December Birchbox

birchbox1birchbox2

I think I’m going to have to stop getting Birchbox. While a box of beauty surprises is oddly satisfying, after a year of getting them I now have eight thousand tiny samples of face masks and serums.

WHEN does one use a serum?? And I’m sure I’m supposed to be putting on face masks more often than I do (never).

In my mind I want to be that girl who skips around her apartment sipping rosé waiting for her mud mask to dry, her satin robe gliding off her newly dipped-in-lotion body. But the reality is I don’t wash my makeup off before bed. Yeah, I said it.

I guess the silver lining is that now my bathroom has a travel-size section, which is easily the best aisle of Walgreens anyway.

Sam Petting Goats

SamGoatsgoat selfie

I woke up feeling like it was Christmas morning. My presents? Fuckin’ goats.

I’ve wanted to pet goats for awhile now, and I’m not afraid to admit that. I think they’re hilarious and awesome and just plain silly. So when I was the only adult in Muriel’s Ranch at the LA Zoo this weekend, I kept my head held high.

“Do you want to come in?” The attendant asked, looking to see if I had any children with me. I did not.

“Hell motherfucking yes I do.”

What did YOU do this weekend? Did you brush goats? Yeah. Didn’t think so.