CIA
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• My Beauty Routine

  

  Wait… did you guys hear? Cindy Crawford actually got older over the past 20 years.  HOW DARE SHE, THAT WENCH! Her un-retouched non-photoshopped pictures have surfaced, and no one knows what to think or do about Cindy actually allowing age to happen.  Lord save us from this confusion – can Cindy still be attractive and allow the laws of nature?!!

  What makes someone beautiful? Is it the symmetry of their face? Contours and angles aligning in flawless sacred geometry that would make Fibonacci weep from the mathematical precision? Or is it a really good beauty routine where you clip, inject, buffer, vacuum, shine, wax, sheen, and preen your various lady parts?

  As a woman, I’m supposed to be up on being attractive rituals, because you know… looking good is my value to society and all. I only have a few years left of meaning in my life before I wither away into total insignificance by allowing myself to admit mortality. GROSS! YUCK! NEVER!

  Here’s my problem: my ceremonial, getting myself looking the best I can sacraments are pretty subpar -almost to the point of pathetic. My mom is always trying to inspire me to participate in self-care observances and will say things like, “Toni, don’t squander your looks. Here is a Clarisonic for you to exfoliate with.” She’ll then hand me an electric broom for my face. I am sure this apparatus is great and I would see positive results if I pressed its bristles against my skin to sweep away pesky skill cells, but I can barely motivate myself to brush my teeth let alone my cheeks.

  Yet I have to say, my mom does look amazing. To be honest, she is a great example of what is possible if you were to say… DRINK THE BLOOD OF VIRGINS TO KEEP YOUNG?!! (Seriously, my mom looks crazy good and is obviously a murderous vampire who will probably someday eat my child). To keep up with appearances, my mom pretends her girlish glow is because of a commitment to her procedures, hence gentle suggestions like “don’t use dish soap as shampoo.” (Ummm pretty sure they all have suds Mom so what-ev-er).

  When I think about all the “chick” things I am supposed to do to be hot, I want to impale myself with ironic bang-cutting scissors. Half of the things that are expected of me are actual torture. I cannot do manicures. The sound of someone filing my nails is like CIA style cruelty. I mean, the government would probably make me get a “mani-pedi” naked while shoving assorted tahini flavored products up my ass, but the nail filing is what would push me over the edge. Even the thought of that sound makes my brain itch.

  Then I’m supposed to rip hair out my body at an alarming speed with steaming hot bee diarrhea? Shaving my legs once a season isn’t enough? I can’t let my armpit hair fluctuate between blowing in the wind and an army buzz cut? And stop wondering what is going on with my vagina, you pervert!

  Women who have the money then cut off body parts, suck some out, and then stuff the others with various toxic materials. The plastic surgery options one can get to improve imperfections range from a tucking your twatt into the shape of an om, to puffing up your mouth with collagen. Call me old fashioned, but maybe all four of your lips would be just fine if you left them alone.

  I also find the uniform of sexiness exceedingly uncomfortable. First, it is suggested I separate my butt cheeks with a lacy fabric. Maybe it is just me, but flossing my ass is even more irritating than my teeth (and my gums bleed every time I do that). Then I am supposed to press, lift, and smash my tits into an underwire bra. No no no, that cozy sports bra won’t do, because then I have a “uni-boob” which is even worse then a uni-brow. I circumvent this whole where-do-I-place-my-funbags situation by wearing a nursing bra. It may be conventionally unattractive, but at least it’s easy access.

  Don’t even get me started on skinny jeans and buttons. It’s like a corset for my abdomen to make sure I don’t eat anything on the rare occasion I need to sit down. Don’t worry about me everyone. I will just wear these tight pants, stand, and maybe have a sip of water. If you throw some heels into the mix then forget it – I am not going anywhere. I will literally be where you last left me because I cannot walk. Come to think of it, in the right outfit I am the perfect woman. I will keep my silly thoughts and opinions all to myself because I wont be able to talk simply because of the level of concentration it requires for me to cope with excessive hunger, stay balanced on stilts, and make sure my mascara doesn’t run from tears of pain.

  So I decided to record my beauty routine for one week, to see where I am at. In all honestly – is there any hope for me?

  Saturday: Take shower because seeing friends that evening. Wash face with random bar of soap stuck to the floor from my child molding it into a snowman. There is no hair conditioner; sooo whoops I have to buy that. Put Vitamin E oil on my forehead because I keep making faces and expressing emotion – further deepening wrinkles. Note to self, no more getting surprised. Also, smile less. Put on leggings, t-shirt, no bra, and sweatshirt… now I am ready to be around people.

  Sunday: Wake up wearing leggings, t-shirt, no bra and sweatshirt. I am already dressed because I slept in yesterday’s clothes. Morning routine accomplished. That night I brush teeth, and floss back right molar because a piece of kale is stuck there. Sleep in clothes.

  Monday: It’s a workday, so I change t-shirt. Gotta keep it classy. Keep leggings and sweatshirt going, but its cold so put pair of loose leggings over the other leggings. Morning completed. That night I forget to brush teeth.

