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a piece of work

One of the good/bad things about living in NYC is shopping for overpriced cosmetics at places like Sephora. These shops are insane, and you are now completely justified in hating me. For instance, I’m the type of person who has actually purchased lip plumper, in lieu of accomplishing anything remotely worthwhile or helpful. I’m pretty sure I’m the only person I know who does this. Gloss.com? Bliss.com? Been there. I can actually spend whole stretches of an afternoon pondering whether or not to change my base eyeshadow from brown-toned to mauve. One day, I may even have the power to match the names of make-up shades (Flirt, Speed, Catfight) to their actual colors (sheer metallic sterling lavender, baby blue with silver micro-glitter, nude mauve). Seriously, it’s no wonder why foreign nations are bombing us. Some days, the belief that I don’t deserve to live is overwhelming. Then I either kick something until it breaks…or I go shopping.

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