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.

How To: Make Apple Tarts

I don’t fucking bake, here is video evidence why…

Sure I probably alienated 92% of my readers and am probably going to be sued by Ina Garten (Jeffrey call me) but the turnovers turned out delicious and at least I could use this video as evidence for any future bipolar diagnosis. Bon appétit bitches!

o

I Been Drankin.

I am sure this comes as no surprise to most of you bitches but it should be said. I live for a good cocktail. I am not the girl ralphing in my purse or flashing my vagina on the sidewalk… I drink like a fucking lady. I have always said I missed my calling as a pretentious bartender so I like to live that dream in the privacy of my own home.

I am someone who is plagued with neurosis and a routine lifestyle so it is rare that I stray from my usual vodka martini. Last weekend something truly terrible happened… I ran out of fucking martini olives. There I sat alone, watching Stepmom, sans my go-to libation and I have never felt so alone. Sure I could have gone to the market but then I would have had to move so obviously that was a no-go. Sobriety clearly was NOT an option – have you seen Stepmom? Susan Sarandon practically gutted me alive.

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Being the free spirit that I am I decided to concoct a new drink that has since been blowing my fucking mind. I call it my “Basil Bitch Delight”, first you need the following…

  • Basil.
  • Lime or Lemon juice
  • Simple syrup (agave nectar works too)
  • Club soda.
  • Vodka (Gin works too)
  • Ice ice baby.

To make simple syrup boil equal parts water and sugar, to make it fancy add a lime peel and some basil. Make sure you let syrup cool before adding to your drink or you will fuck everything up.

Add ice, shot of vodka (or 2), juice of one lime, teaspoon of simple syrup (more if you like it sweet) and basil leaves to a shaker. Shake that shit like a Polaroid picture and pour into short tumbler or strain into martini glass, top with club soda and get your garnish on bitch. Drink happy.

Thrift Shop Treasures

Anyone who knows me knows the following to be true a) I am perpetually 20 minutes early b) I try not to socialize with people who drive Smart Cars c) I never leave the house without at least 7 pieces of jewelry on. This bitch loves her bling, the more sparkle the better. Long before statement necklaces became popular and J Crew blessed the nation with their bitch approved baubles, a hoe had to get crafty with her bling. My obsession with vintage jewelry started when I was in high school. About a mile from campus was an antique mart mecca that boasted some of the sparkliest shit I have ever seen. Even better, because it wasn’t “trendy” I could walk away with a jewel encrusted bracelet for $15 and tell everyone at school it was a family heirloom.

This became my dirty little accessory secret. People must have thought I had some really janky dead relatives… these family heirlooms barely ever cashed out over $50. I am not some chic hipster who visits thrift shops often. I usually detest the smell and would rather shank a puppy than be pretentiously collecting vintage novels I have zero intention of reading. My motive is plain and simple; I love sparkly shit that no one else will have. Duh.

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Yesterday, I got a wild hair up my ass and decided to hit the antique mart HARD. The second I walked in and caught a whiff of Elizabeth Taylor perfume, cigarettes and old people I felt right at home. Mercury must have been in retrograde because I found the best shit ever. I walked away with a to die for gold lion clutch, an ostrich feather bolero and 3 crystal bracelets. Above are some of my purchases and other vintage treasures I found. Satisfy your sparkle boner at the Agoura Antique Mart (if your in LA) or get your ass to your local thrift shop and explore! XO

Bitchy Bedroom Makeover

So earlier this week I did a mini makeover on my bedroom and as a byproduct my whole world feels refreshed. I have always adapted a Donald Sterling approach to home decor keeping an all white color scheme. I find it makes everything crisp, fresh and very un-child friendly which during this point of my life seems necessary. I also think that keeping to the all white vibe makes it very easy to give the space new life.

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With only $350 dollars, serious online perusing and a few lucky clearance finds I was able to give my bedroom a fresh new look. Here are some of my favorite finds!

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I had amazing luck at HomeGoods, Z Gallerie and online at Lulu & Georgia (which you can shop HERE)! Similar to dressing, I find that the style and personality is really all about the accessories. Whether it be a statement necklace or a seriously fabulous pillow – a little bling goes along way!

 

Bitch on a Budget – Home Office

Well kittens, it’s official. This haute mess is moving up the non-corporate latter and needs a legit work space. As much as I love my living room turned retail shipping station – it is time for me to have an actual workplace. Since our one bedroom apartment is not Versailles yet semi-spacious, we cleared out our dining area so I can have a home office. In my fantasy world I would have Kelly Wearstler come in and decorate for me but in my reality I am my own interior decorator #whitegirlproblems. I wanted to make sure it felt true to my aesthetic but still uni-sexual since my boyf has kindly relinquished part of his home studio to give me a home office (the pink chair eventually has to go). I set up a garment rack with all my shirts/ samples, busted out an old ikea storage cube for my printer/miscellaneous shit/ locks of Heather Dubrow’s hair and gave myself a budget to make the little space I had make me feel like a boss bitch. Not that I need any help in the bossy department.

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I was able to create this whole space just over $750. Hopefully next year I will have an office with sweeping city views, 30 ft ceilings and a REAL sheepskin rug or even better a tiger one (yes PETA I went there) but for now I am happy with my quaint space. Below is my super gay vision board I used to create my home office. Trust me when I say, there may be nothing gayer than a vision board…

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#hautemessheadquarters