“Pour yourself a drink. Put on some lipstick. And pull yourself together”.
Dearest and beloved lovers of Scarlett O’Chunky,
As most of you know from my posts both on Facebook and Google, that I hadn’t updated last night. It wasn’t because I had suddenly grown bored of entertaining you with my witty banter of what Santa had given me. Nor was it because I had run out of ideas that Santa has dropped in my lap after giving him a wink a fortnight ago. To which I am still waiting for my naked stripper of a fireman to come to my house and pretend to rescue me from a non-existant fire. A girl can always dream right?
The reason why I didn’t upload for the Fourth Day of Christmas is because I have been incredibly unwell for the past week. Like any writer, we don’t want to write and deliver information to you, the viewer and reader, that can be only described as complete and utter shit. I didn’t want to post something that I would reread the next day and want to automatically reach for the delete option in my dashboard. While wishing and hoping that you would completely forget about what had been written let alone allowed for you to read and therefore make a comment. Considering this is the internet and whatever is posted stays there, I know it would be forever sketched into our brains and therefore memory banks.
Having said that, I wish sometimes that I could delete my feelings or stash them away in a box labelled under the same title and store it away. I’m thinking an incredibly large closet that can be locked and when accessing it, the closet requires a password and fingerprint. And when the doors are opened, the other tens of millions emotions that I haven’t wanted to feel are automatically stored there, waiting to be take off their shelves and looked at. Because I am such a neat freak and somewhat organised person, these boxes would be dated in the years, months, days and what I was possibly wearing so then I know never to wear the same outfit again. If that happened, I would run out of clothes, shoes, handbags, scarves and would possibly never wear red lipstick again.
For those who know me well, I live and breathe red lipstick.
The day I stop wearing red lipstick would be the day I die or the make up companies stop making it. Even then, I would probably buy 20 lipsticks of the same colour, just to make sure that I never run out of that colour.
Which leads me to this.
I had been dreaming last night before my alarm went off at some ungodly hour this morning, about red lipstick. And sitting in front of a mirror, lining my lips with red lip liner and slowly applying a colour of red. Believing that my conscience was trying to tell me something, this thought/dream was backed up when I woke this morning and discovered a photo on my iPad. Sitting there in my bed with an empty glass sitting between my knees and my brain trying to comprehend what I was seeing, all I could think was that the picture had been planned by someone in my house while I had been asleep. Before the logical part of my brain kicked in and told me, ‘no one knows your passwords!’.
For that, I am constantly known to change my password for iPad anywhere up to twice a fortnight because for security purposes. And so then no one can see my conversations that I have with an extremely attractive housewife that bakes cookies and gives me incredibly great advice about men, penises and sex (oh my!). Which is therefore relayed back to Lady Blacksnot as I feel like I cannot keep this important information to myself about sex before sending out my SOS to The Sheriff, so then I can be taught how to defend myself by creepy guys in the library.
Surprisingly, I think I may be getting an A+ for this class.
Now after going through my mind as to what I had done the night before as I was starting to become concerned, I realised who had done it. Having taken a screenshot of the quote before closing down Scandal and turning off my computer, I had hoped to print it off and add it to my collection of growing quotes that I am building for my inspiration wall. I knew within that moment, this had to be a sign from not only my brain but also from the world that I needed to get out of my apartment. And that I needed to interact with people besides Olivia Pope, Huck, Abby, Mini Huck and Hunk. Not including trying to figure out if I wanted to hit Mellie across the face, punch Fitz in the face for being a control freak and make Olivia become a complete yo-yo over her emotions but then I don’t blame him for being hurt over what she did and Cyrus…don’t get me started on him. All I can say is, he is too trigger happy and Verna….WHAT THE FUCK!
Anyway, after spending the last week watching Scandal constantly while doing my housework and throwing myself in the shower so I don’t become a living human hermit, it was time that I left Scandal for a few hours and accomplished shit that needed to be done. So the quote on the screenshot that spurred on this motion of ditching Olivia Pope and Associates (OPA) was:
After taking a glass of water and drinking it slowly, I thanked the legend who had managed to get me somewhat out of my funk. And in the moment actually wear clothes that didn’t consist of jeans, baggy shirts, pyjama pants and no pants. Liz Taylor and her incredibly wise words made that happen.
Showering and smothering myself in Radox’s ‘revitalise’ (how appropriate I think), I walked into my bedroom and threw open my closet. By passing the jeans, shirts, boots and clothes that I normally wear when I am going to uni for the day, I hit my fancy dresses. Which I swear are starting to gather dust by how often I don’t use them. Tossing aside my white dress with polka dots as I am sure no one at 8 o’lock in the morning wanted to be seeing boobs, I pulled out my black dress. Fitting for the mood I thought. I then out shoes and went with my ballet flats since I knew I had plenty of walking up hills and across campus to do. So as much as it hurt and made me swallow a sob, I put away my heels. And you know when I am contemplating heels, that is a massive statement.
