I Windex’d my magnifying mirror this morning. From now on I will only interact with cataracts and glaucoma patients.
I’m also putting back the layer of dust I removed and adding an extra layer to all of my mirrors. Then I’m overloading the electrical system in my house with high- powered electronics because imagine how hot I’d look if the lights were in a perpetual state of brownout? And if the house burns down, who cares! I look even better in fire light.
If you’re in your 30s and have two babies who refuse to let you sleep or wash your face or drink a hot cup of coffee and occasionally force-feed you stale goldfish they find in the couch, and if you work full time in an industry filled with 20-somethings, I recommend that you do the same thing.
And maybe even strap a fog machine to your back–it’s your best chance at achieving that fuzzy, soft glow Cybil Shepard always had in Moonlighting.
No, my young, fresh-faced friend, it’s not. And, I hate you.
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