Another day, another bop (yep, I still feel daft calling it that; like I should be wearing underoos and lindy-hopping). Wanting to do gory makeup and combat the high wind chill factor (ie. no scantily-claddedness for us!), my friends and I went dressed as zombie schoolgirls.
This makeup is approximately half a shade lighter than my natural colour after living in Oxford for a month. The eye makeup is a light touch-up to the hefty bags I’m already lugging under my peepers (sleep deprivation chic!)
This photo was pre- fake blood and gore tattoo application. I had such an issue the next day not being able to get the open wound tatt off my neck. Completely soap/baby oil/wire pot-scourer resistant. Granted, there was no guarantee of it only lasting 12 hours – strep throat and demountable classrooms could also be described as ‘temporary’ and those buggers hang around for ages. But I got a bunch of lewd looks and ‘Oh heeeey’s (with raised eyebrow and knowing smirk) the next day because I appeared to be sporting the world’s biggest hickey. Honestly, it looked like Rob Beckett’s handiwork.
- They played pretty much my whole running playlist (which hasn’t changed since 2010. Linkin Park and Shakira = classic) so I was happy and weirdly energised (with only minor bouts of Pavlovian chest constrictions).
- I was so glad that we did pre-drinks (or ‘prinks’ as the English say. So, super glad that we prank. Prunk?). The bop bev of choice was ‘Casper cocktails’ which were approximately 5% rum, 95% coconut milk. I find my Dad’s habitual nightcap of milk and Baileys stomach-turning enough so I was not going to buy into this curry base abomination.
- There was a little too much fly-papering going on: you know, when guys don’t really dance, just stand too close for comfort, don’t actually go in for anything (that would warrant a rebuff) but you can tell that’s what they’re hoping for. It’s like they assume that hanging around long enough will lead to a girl walking into their face.
- One such Fly-paperer has since added me on Facebook and messaged me. In 2 sentences he used ‘u’ 5 times (which I think is passable in texts, unacceptable when you have access to a keyboard) and a winky face emoticon. Not as bad as the tongue-out smiley (which is never cheeky, just gross) but the Lizzie Bennet in me says, ‘Oh hell no!’
- I know, I know. I reference The Mindy Project waaay too much. But MK just gets me. I’m thinking about repurposing this as a fanblog entitled ‘Things Mindy Does That I Love’.
- A friend and I accidentally abducted a Zara vest (trying to get a friend’s vest and taking an almost identical one in S rather than XS…). Not our fault that Zara is the Oxford uniform and every coatroom is basically a Zara warehouse. But I feel bad that some girl is now either vestless or freaking out that she’s packed on a few pounds.