Sometimes you just have to throw on some lipstick that matches your sunburn and have a moment with your dog in front of the camera, amIright? Ziggy Stardust gets me. She's really good at cuddling lately, too. I think she rewards me for good behavior. Like, I took her running yesterday, so she didn't wake me up at 4am to poop in the fancy bushes and when my alarm went off, she continued to spoon with me through my 13 different snoozes. She hasn't even been freaking out about the skunks quite as much lately, and she's certainly not getting that from me. I hate those stinky funkmasters, but I don't know why they scare me so much especially since I have a history with possums and a tendency to chase mice when I'm drunk. Pretty sure this means I'm more afraid of stank than pain/rabies.
Speaking of irrational fears, I'm kind of a huge wuss when it comes to wearing lipstick. I may or may not have Googled, "What's the phobia of lipstick called" earlier and the answer may have been "lipstick phobia." Cool. The one fear that doesn't have an extraneous name and I'm choosing to blog about it. So I love colored lips and I admire people who rock them with confidence, but I get super self-conscience about it when I try to do it myself--especially when it's the middle of the day and it's not acceptable to let your drunken alter ego dance on tables (Rose is all about the lipstick). I never think twice about other chicks who wear it, so I have no idea why I'd assume others will look and me and think, "How DARE that harlot wear red lipstick to work?!" But I do, and it's unacceptable, so I've decided to conquer my pigmalabiaphobia (add it to UrbanDictionary, I dare you).
I bought two new colors and they're both loud, wonderful and need to be worn. Keep me in check, friends. My pigmalabiaphobia needs to be rid of once and for all, so call me out on my nude lips if need be. And until next time when maybe I'll have something of substance to write about, enjoy some tuneage, then go check out Brooke for an even cooler playlist.