Buttaface.

I would like to preface this post by clarifying that I have not taken this digital vow of silence to re-invent myself as a fucking beauty blogger. I haven’t written an article in nearly a decade mostly because I am at the point in my life where I am afraid to have my thoughts in written form. It’s a lawsuit waiting to happen…

I am easing back into sharing more content because I am a real over achiever and so sick of listening to myself via audio (shout out to The Bitch Bible podcast) SO like the basic bitch dumbfuck I am #selflove I decided to share some skincare regimen because after a Botox consultation gone wrong (too risky so close to my wedding date) I have had to explore alternate pursuits to remove the fucking crevasses rivaling the Appalachian mountain trails on my forehead…

Like my flaming homosexual husband always says, “Don’t blame the artist, blame the canvas…” or as my favorite fire crotch housewife Caroline Manzo once said, “You can put lipstick on a pig, it’s still a pig” (ehem Danielle Staub). Because I bankrupt myself last month buying a pink Gucci bomber jacket unconsciously at 4:18am that is both amazing and hideous at the same time, I have turned to alternative budget skincare products and developed a FAIL PROOF routine I had to share with my bitches.

  1. Ice roll your fucking face (too many martinis = puffy).
  2. Wash your fucking face.
  3. Exfoliate your fucking face.
  4. Steam your fucking face.
  5. Put a mask on your fucking face.
  6. Rinse your fucking face.
  7. Tone your fucking face.
  8. Moisturize your fucking face.

This is all pretty standard. The real crux of this post is not some stupid step by step (you’re smart enough to figure that out) it’s the products. Not to sound dramatic, I’d sell my future child for a facial steamer. It is one of the best things that has ever happened to me. My skin has never been better. The day you order this steamer is the first day of the rest of your life. Sometimes when I am feeling wild and fucking alive, I infuse my facial steamer with rose water or my toner and think that if Leo Dicaprio ever propositioned me for sex it would be solely because I’ve had a really amazing face steam… So just let that marinade.

I am in no way a product junkie. I refuse to spend excess money on products because I am both cynical AND Jewish and would rather buy clothes. Your face is your base! Find all the products I swear by CLICK HERE!

x J

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Beauty Tips I Learned From Watching The Real Housewives

When you think of pioneer women of beauty trends, lust worthy weaves and day drinking in faux lashes it’s hard not to immediately think of The Real Housewives. As a passionate and unapologetic aficionado of the franchise, I have learned many a lesson from these dynamic women.

Wigs R Us. One of the great things about being a woman is the opportunity to experiment with our look. Kim Zolciak taught us that wigs are for everyone and a hell of a lot easier than busting our ass on a blow dry. While Kim’s early synthetic wigs were less than appealing, she later redeemed herself with a wig collection to die for. The housewives show us that a weave can make all the difference, just make sure it’s tight. And remember, clip on bangs are NEVER a good idea.

Faux lashes are a girl’s best friend. Apparently being a Real Housewife requires wearing mink lashes to the gym. What kind of lash glue are they using? Carpenter’s glue? The ladies love their lashes and are rarely seen on camera without them. But how does one maintain this level of glam? The secret is sleeping on your back. Whether you have to tie all your limbs to the bed posts like you are having an exorcism or putting bricks on the sides of your body, sleep like a corpse and you will wake up with perfect lashes.

Contouring is the new rhinoplasty. Melissa Gorga vehemently insists that her slenderized nose was NOT the result of going under the knife but proper shading. To be clear, I don’t believe Mrs. Gorga for a fucking meatball. That bitch got one hell of a nose job. However, a proper contour and highlight truly can give you a post-surgery nose sans the procedure bills and hush money to your surgeon.

Tan with caution. While the housewives spend their days lunching alfresco and jet setting to exotic locales, most of us sit under fluorescent lighting quarantined to a cubicle. Housewives live for a good tan. Tanning beds (Danielle Staub), natural sun or the popular spray tan? So many options! If you can’t tone it, tan it. But think Yolanda Foster’s Malibu glow and not Amber Marchese Doritos orange.

A frosty lipstick CAN get you fired. Peggy Tanous, Alexis Bellino and Adrienne Maloof were all pioneer women of the daytime frosty lip. Subsequently, they were all fired. Some would say their termination was due to lack of personality; I blame the opalescent sheen of their lip color. I’ll just say it… it looks tacky. Unless you are dressing up as Romy or Michelle, just say no.

