Eye Don't Get It

There's a lot of beauty trends out there these days - you've got your fake tans, your gel manicures, your ombre hair coloring and a billion other ways of beautifying one's outsides - but the one that confuses me the most; the one that blows my mind; the one that makes me question where the human race is headed...is eyelash extensions. Eyelash extensions?!?! When did mascara stop being enough? There are over 50 types of mascara out there, each promising an enhancing quality more superior than the last, and suddenly that's not enough? Suddenly thicker, longer, more voluminous lashes via a few quick flicks of the wrist is too "I can't even" for today's happening ladies?!

Here's my qualms with eyelash extensions:
1.) It's not cheap. Sure there are $10 options, but a legit session can cost you about $75. Which leads me to my next qualm...
2.) It's not permanent. You have to perform "eyelash upkeep!" Ain't nobody got time for that. Hell, ain't nobody got the shekels for that - at $75 bucks a pop, every 6 weeks, you're looking at about $700 a year for 10mm of hair! Which leads me to my next qualm...
3.) They're not even that noticeable! I mean, it's literally 10mm in length and people often still have to resort to mascara to enhance their synthetic lashes even further.

What the what, people! Maybe if we band together and promise to never judge each other by one's eyelash length and volume, we can kill the need for such a silly industry. Humans are weird.

Sometimes, at Weird Times, I Feel Like a Grownup

Have you ever been in the midst of some menial, everyday task that you've completed a thousand times before, but on this one particular occasion, for whatever reason, a wave of adulthood washes over you? Allow me to provide an example:

The other day I was driving home from work. I was coming upon the gas station near my house and I thought to myself, "better fill up so I can drive straight to work in the morning." No big deal, right? It's just gas. Anyway,  I pulled in, popped my gas tank door, swiped my credit card, selected my grade, and began filling up. As I sat in my car, waiting for that clicky-clunk noise to jolt me back from my daze, I drifted off into thoughts of my adultness. I made a pro-active decision to fill up now, rather than in the morning when I could be in a rush; I paid for the gas on a credit card that I responsibly pay off in full each month, with money I make at a job I am good at. I even emptied the trash from my cup-holders and cleaned my windshield.

Now I've completed this exact task at least a thousand times in my life, but for whatever reason, on this occasion, I gave myself a pat on the back for being a responsible, upstanding member of adult society. I then went home and had Ritz crackers with cream cheese and a Diet Coke for dinner like any responsible adult.