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Your face is a LIE!

About a week ago, my friend, Jules, used me as a model for her mom’s jewelry store.  I never had such proper treatment before.  And I never had that much makeup being put on to one single face…my face.

Jules, a MAC makeup artist, did a great job regardless.  It was crazy! I never knew that my own dork face was capable of such impeccable hotness, all thanks to Jules and her fine makeup artistry.  Here are some photos of the shoot, some of them are “actual” shoots and others were from our regular cameras mostly for fun:

Boy do I love makeup.  Isn’t it great how putting a little can accentuate features?  And putting lots of it on can really altar a woman’s face in drastic measures, capable of deceiving men? And speaking of men, I wonder if they–who are attracted to women that always wear caked-on powder, caked-on lipgloss, caked-on eyeshadow, and whatever other form of cosmetic they’d put on to their heart’s content–are aware of what might be underneath the cake-laden face.

After a couple of hours of shooting, I drove home with the makeup on.  On my way there, some guy driving next to me stared and whistled at me, and made flattering remarks.  Usually, this doesn’t happen.   And this whole time, I couldn’t help but to think, “If he only knew…”  If he only knew that the glossy lips, the rosey cheeks, the long lashes weren’t hereditary.  If he only knew that I really don’t wear makeup unless I go out for a special occasion or that I’m with my boyfriend (sorry Matt!).

If he only knew that he was actually whistling to this:

Lol

How a creep hits on you.

It was my second day of school today and I was headed to the library to finish some work.  I walked in, saw an empty table and took it.  As I was ready to write, this thin, crooked-teeth, morning-haired Asian guy walked up to me with this confident yet ‘credibly disturbing grin on his face.  Already,  I knew this guy was some kind of psycho. Was it a if-I-can’t-have-her-then-no-one-else-can kind of psycho? Or a I’m-in-love-with-her-but-I-never-met-her-before psycho? Or a combination of both? I don’t know, but gawd, I hope I don’t find out.

“’Scuse me, is this seat available? Mind if I take it?” He puts his hand over the top of the chair that was next to mine.

“No, go ahead.”

He pulls the chair, sits in it, and looks at me.  “You thought I was going to take it, huh? Ha ha.”

“Oh wow yeah, you got me,” I looked at him, couldn’t help but glance at his teeth.  They were like baby teeth, almost jagged at the bottom and his little baby canines were pointing towards each other. Creepy I thought. I then tried to focus on my paper, to insinuate to him that I wasn’t interested in talking, or in him for that matter.

“Name’s Tim,” he puts his hand over my paper suggesting that I shake it.

“Tiff,” I shaked it (ew). I try to look at my paper again.

As I was thinking about what to write for my paper, clearly not wanting to converse, he starts to fiddle with my keys that were on the table.

“I just want to take your keys, go to every car in the parking lot and try to open them.  And once I find your car I’m going to take it to the pound.”

(^He either said that, or  “I’m going to pound it”.  Not sure, was too weirded out to remember the exact quote)

“Oh…wow,” That’s all I could think of at the moment, I mean, what can you honestly say to that? I was at loss and was actually starting to get scared for my life.

“Ha ha I bet you think I’m a real funny guy, huh?”

“No not really…I was thinking of something else,” I really, really wanted this Tim guy to go away but without being an ass. “No offense, but I have some work to do so I really can’t talk to you.”

“W-w-wait wait, you seem like a very interesting person–and I’m sensing a really good vibe here,” He scans my body, meticulously, with his psychopathic pervy eyes from head to toe, toe to head. I cross my arms, hoping that it would somehow shield him from checking me out, “I want to talk to you, get to know you more.”

“Well…eh if you bump into me again on campus you can say ‘hi’,” I shrugged, “that’s the best I can do for ya.”

“How about I call you?” He leans in forward.

“I don’t think my boyfriend would like that.”

“But we can be just friends.”

“Still, you’re a stranger to me, I just met you a minute ago, I’m not going to give you my number.”

“We’re just friends.”

“We’re not friends, and I don’t want you to call me.”

“Is it because you’re insecure?”

With a louder, border-line booming OH NO YOU DIDN’T tone, I responded, “Insecure? It’s because I’m not that trusting, and I would never give you my number anyway because you’re coming on too strong,” I’m sure people in the library heard me.

“Fine, I’ll let you do your homework.” He walks away looking rather pissed, like a little girl who didn’t get the barbie she wanted.

After that incident I finally had the chance to do finish my paper in peace…ish. I was actually very much paranoid the whole time. As I writing, I was expecting the weird fucker to come back and attack me from behind, pulling a chunk of my hair out just so he can make a hair doll and masturbate to it everyday.