Less is more. Ugh. I know… So boring and wholesome #kimfields. After all the shading, gluing and glossing sometimes the best thing about being a REAL real housewife is the luxury of living au natural. Like Caroline Manzo once prolifically said, “You can put lipstick on a pig, it’s still a pig.” And hopefully that lipstick is not fucking frosted.

My Cuntry Tis of Thee.

I have learned a lot about myself whilst living in London. I have learned that drinking everyday does in fact NOT make you an alcoholic, just a much happier person with more regular bowel movements (I’m serious – instant vacation constipation solution). Also, white strips clearly have not made their way across the pond… tea stains people. But I would have to say that the true takeaway from my time abroad is that I have absolutely no shrivel of elegance, manners or social graces.

I have always considered my nonchalant cursing, harmless rape jokes and mild racism very charming and ironically hilarious in the homeland. God knows my main way of bonding with strangers is giving unsolicited updates on my current digestive state and I will admit, it totally works. People find me odd, unfiltered and 83% of them even applaud me for being so “real”. Today I came to the harsh realization that although I am in a country where I speak the language, I may not be translating.

My day started with a quick trip to the pub aka my living room. The great thing about traveling for an extended period of time is that you are still technically on “vacation” so drinking during the day is acceptable. I have convinced myself that drinking with almost every meal is helping me avoid any type of food poisoning or airborne germ ingestion because alcohol kills germs therefore keeping me healthy. I love myself for this logic. After a cheeky pint and Scotch egg, I got my bloated ass on a fucking bike to pedal off the fleshy side carriages growing around my waist. Let it be known that I have almost died 38 times since I have been here on fucking foot. I ride a bike like someone who has cerebral palsy, a glass eye and a small case of the downs. Flailing limbs, gasping for breath, rosaceous red face. No one is safe.

17 minutes in I decided it was time for a break and I moseyed into a place for high tea a friend had recommended. Walking into any London restaurant in Lulu Lemon leggings is almost the same as announcing over a PA system that you are a stock-girl at Wal-Mart and go on lots of cruises… not chic. Luckily, I don’t give two fucks and have taken my love for ironic work out attire to the United Kingdom. I asked the cunty hostess for a table for one and she gave me an up down that made me feel like Vivian not being allowed to shop on Rodeo Drive. She told me she was unable to seat me because I was violating dress code…. She pointed to a sign that read “No Trainers”. I immediately responded “Oh honey, this ain’t a training bra. I need serious underwire for these d-cups or it would look like I am hiding extra large scotch eggs in my waist band if you catch my drift” while I made a super inappropriate hand gesture miming my low hanging boobs. I thought and still think this is HILARIOUS. Cunty McCuntingham, Duchess of Cuntville did not think so.

I told her that technically my “trainers” (translation: sneakers) were Miu Miu and probably worth more than all her fucking pretentious internal organs and I wasn’t leaving until I spoke with a manager. Begrudgingly I was seated at a corner table by the dirty dishes, moved from said table twice and then finally ordered myself a high tea spread. Soon they brought out a variation of utensils, dishware, condiments and glassware that overwhelmed me. So many fucking spoons. I blame my parents for pretty much everything, but I especially blame them for never enrolling me in cotillion. I was served my tea with some weird strainer mechanism that looked like something I would find at my gynecologists office… here are the following Google searches from my 3 hour high tea.

“Is it rude to be on your phone at high tea?”

“How many calories are in a scone?”

“Do people in London take food home from restaurants”

“How do you know if you have a tapeworm?”

“Where does Emma Bunton live?”

“Tazer guns in London”

“Miu Miu sneakers”

“Jackie Schimmel”

“Easy diuretic recipes for one”

“Is hair tinsel still in?”

“Justin Bieber penis pictures”

“In what countries do people eat dogs”

“Perks of kale enemas”

“Jackie Schimmel” (yes, again)

After a pot of Earl Grey, 5 finger sandwiches, some lemon mousse, a glass of champagne, a macaron and enough death glares to make me self implode I started to feel like Shrek’s slutty sister. One thing you should know about me is that I do not leave food on my plate. I would like to say it’s for some political reasons, like starving kids in Africa, but it’s really just cause I am Jewy as fuck. Baby leaves no finger sandwich behind.

