begin by removing the endless amounts of crap from the top of the
dresser. You know what I mean…perfume bottles, empty sticks of
deodorant, loose bobby pins. Once all of the erroneous items have been
removed, I decide that maybe this would be a good time
to sort through the makeup. So, I park myself on the floor and start
testing the lipsticks…one tube at a time. When I feel that I
sufficiently look like a drunken circus clown, I decide to sort through
the eyeliner and makeup brushes to see what else can
be eliminated.
Wait, did I just find my pore extractor I thought had been lost in the
depths of hell? Why yes, yes I did. What better time than now to get
to work on those blackheads that have been wreaking havoc on my
complexion. Now keep in mind, I still have about 47
shades of lipstick on my mouth and the top of my hands…so why not add
fuel to the fire and uproot some clogged pores?
Get out of here, cats! Can’t you see I’m busy?
The cats looked at me as though I had hair of snakes. I didn’t know they could run so fast.
By this time, I’m still wearing 47 shades of lipstick and my face is so
red from the pore extractor that you’d think I dove headfirst into a 55
gallon drum of crimson Crayolas. Now, back to the dresser.
Oh look, I found my old tongue ring. I wonder if I can still…
Never mind. I’d have a difficult time explaining that one to my
doctor. With a half bleeding tongue, 47 shades of lipstick and a beet
red face, I’m fairly confident he’d have me committed.
Now it’s time to spray every bottle of perfume and see which scents pass the sniff test.
Cats, I told you to get out! You have five seconds or you’re going to smell like Britney Spears on a Cheetos binge.
As I resume dusting, I begin thinking about what a funny story this
would make. So, instead of finishing the dresser, here I am writing
about it.
Two hours later and I’m still not done.
