Azaria (TV’s own Moe Szyslak) proclaimed, that he wasn’t sure whom Archie Bunker was but that he did have the most comfortable throne. The parents (and cousins) in the crowed all laughed and J5 turned to me with a perplexed look.

“I don’t get it.” He loudly whispered to me.
Whispering back, I said, “oh J, one day you will, and you will laugh. I promise.”

Your Daily Barista

I Live in a Constant Seinfeld Episode - Exhibit B

Today for lunch I decided to eat something that I haven’t had since Christmas, a Cosi Signature Salad. I love those friggin things. Cosi, like most sandwich shops, have a discount/member card that you get swiped with every purchase. It keeps track of what you order and you are awarded points towards free food and drinks.


I lost my card. I normally wouldn’t be pissed about it; however, I had earned a free entrée. Since I had/have no money, I could have cashed in on that deal.

I only bring this up as Exhibit B on how my life is like a Seinfeld episode. You may remember the Festivus episode entitled “The Strike” where "Elaine's use of a fake phone number backfires when she loses a card that will entitle her to a free sandwich."*

Here is the supporting evidence:
"The Strike"
Original air date: Aired: 12/18/1997 - Season 9, Episode 10


Here is a clip to hold you over until find the actual clip.

Your Daily (and slightly broke) Barista

*http://www.tv.com/Seinfeld/The+Strike/episode/2406/summary.html
http://www.getcosi.com/default.asp

Decidedly Decent Deeds Done Cheap

As I have said before I live a very Seinfeldesque life, which in itself is a very selfish, egocentric lifestyle. Don’t get me wrong; I am not a bad person. I was raised right. I was taught that I should treat others, as I would like to be treated.

However, as I got older I realized that people are selfish, mean creatures. I lost count of how many men (in my own office building) never let women on or off the elevators first. Once I even bore witness to a woman neglecting to hold a door open for another woman pushing a stroller resulting in the door slamming into the stroller. Don’t even get me started on the lack of “Please” and “Thank you” I come across on a daily basis. I just felt that helping out my fellow man (and woman) went a bit unappreciated.

Today my icy heart has begun the long process of defrosting and I did something that I normally wouldn’t do, I gave a woman boarding the bus change for a $5. I generally don’t like rummaging through my purse in search of something nor do I like whipping out cash in a crowded place. But I genuinely felt sorry for her and I knew I had the change. She spoke very broken English and seemed very grateful.

Oh and I said “Bless You” to a woman who sneezed in line at Starbucks this morning. Twice.

I am on a goddamn roll.

I kinda like the new, helpful me. There better be an old lady in need of assistance crossing Broad Street tomorrow.

Your Daily Barista