I flagged down my waitress and asked her if she had a to-go box so I could take the rest of my pastries home. She looked at me like I asked her to give insert a rectal syringe up my ass. Repulsed. “Um… I will go ask.” Okay… I watched her first go to Cuntella Deville (the hostess) whisper to her then motion in my direction. Then the hostess went to what looked like a manager and started laughing repeating whatever tragic suggestion she had just heard and cocked her head towards my table.

The manager came to my table and alerted that they do not provide take-away materials. “Do you just have like some saran wrap or something?” Too far. “No ma’am.” “Foil? A paper towel? A spare hairnet?” “Sorry ma’am we don’t do take away, most restaurants in London don’t.” Seriously?

I was instantly catapulted into a defining paradox. I had two options, two destinies, two kinds of bitch. I could either eloquently gather my things, reapply my lip-gloss, leave minimal gratuity and part with the beautiful untouched finger sandwich (singular), raisin scone and pistachio meringue OR shoplift the clothed napkin, wrap up the food as quickly impossible, shove it in my purse, tell the hostess she is a Super Cunt and jump on my getaway bike. I couldn’t let social decency change me. I propped my purse open in my lap and very discreetly managed to fit all the food in various compartments over a 20-minute span. I would take a bite, patrol surveillance and shove. With the drop of my final meringue, I darted out the door and felt elated.

By the time I got home most of my souvenirs were wet, smooshed and ruining the lining of my purse. But it didn’t matter. Justice had prevailed. I was emulating the land of the free and the home of the brave. I am a fucking American. I did it for my country. Nobody puts Baby in a corner, insults her jewel encrusted sneakers and then doesn’t let her take her extra food home. Live free or die hard.

Manners are like assholes. Wait, that doesn’t work. Social graces are like assholes. That doesn’t work either. People are assholes. Miu Miu sneakers are not the same as fucking Reeboks and if you pay for it, you should be able to take it home in a proper styrofoam container.

DEAR GWYNETH

Dear Gwyneth,

It’s been awhile since we spoke. I have sent a few nudes to Noah in efforts to pull a Mary Kay Letourneau situation (like only when he is legal) but haven’t heard from him either. Whatevs. I hope everything is going great for you, I imagine you are somewhere in Côte d’Azur calling your house staff by the wrong names and muddling organic tarragon and Apple’s tears for a new signature Goop cocktail. I hope to one day sit next to you on the porch of one of your many vacation homes and laugh at poor people together, but until then being pen pals will just have to do.

I thought it was really blue collar of you to do the NYC Food Stamp challenge for a few hours awhile ago. You are like an imported organic Cippolini onion, so many layers yet so unattainable. I felt for a moment a less Goopy Gwyneth was coming, like a blonde truffle-infused Phoenix Rising. I was even able to find a dishtowel for sale on your website that would only set me back $175. Can you say #downtoearth? All you needed was one public drive through at a McDonalds and a Taylor Swift concert cameo away from being America’s slightly less pretentious Sweetheart again. Was the Priestess of Goop becoming more relatable?

Clearly I had spoken too soon because shortly after this possible breakthrough I received your September Goop Newsletter. Besides you breaking world news and bravely stating that “Pokē is having a moment”, featuring a super practical cotton zip-up sweatshirt for $1,198, debuting your FALL 2015 CULTURE GUIDE which almost sent me into cardiac arrest –AND you also tickled my pretentious pickle with this recipe for “Beauty Milk”. The ingredients include pumpkin seed milk, Moon Pantry tocotrienols, lucuma, schisandra berry and fucking PEARL.

Um… is that shit available at Ralphs? WHERE THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO FIND MOON PANTRY PEARLS? IS THAT EVEN LEGAL? WHAT THE HELL IS A SCHISANDRA BERRY? ARE YOU ON ACTUAL CRACK GWYNETH?

I’m sorry for yelling at you, I just got a little heated about asking my Trader Joe’s sale clerk where I could find the organic tocotrienols (preferably locally sourced) for my Goop Beauty Milk. I don’t care if this milk could turn Shrek into Jennifer Lopez YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE TO SELL AN OVARY TO AFFORD ANY RECIPE ON FUCKING GOOP. I would rather be ugly and still have my dignity.

