Nail art

I’ve slowly but surely turned into a fuddy duddy, a finger wagger of the first degree. I don’t like exposed bra straps and still believe in slips. I think hair colors not found in nature are stupid (I’m looking at you, Nicole Richie and Kelly Osbourne). And I find nail art to be like nails on my beauty chalkboard.

I prefer short nails in one color, often Black Onyx or Russian Navy. I don’t like talons that have been whittled down to the point where they could pick a lock. And I certainly don’t like nails with crazy designs and different colors.

My distain stems from several reasons. One, fingernail designs and colors can skew trashy, like Hello Kitty just got hired at the Bunny Ranch or Tara Reid, well, just Tara Reid.

And I know nail art is anything but cheap, unless you’re using the press-on variety. I rarely paint my nails because it chips so fast. Getting your favorite team’s logo or a complicated basketweave pattern on your fingertips just seems like an expensive venture for such as short lifespan. I’d rather put that money in my pocket, not on my hand.

And if you’re doing it at home, it invariably looks sloppy unless you’re ambidextrous and detail-oriented. You start out with the best of intentions and bottles of pink, green, and yellow polish and wind up looking like a crazy colorblind person wearing a botched craft project.

And I finally put my finger on it: the biggest reason that I turn away from these manic-cures is that they pull focus. I want people to look at me, not my clothes, accessories, and beauty choices. I’m not a vehicle for miniature portraits, landscapes, and abstracts; I am the work of art. My manicure doesn’t make me interesting; it just makes me polished.

Cold brew coffee

Just when I thought coffee culture couldn’t get any more precious, cold brew coffee shows up to the delight of coffee snobs and the dismay of pretty much everyone else.

The hot drink equivalent of small-batch spirits, cold-brewed (or pressed) coffee is produced by steeping coffee grounds in chilled or room temperature water for 12-plus hours. 

Hipsters far and wide are queuing up for this new brew, which makes the coffee less bitter (while jacking up my own bitterness) because the coffee beans never make contact with actual hot water. This coffee concentrate can then be heated up and added to water or milk for a supposedly transcendental coffee experience.

Cold brew coffee has been popping up around town, with some bars even offering the coffee on tap or in growlers. This translates into lumbersexuals everywhere coming in their artfully distressed jeans.

I hate to throw cold water on this, but if you need a cuppa joe to get your rocks off, you might want to rethink things. A sweet cup of coffee is a wondrous thing, certainly, but it will never beat out a sweet piece of ass. Sip on that.

(photo: coldbrew.com)

Family car stickers

Wow, you’re a family? Get out! I would never have guessed that you have a full house by the minivan you’re driving.

The decal equivalent of a “Life Is Good” t-shirt or Vera Bradley backpack, customized family stickers are just another way to crow about your awesome functional family. Honestly, wouldn’t a holiday photo with matching red sweaters do the trick?

Maybe it’s just that my ovaries have gone to seed, but this 2.0 version of a Baby on Board sign isn’t going to engender warm, fuzzy feelings in me. Rather, this smug stick figure art makes me want to stick something else to this family, namely a bumper sticker over your two-dimensional family that reads GANG OF BORE.

(photo: familystickers.com)

Duck face

I’ve done it. I don’t know why.

Maybe I was going for a Real Housewives blowfish look and was trying to mask my lack of Juvederm or lip implants. Maybe I was blowing a kiss to the cameraman. Maybe I was just knee-deep in gin.

Maybe, but more likely, I was going for sexy and thought duck face was a quick way to look like was I single and ready to mingle. Instead, I—and every other trout mouth out there—look like I have a bill instead of lips, like I’m ready to sample some sardines instead of a tasty man’s mouth.

I don’t want to ruffle any feathers but ladies, when a camera is pulled out, please remember “quack is whack.”

Steampunk

I don’t want to belong to any club that would have me as a member. —Groucho Marx
Or this guy. —TIWTPITF


I like imagination. I like creativity. I don’t like this Victorian goth take on the renaissance faire. Instead of a jongleur in a jester’s cap, steampunkers strap on leather goggles and embrace a good Rube-Goldberg machine or Tesla coil for shits and giggles.

The thing is, the good old days weren’t always good, as Billy Joel would say. If you’re going to fire up some steam-powered contraptions using your erector set, you’d best showcase the tuberculosis and smallpox that rocked 19th-century Britain as well.

You aren’t edgy or alternative. You’re just a former LOTR/Star Wars/D&D fan dressed up as an H.G. Wells’ wet dream. Doff the leather waistcoat and travel back to the present before I engage in a little time travel of my own and sic a Morlock on you.

(photo: flickr.com/photos/nathaninsandiego)