Smooth sailing

Well I didn't end up going to Persephone on Tuesday, owing to my friend's baby's low-grade fever, but she did drop off a fabulous gift: stuff from a magazine beauty closet. It is good that I do not work at a magazine with a beauty closet, or as a movie star for that matter, because when I see free stuff I go into a bit of a frenzy. Only being Catholic, I feel guilty about that frenzy and try to hold myself back. So I'm like a slobbering rabid doggy but one on a leash. And at the other end of that leash is Jesus.

Questionable metaphors aside, I go crazy for free stuff and would end up taking everything.

Anyhoo as a gag gift given my advanced age, she snagged me some wrinkle cream from Estee Lauder. I looked it up online and the stuff costs 80 bucks. That's 80 bucks I'm rubbing all over my face until the bottle is bone-dry, thank you very much. I'll let you know if it works. As it is, in the days since I've turned 35, I've been goober-eyed at by a waiter and hit on by a bookstore employee (after I said in response to there no longer being a public restroom "it's a sad day for those of us in the world with tiny bladders" he told me he was sorry but that was an adorable thing to say) who can't be more than 22 years old.

And that's pre-wrinkle-cream application.