Thankfully, that didn’t happen, but yeah, he’s a creepy little sucker ain’t he?

The boypren exposed!

Some of you guys have asked about who my new boyfriend was, so let me just embarrass him by discreetly posting a photo of the hunk of meat…

POW! Yes that’s him-NO not the freak with wings but the cutie on the left. Some stats about Matt:

Pros:  He can tolerate my constant burping and belching, but I’m holding in my farts…for now .  He is about as geeky as I am, though probably a lot geekier.  He plays the guitar.  He speaks English, French, and LOLcat fluently. He knows how to beatbox. He likes zombies and video games.

We go to fun and exciting events together such as attending concerts, zombie walks, conventions: E3, Comic-Con, and soon Blizzcon.   And most importantly, we go on quests and fight big bad monsters together on World of Warcraft just about every night.  Romantic? I think so.

Cons: He enjoyed the Dawn of the Dead remake more than Land of the Dead, and he needs work on impersonating Arnold Shwartzenagawera.

I think I can live with that.

My summer kind of kicks ass.

Will update more on life later, for now, two very important things of kickassery:

1. I went to Comic-Con International in San Diego for my second time, and I’ve finally did what I’ve always wanted to do…costume play! Yeah, that’s right, I’m a grown-up and I dressed up for a geek convention…and I liked it.

I was dressed up as the female counterpart of Kakashi from Naruto.  My buddy, Pris, was dressed as the female Joker (her makeup looked friggen’ SICK), and my other buddy, Jason, was also a Naruto character.  The two other guys, Mina (Pris’s fiance) and Matt (my boyfriend), were dressed up as humans. Original? I think so.

I had a blast.  I saw other cool geeks dressed up.  I saw lots of cool gizmos and gadgets.  And since I was dressed up, a lot of people took photos with me.  There was a point where I was alone, and just out of the blue, people, in large groups, were taking photos of me, complimenting on my costume and my red “sharingan” contact.  I never had this kind of “celebrity” treatment before, and I ain’t gotta lie, it felt kind of nice to be noticed and to have the flash going off in your face as if you were getting mauled by the paparazzi.

The downside of this experience was not being able to go to a panel, namely The Big Bang Theory sitcom.  Also, my ninja mask.  I was sweating profusely in there.  And I wore the mask prior to the convention so much (for fun) that it loosened up, and I had to tape it inside during the event. Gah.

All in all, it was fun, and I got to spend it with my closest friends.  I certainly can’t wait to attend and dress up for Comic-Con 2010. Shwing!

2. Last night, I had my sister cut a huge portion of my hair so I can give it away.  My new do is very bold and obviously, very drastic, but I’m really in love with my new haircut.  It’s different!

Do I miss it?

Not even.  Hell, I’d even cut it up eyes, but since my face is kind of prominent with a bit of a masculine touch, people might mistaken me for a dude, or a lesbian.

Proof, if proof were needed.

WOAH! Haven’t blogged in a while.

(Blame it on summer break. I’ve been taking complete advantage of it.

Blame it on my newly fresh boyfriend. Kind of weird to say “my boyfriend” now since I’m a noob at being a first-time girlfriend.

And blame it on the goose. That is all.)

I don’t have time to update my blog with the usual lengthy entries…but I do have time to post that picture in Vegas I’ve been wanting to post!

To make a long story short, I went to Vegas with a group of girls I didn’t know (except for one) for a bachelorette party.  One of the girls, the oldest one of the bunch, didn’t like me at all.  She would sometimes say some pretty insulting things to me, but would translate them into more of a funny and joking manner so the rest of the girls wouldn’t think any of it.  I wouldn’t find it rude had she did the same to the rest of the girls, but I noticed I was the only one who was getting picked on by her.

I don’t know what the reason is, but shit, who cares, I found an amazing photo that proves she wants me out of the picture (literally) and it’s pretty funny:

So the broad who doesn’t like me is the one who is taking the photo.  How do I  know this was intentional and malicious?

1. She doesn’t like me.

2. She was sober when this photo was taken.

3. Look how much negative/extra space is at the top. I could have easily been part of the photo if she would just angle it down like a normal human being should.

4. And most importanly, it’s how she took the photo:

If you look closely, at her reflection, you can see how retarded she looks at attempting to “unintentionally” cut me out of the photo.

Notice where the camera is positioned from her head. Notice the angle of her face. Notice how far she is bending her neck back so that she is facing the ceiling instead of the group of girls.

Way to go asshole, this is the dumbest photo I have ever seen. Even a monkey with down syndrome can take a better photo that logically makes more sense.

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