I hope you understand where I am coming from and we can talk this over in person soon. Please know that I will always love you and never plan on unsubscribing from the Goop newsletter but only because it enrages me so much my heart rate increases and I end up burning lots of calories. Stay goopy girl and let me know when Noah turns 18.

Love always,

Jackie

gwyneth

Kylie Jenner Hates Me

It’s Monday morning and I am in an Instagram tiff with Kylie Jenner. As I sat sipping my green tea, perusing the internet and reflecting on life I was all at once swarmed with text messages and phone calls. At first I thought they finally found Tupac or a new Zankou Chicken was opening up. Why else would everyone be contacting me with such urgency?

About 20 minutes prior, I casually put this photo on the @bitchbible Instagram account (#plug) all in good fun…

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Then this happened…

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#NOTIDEAL. I was then catapulted in the moral battle of defending myself, doing damage control and/or capitalizing on the situation like any other shameless media whore would do. Naturally I choose to focus on the latter. This is coming from place of ZERO JUDGEMENT but she was obviously cruising her own hashtag because I never tagged that bitch. Maybe she is stalking me? Maybe not.

Despite being a pretty ballsy bitch on the exterior, I am kind of a pussy in real life. I don’t handle conflict well and would be a much better woman if Kris Jenner were my mother. You can imagine my internal struggle on how to handle such a situation.

Like I always say, when life hands you lemons, infuse them into a simple syrup, mix with vodka and CHUG. For the next 30 minutes I frantically pondered my damage control. Do I apologize? Permanently avoid Calabasas as if it were infected with Ebola? Make a sex tape with Johnathan Cheban? Start a clothing line? Buy the 7th Tyga album ever sold? (Side note: who IS Tyga? Hopefully Kris is working an getting his ass a Frosted Flake endorsement) Now I will NEVER be friends with Kendall and Gigi! Fuckity fuck fuck.

In my defense, unless Ky-ky attended an early morning sample sale or a kitschy consignment store, the shorts retail for $60. Perhaps $20 in Kardashian Kurrency konverts to a normal persons $60? I don’t know, I am not a mathematician. ALSO “GTFO out of here” translates to get the fuck OUT OUT of here which is super confusing. Besides that Kylie kinda handed my ass to me on a black and white chevron platter available exclusively at Sears.

Was it nice? No. Was it malicious? No. Has it gotten me more followers? Yes. And that bitches… is the silver lining. I saw Kylie Jenner wearing army pants and flip flops so I bought army pants and flip flops. Bye dolls!

Spring Break Style

Spring has sprung and brought all of my favorite things; caftan weather, marshmallow peeps and massive anxiety towards “festival season”. I know bitches really lose their mind for fall when they can get off on layering and mediocre knee boots. I couldn’t give two fucks about dressing for the fall/winter season. Mostly because I spend most of December with a rash (I am allergic to 98% of fabrics) and usually with 10 pounds of extra weight… you know, to stay insulated.

Needless to say, the second I can shimmy my pastey ass into a sheer tunic and awkward J.Lo head scarf poolside I become a better bitch. Here are some off my Spring Break/Festival Season picks for the blossoming warm weather loving Bitch.collage

Comment below for details and for more style talk listen to this weeks podcast “Pretty Hurts”  (tinyurl.com/thebitchbiblepod) with my promiscuous Grandma Gloria and turbo-bitch cousin Joanna xx

Hot Roller Tutorial

I have been plagued my entire life with the Jon Benet Ramsey at home blowdry. Too soon? Get over it. Due to my hair being extremely course, frizzy and unpredictable being able to tame the beast myself has literally not been an option. I convinced my parents at a young age that weekly blowdrys would be more fiscally responsible then paying for years of therapy later when I need to heal from the emotional damage of being bullied for my jew do during adolescence. Needless to say I have been totally enabled and subsequently cannot do my own fucking hair. Last night post happy hour I decided it was time to make matters into my own hands and give this brillo pad erupting from my scalp a lesson… So I went and bought hot rollers. Here is how that all went down…

Oy.

