If you are a girl, dear reader, you probably know by my title that I'm talking about face masks. If I have kept anyone in unbearable tension by not revealing my facial routine, you can relax: the wait is over.
So like most normal people I start my facial routine by washing my face. Then I'm supposed to exfoliate, but I couldn't find anything with which to exfoliate. So I was like hey, I'll use sugar and honey. I've heard of people doing that.
Of course it's my house, so I couldn't find any sugar or honey. So I naturally, I used salt and olive oil. Wow. I'm glad no one reading my blog knows who I am, cause I've just admitted to the Internet I spent Sunday evening rubbing salt on my face.
.........
Moving on. After exfoliating, I steam. A nifty little trick I often use while steaming is to pop a tea bag in the water. Then I go under my towel and steam, and when I'm finished, huzzah, it's tea! So then I can sip my tea whilst I wear my face mask.
Today I decided to try a mask bubzbeauty mentioned on her channel (I love her videos) that is made of avocado and banana. But of course it's my house, so there were no bananas.
Let's just stop for a minute. In what universe do people have no sugar in their house, but three avocados ? No one in the family even likes avocados! They just sit there, judging us from the fruit bowl!
Ok, my rant's over. I'm sitting here typing, and a few minutes ago I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and I almost gave myself a heart attack. If I saw myself on the street, I would run from me screaming. And throwing off my clothes like you're supposed to do for bears, in case the zombie me decided to stop to investigate them.
When my zombie face dries, I'm going to use rice water as a natural toner, because it really reduced redness in my skin. I tried to cook egg fried rice a few days ago (it didn't work. I added so much egg it was more like scrambled eggs with random pieces of rice stuck in) but on the bright side I got my rice water out of it!
I think it's nearly time to wash the avocado of my face so, once again, good bye people!
Sunday, 2 September 2012
Saturday, 1 September 2012
Babysitting
This isn't ordinary babysitting, before you get excited. I don't get to look after cute little girls and plait their hair and watch Barbie Princess Charm School and at the end of the night, get paid for it. I am babysitting my ten year old mine craft playing nose picking brother. Well I don't actually know that he picks his nose, but I've suspected he does it in secret for years......
I don't even get paid. I mean it would be different if I were PAID. But no. Apparently family babysit family for free. And, as my mother kindly pointed out, it's not as if I was doing anything else tonight.
Great. Thanks mum. Making me look uncool to the Internet. I would so be going out if doctor who wasn't on tonight.
So my brother disappeared into the study to play some strange Internet game and I was bored. So then I thought hey, why not go on that new blog I made yesterday ? And I was like YEAH!
I apologise if I'm using too many capitals for you. I don't use capitals to shout, I use them to express my boundless enthusiasm.
So I'm pecking away at the keyboard and my sister, who's reading a book about Stalin, decides to accidentally (yeah right) touch my leg with her foot. And this wouldn't be a problem, if she wasn't wearing socks.
I hate socks. To fully understand the way I feel about socks, think of the thing that irritates you the most in the world. The sound of people sawing polyester. Cracking knuckles. People who call Canada "Canadia", and yes, they do exist. It doesn't even have to exactly annoy you. Just the thing that makes you go YEUCH! That most trivial thing that you feel so strongly about it almost disgusts you.
Well mine is socks.
So how do you go about in this sock filled world, Addie, living your life, I hear you ask. Well I'll tell you.
Drugs.
Just kidding. The sock horror is only active when it's someone else's socks. I survive with my own socks on my feet. Well maybe survive isn't the right word. I can suffer through socks on my own feet. I peel them off as soon as I get home, and go around without them when I can get away with such shenanigans. Which can be awkward when you get in that routine and you realize halfway through a training session you've got bare feet in old trainers. Which gives you blisters like bejeezus. But when it's other people touching me with their scratchy, materially, frictiony disgusting socky feet, IJUSTCANTADSJFLWMINDEXPLODES.
Well this post turned out a lot longer and stranger than it was supposed to, and had basically nothing to do with babysitting.
Live long and prosper
SPOCK HAND
I don't even get paid. I mean it would be different if I were PAID. But no. Apparently family babysit family for free. And, as my mother kindly pointed out, it's not as if I was doing anything else tonight.
Great. Thanks mum. Making me look uncool to the Internet. I would so be going out if doctor who wasn't on tonight.
So my brother disappeared into the study to play some strange Internet game and I was bored. So then I thought hey, why not go on that new blog I made yesterday ? And I was like YEAH!
I apologise if I'm using too many capitals for you. I don't use capitals to shout, I use them to express my boundless enthusiasm.
So I'm pecking away at the keyboard and my sister, who's reading a book about Stalin, decides to accidentally (yeah right) touch my leg with her foot. And this wouldn't be a problem, if she wasn't wearing socks.