Bypassing the satchel/large handbag that is normally used to carry my various dead corpses of my boyfriends, lovers and unsuspecting victims, textbooks, ticket stubs and imaginary pack of cigarettes, I gathered my little beaded purse. Figuring that something would probably happen if I didn’t pack all of my emergency supplies, I tossed in my drivers licence as I never want to be known as Jane Doe in case something does happen, student id so I could get into the 24 hour labs, transport card and medicare card. Because who doesn’t want to be prepared in case you end having to take a ride as a passenger in an ambulance? Not me that is for sure!
Knowing that I wasn’t going to be called Jane Doe and my parents having to call the police etc, I was ready to actually put on some form of clothing. Getting dressed in what ladies wear under their clothes, unless you feel like going commando, I headed into the bathroom. To which I then started to stare at my reflection which I have to admit was a bit creepy as I looked back at myself as if I were waiting for them to make a comment about what I looked like. Post shower and face scrub, so can only imagine what I looked like when I first woke up.
Clearly the past few days hadn’t been kind on me at all because I looked like I had been run over by a tractor and then blown full of air until I was at bursting point. Joking to myself as I plucked a few stray hairs in my eyebrows that a little botox, collagen and microdermabrasion wouldn’t hurt, I started lying out the war paint. And before I knew it, I was painting my face with concealer and foundation before putting on some blush so I didn’t appear like I was dead and finally setting my eyes awake with a lashing of mascara. Satisfied that my general outer appearance looked decent and I wouldn’t make anyone ask me if I was okay, it was time to tackle the purple mane of hair that I have. Having had my hair up in a bun constantly even after washing, my hair decided that it would be nice to me today and actually have some sort of wave structure going on.
Compared to the one side being dead straight and the other side being wavy. Instead both sides were on par with one another and I was winning. After wondering where or not I should do something bland like a nude lip or be a school girl and just wear some pink lipstain with some pawpaw ointment over the top for gloss, I decided to throw caution to the wind. Picking up a pencil and outlining my lips, I swapped the pencil for a lipstick and like I had seen in my dream, began to paint my lips like an artist would do.
Like Liz Taylor suggested, I pulled myself together by pouring a drink and I am thinking she probably meant a martini or something but I am not into drinking in the morning any more. The final step was to put on some lipstick and as I made my way throughout the day, I managed to catch some attention not only for the fact my dress blew up in front of some workers at uni but I also got winked at from the guy who served Nannie. But by the end of the day, I had managed to pull myself together somewhat where I wasn’t thinking about what was happening to OPA, Fitz, the presidency of America or the latest feed of what was happening around the world in the stock markets. But rather I was living the life a 24 year old uni student who had no worries in the world and was living life to the fullest.
And I think I did well in pulling myself together, what do you think?
Having had a mild panic attack over the noise and crowd because I realised everyone is know on school holidays, I actually managed to brave the real world for 8 hours. Which is a massive accomplishment considering I didn’t step out pass the front porch of my apartment for a week. As everything I could possibly have wanted was located in my fridge, pantry and closet. So after walking around, interacting with people that didn’t feature Nannie and Lois, bearing conversations about how incredibly gorgeous One Direction is; I was ready to pack it in for silence. After having been ill from what I had eaten and drunk, thanks to the weather temperature; I took off my war paint, hang up my dress that had served its purpose and become a normal human again.
And with that, I simply lied in my bedroom with the door closed and listened to nothing by the gentle whirring of my fan rotating and the faint sounds of Medwyn Goodall. Who I sincerely think has been placed on earth to be my spiritual and mental healer. So here comes to the end of this blog and the beginning of another day, tomorrow. May tomorrow be a somewhat brighter and less anxious day then what today was and that I shall step pass the porch into the uncertain.
As The Universe sent to me today in my daily message: “Its not knowing what the answer or solution is, Scarlett, but simply knowing that there is one, which brings it forth. Of course, you knew that”. Once again, The Universe knows everything.
With that, here is the ending to this blog post. And since I missed last night, I thought I would combine both last night’s blog with tonight as they are essentially entwined with one another. And therefore could not be posted as single posts. Hopefully that hasn’t confused you.
With that on the Fourth Day of Christmas, Santa gave to me the ability of understanding what my weaknesses and strengths are. And for the ability of accepting the knowledge that my life isn’t always going to be filled with rainbows and unicorns but rather is filled with a mixture of rainbows, unicorns and sharply pressed stilettos pressing into the backs of my hands. And for actually admitting that this week has been pretty shit and very much of a downer.
And finally, on the Fifth Day of Christmas Santa gave to me, the option of having five different red lipsticks in my collection that I can fawn, love, caress and desire to wear every single day. And the wanting desire of owning more fabulous red lipsticks that need to be loved and worn.
Until next time,