Beauty Tips with Maxy-Poo

My gusband Max aka Maxy-Poo aka “The Poo” is one of my favorite people on the planet. We have been friends since high school and will probably be roommates in hell. He is the only person who may have a more offensive sense of humor than me which is just plain heart warming. On top of all this, he happens to be an amaze balls make up artist. Talk about a gay best friend jackpot. Max did my makeup (sorry for the bare face) for a HML shoot this weekend and delighted me with some chit chat not limited to social issues, beauty tips and impromptu dance breaks.

 There is a lot more where that came from so stay tuned for part duex next week.

Bitch Beauty School

I must be honest, I am completely beauty product clueless. I never even owned big girl makeup until I went away to college (looking back I majorly regret this- someone should’ve told me I needed some bronzer ASAP). I think my very jewlicious hair and intricate outfits have always taken priority, therefore leaving little to no time to “put my face on”. To this day, I am constantly struggling with what products to buy, how to put it on and with what mother fucking brush?! It all seems like way too much hassle for me.  My love of all things sparkly definitely has influenced my product choices and if you are into an overall matte look, you probably will not be into some of my loot. Here are my favorite products that are user friendly for the most challenged beauticians in training!

  • Laura Mercier Tinted Moisturizer  (Illuminated) – I know a lot of girls are all about the anti-shine but I like my skin to look dewy. I feel like it makes you look more fresh and natural, look at J LO that girl always is giving serious DEW.
  • Bobbi Brown Shimmer Brick – This shit is the best. It is like a hyper sparkly bronzer and I use it as eye shadow too since I don’t like my beauty product budget to interfere with my clothing/shoe budget so I always am looking for products that have multiple uses.
  • MD Solar Sciences Moisturizer – I was sent this last week and would never promote something just because it was a gift. I have REALLY sensitive skin and tend to get rashs from any cream with SPF higher than 20. I tried this out and am completely obsessed, it goes on super light and smells like heaven. They also have a tinted moisturizer that is to die for.
  • Clinique Lipgloss in Black Honey– My favorite lipgloss, it looks pretty goth in color but goes on clear. I’m a religious gloss girl and this is my all time fave.
  • Jo Malone Cologne in Mandarin Lime Basil– I used to only wear Kai until I started having an affair with Jo Malone. My boyfriend originally picked this out for me and I have been hooked since.  It smells so fresh and not too perfumey.
  • YSL Concealer – This has some really long fancy name but at the end of the day it’s just concelear. It never creases and is easy to put on (brush free!) yessss. I am usually asleep by 9:30pm but on certain nights when I am feeling WILD, this helps the next morning with dark circles.
  • Benefit Coralista Blush – I am not a huge blush girl, I usually just stick with bronzer and try to chisel the shit out of my face (my gusband taught me this) if I AM in the blush mood this is my go-to. Not too pink, not too peachy.
  • Nars Copacabana Multiple Stick – Basically like a supersized sparkly crayon to highlight and shimmer whathever you want on your face. Cheekbones, eyes, ear lobes, you name it!
  • Covergirl Lash Blast Mascara – Hands down my favorite mascara, doesn’t clump and doesn’t flake. Oh and its only 8 bux.makeupmakeup 2

Haute Mess Lession: “The most beautiful makeup of a woman is passion. But cosmetics are easier to buy.” – Yves Saint Laurent

The Amanda Show

The time has finally come to discuss that tragedy that is Amanda Bynes. I keep hoping this is just some genius joke she is pulling on the public and is using this all for an amazing documentary she is producing (a la Joaquin Phoenix)and soon enough she will be accepting her Academy Award flipping her non synthetic shiny hair and making us all feel so stupid for believing she could ever be THAT cray cray… A girl can dream right? I know everyone grew up loving Amanda Bynes, but I seriously LOVED her. I wanted to be best friends with her.  In her day, I feel like we totally could have hit it off. I feared now our lifestyles may have caused us to drift apart … Until I saw this video.

We may not be able to hang socially but we could DEFINITELY be work-out partners. Just 2 blonde gal pals hitting the gym.  When a friend first sent me this I literally thought it was me (minus the wig, most of my hair is real). Way to amp up your cardio sesh by incorporating upper body movement! Get it Mandy.

Also, because I am a very mature and ambitious young woman, my new week’s mission is to get a retweet from Manders. I figured I would stay on trend and tweet her a photo of us…

BFF.

BFF.

@JackieSchimmel … home girl needs more followers.