I hate socks. To fully understand the way I feel about socks, think of the thing that irritates you the most in the world. The sound of people sawing polyester. Cracking knuckles. People who call Canada "Canadia", and yes, they do exist. It doesn't even have to exactly annoy you. Just the thing that makes you go YEUCH! That most trivial thing that you feel so strongly about it almost disgusts you.
Well mine is socks.
So how do you go about in this sock filled world, Addie, living your life, I hear you ask. Well I'll tell you.
Drugs.
Just kidding. The sock horror is only active when it's someone else's socks. I survive with my own socks on my feet. Well maybe survive isn't the right word. I can suffer through socks on my own feet. I peel them off as soon as I get home, and go around without them when I can get away with such shenanigans. Which can be awkward when you get in that routine and you realize halfway through a training session you've got bare feet in old trainers. Which gives you blisters like bejeezus. But when it's other people touching me with their scratchy, materially, frictiony disgusting socky feet, IJUSTCANTADSJFLWMINDEXPLODES.
Well this post turned out a lot longer and stranger than it was supposed to, and had basically nothing to do with babysitting.
Live long and prosper
SPOCK HAND
The name of this blog
I just realized now that in my first post, I never explained the quite odd name of this blog. It's called musings of a pretzel because that's what a lot of people call me. Pretzel. See, I used to have very long hair that got in the way a lot, so I had this way of twisting it and tying it in a knot that apparently looked a lot like there was a pretzel stuck to the back of my hair. So then everyone started calling me pretzel.
Phew. So that's over. Now hopefully people won't think I'm a food blogger or obsessed with pretzels.
Phew. So that's over. Now hopefully people won't think I'm a food blogger or obsessed with pretzels.
Friday, 31 August 2012
Post number 1
So this is my first post? Isn't it exciting? Well maybe not for you. It is for me, and I guess whatever gets me off hpff (Harry potter fan fiction) is a good thing. Hmmm.....what to say about me? The things I spend most of my time doing are probably reading, sleeping, eating and running. In that order. In fact last Christmas my friend actually made me a card with a stick figure of me eating and running at the same time.
So maybe I'm already rambling. Maybe I should add that to the list of things I do most. I also write quite a lot. I should probably go back and add that to the list, but I'm writing this on my mum's iPad, and it's quite hard to control. I can't get the cursor to move, and then I'll end up stabbing the screen with my finger, swearing at in in a not-to-subtle-voice. Which will probably upset my brother.
Anyway, as you've probably already realized, I'm quite a random girl. I want to be an author someday, and this blog is supposed to be like writing practice for me, so I'm not actually to bothered about how many people will stumble onto my weird little corner of cyberspace. Though I hope at least one person does, because I'm referring to you, dear reader, as you. So if no one ever reads this post, it'll be quite awkward.
I should probably finish up this post, because it's quite late at night and I need to pee, but I promised myself I wouldn't until I'd finished this. I'm not sure about general blog etiquette, so I don't know if anyone will be shocked and disgusted if I mention peeing on mine. If you are, I'm sorry. I like to think I'm vaguely mature for a fifteen year old girl. I mean I've never set my hair on fire or ridden a wombat or anything strange like that. But my sixteen year old sister still seems to have a mental age of about a single year old, and would probably laugh until she threw up if anyone mentioned peeing.
I'm exaggurating.
Slightly.
Anyway I really am desperate and I really do need to finish, so I'll try put a stop to my rambling.
Good night cyberspace.
So maybe I'm already rambling. Maybe I should add that to the list of things I do most. I also write quite a lot. I should probably go back and add that to the list, but I'm writing this on my mum's iPad, and it's quite hard to control. I can't get the cursor to move, and then I'll end up stabbing the screen with my finger, swearing at in in a not-to-subtle-voice. Which will probably upset my brother.
Anyway, as you've probably already realized, I'm quite a random girl. I want to be an author someday, and this blog is supposed to be like writing practice for me, so I'm not actually to bothered about how many people will stumble onto my weird little corner of cyberspace. Though I hope at least one person does, because I'm referring to you, dear reader, as you. So if no one ever reads this post, it'll be quite awkward.
I should probably finish up this post, because it's quite late at night and I need to pee, but I promised myself I wouldn't until I'd finished this. I'm not sure about general blog etiquette, so I don't know if anyone will be shocked and disgusted if I mention peeing on mine. If you are, I'm sorry. I like to think I'm vaguely mature for a fifteen year old girl. I mean I've never set my hair on fire or ridden a wombat or anything strange like that. But my sixteen year old sister still seems to have a mental age of about a single year old, and would probably laugh until she threw up if anyone mentioned peeing.
I'm exaggurating.
Slightly.
Anyway I really am desperate and I really do need to finish, so I'll try put a stop to my rambling.
Good night cyberspace.
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