  Tuesday: Swap leggings for another pair of leggings. The rest can stay. That night I brush my teeth because I am an adult and it’s been 24 hours.

  Wed: Wake up dressed and ready to go! Add nursing bra because it’s that kinda day. Night: brush teeth.

  Thursday: Change clothes to a NEW pair of leggings, a NEW T-shirt, but the same bra and sweatshirt. Put on hat because it’s cold – and my hair is dirty. Night: brush teeth.

  Friday: Wake up dressed. Nice. Night: Realize it has been 6 days since water has touched any part of my body besides my hands. Debate washing face. Write a note to myself to remind myself to wash my face more. Have a friend over, and tell her about my not washing my face. I wonder out loud if this strategy will hurt my goal to eliminate wrinkles, or aid it. Maybe it is all the face products that give you wrinkles in the first place? My friend informs me that none of her research has ever suggested to not wash face. After she leaves I spend too much time on Facebook looking at videos about aliens. Forget to wash face and brush teeth.

  Saturday: Take shower and wash face with same soap – but now it’s shaped like a deformed penis. Fuck… still no conditioner.

  (Check out my mom… tell me she is not killing it at 63! PS, that is my dad with her.)

  

  February 16, 2015 • Health, Musings, Women's Business • Views: 4296

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• Please Don’t Force Feed Me Up My Ass

  

  When I read the recent report on the CIA’s detention and interrogation strategies at Guantanamo Bay, I couldn’t believe our barbaric treatment of these people. Considering how often we go to war with nations because of “human rights violations,” the hypocrisy is sickenly thick and palpable. I am not sure how this can be expalained beyond blatant racism. We never treated Aryan Nation Nazi’s like we do Middle Eastern supposed “terrorists” – many of whom have never been proven guilty. Call me old fashioned, but torturing a citizen of the earth who might maybe be sorta kinda guilty is down right criminal.

  Am I missing something, or is the CIA unnervingly kinky. The whole report seriously reads like a really, really sinister “50 Shades of Grey.” Kind of like how I imagine the hard-core porno version “50 Shades of Grey Up Your Butt.”

  Of all the torture strategies articulated in the report, one of the more horrifying “techniques” was how the CIA force-fed a detainee up his ass. Although the “rectally infused” visual is incredibly disturbing, I also found the menu a particularly strange assssspect– a puree of hummus, pasta sauce, nuts, and raisins.

  Rectal infusion- a lovely infusion choice, indeed. Was there a garnish as well? What about truffle oil, or a dash of coriander? Why the raisins? Were they added to balance the acidity of the tomato sauce? What a charming idea to use sun kissed grapes to provide an alkalized concoction, so as not to create disparity in the colon.

  I would like to have been a fly on the wall in the room when the decision was made to put a man in a “forward faced position with head lower than torso” to insert pulverized cuisine in his anus. How did they decide who prepared the pounded sustenance and who administered the “meal.” Once the plan was established, did everyone circle up, put their hands in the middle, pump once, and say “GO TEAM!” ??

  Beyond the categorical cruelty of this, given that torture has not been proven to be an adequate or even effective method to extract information makes this a truly INSANE action. It’s been documented that people put in such horrendous situations often tell their tormentors what they want to hear, as opposed to the truth. I can’t imagine why — except maybe so THEY WILL STOP GETTING FUCKING TORTURED. But I am not a psychologist or anything so what do I know?

  According this most recent report, the CIA frequently tortured its prisoners before even attempting a civil interrogation. That would be like if I came up to you while you were eating a sandwich, knocked you over so you smacked your head on the ground, pinned your chest so you couldn’t breathe, and starting pissing in your eye while demanding a bite. Wouldn’t you be like “uhhhhh… you could have just asked?”

  Considering we spend upwards of one trillion dollars a year on “national security,” I am pretty fucking confused as to why we are using these archaic strategies to obtain information. If you want to have nightmares for the next month, check out some of the DARPA’s projects (The Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency). The military is coming up with some seriously advanced shit to spy on, kill, and control people. In addition to the many robots DARPA has created to mimic human walking, throw cinder blocks, run on four legs at cheetah speed, climb trees, grasp objects, kill targets…. DARPA has also announced projects that include mapping the human brain, trying to create a physical thinking brain for robots, computers that can think for themselves, tracking rat brains over the Internet, real-life Avatar projects, autonomous robots, electronic tattoos and pills swallowed to authenticate online access instead of passwords, mapping the neuroscience of the “fight or flight response,” mind controlling squids…. and much much more.

  Then of course there is the nano technology spy drone that is the size of a fucking mosquito. Isn’t that surveillance enough to get the information you are looking for? Is torturing humans really superior to chemtrails that control our minds? Where is all this money going if not to KNOW EVERYTHING ABOUT EVERYTHING?

  Come on CIA. With a trillion dollars to find whatever shit you are looking for – I believe you can do better than a derrière soufflé

  

  December 10, 2014 • Current Events, Musings, Political Banter • Views: 6771

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