I’ve found it. The butchiest face mask in the world. Like, if I was famous, this is the product I would advertise, not because it’s super effective but because it is so. on. brand.
Picture the scene.
I walk out of a car repair shop, wiping my hands on a dirty rag and not smiling because that’s for girls. Cut to the bathroom, where I sneer at the fruity scented masks, possibly clearing them off the shelf into the garbage bin with one almighty swoop. I can do that because I have biceps in this reality and the white tank top I’m wearing proves it.
I proudly replace all the nice pretty bottles with one black box and the tag line rolls.
For when you want your face to smell like a gun.
This should be the next super bowl commercial.
Magnetic face masks are all over YouTube and IG right now and I have zero willpower so I bought this cheap one from Amazon. Yes, it was 3am. Yes, whiskey was involved. You know me so well.
It’s a weird texture and painting it on is more like frosting a cupcake. But then, oh my gosh. You cover the magnet with a tissue and hold it over your skin. Please see the video below.
I’m not a huge fan of bubble masks as I think it feels like tiny spiders racing over my skin. But this is so pleasant! Nicely tickly and just mmm, yes. Like when someone scratches your neck or touches your ears. *dies*
Fun fact, I have super sensitive ears, like my Da. When my parents were arguing my Dad would cover his ears and shout NO NO NO, because if he didn’t, Sneaky Mam would rub them and therefore win the argument. Sneaky, sneaky.
The mask comes off really easily which is actually sad because I want that sensation to last forever.
And afterwards, your face smells like a gun.
It smells like car parts and blood and pennies and while you might not enjoy that, I found it enchanting. There is an oily residue which you’re supposed to massage in, or in my case, run around yelling SMELL MY FACE I SMELL SO WEIRD.
It doesn’t vaccum your pores or any nonsense like that, but it feels really good. Yah, it’s skintertainment and not for pros. But I get tired of the retinols that smell like chemotherapy and the essences that blur into a watery puddle in my memory. It’s so… adult and sometimes I want to play.
This is so much fun and I loved using it. Butch recommended!
The world is a scary place today. Our leaders and “leaders” don’t seem to be afraid but I am. Every time something like the horrific terrorist event at Charlottesville happens we say never again. I post pictures, say a prayer and press like on the hashtags.
Organisations like this are the ones that will save us. I don’t feel hyperbolic about this. We are in danger, and if you are a POC, queer, a woman, disabled, Jewish, Muslim, Sikh, Hindu or anything that isn’t what the alt.right class as acceptable, that goes double for you.
So, what can I do? Money is tight to say the least. I’d love to just donate £1000 to the SPLC but I can’t.
I am asking for £5 per raffle entry. I’ll cover shipping, wherever you are. Over the next few days I’ll take some better photos. Sixty eight. Jesus.
If you don’t want to enter, awesome! If you could donate £1 that would be also awesome. If you don’t want to register via the site let me know and we can work something out via PayPal.
If you can, please share this. I cried packing up my collection, that’s how much I love them. But I am fine to let them go if we raise money and do our little thing to stop the hate growing. It’s a fire and it’s out of control. I can’t bear the idea of losing them and raising no money. So please, share where you can.
The internet is super weird, dudes. (I don’t mean the actual infrastructure, although that’s really weird and also, taking care of it is my like, life choice career so if you have questions about that, hit me up.)
What was I saying. Oh, yeah! So, weirdly, people ask me questions… like I’m the sort of person who has her shit together and isn’t currently lying naked in bed eating sugar snap peas and watching my Best Of Hannah Hart YouTube playlist.
Seeing as I am working on special and hard things right now I thought I would answer some of these questions! For a cheerful change!
“Do you know anything about camping skincare? It all goes crazy in here: spots, redness, puffy eyes, cream goes on weird…”
Yes! My advice is, don’t go camping.
I have been camping twice, under extreme duress. It was unpleasant, not just for me but everyone around me because I was so, so, deeply awful. I just think we worked very hard, as people, to evolve to a state where we don’t sleep on the ground outside. So why go back to that? It’s backwards. Also, cannibals will get you.
But if you HAVE TO go camping this is what I would do.
1. SPF the fuck out of your face. Cos camping happens outside and that’s where the sun lives. The more you know.
2. Make sure you use clean water to double cleanse your face. If water is low, well, one of your companions needs to take one for the team and die of thirst. Sorry.
3. Yeah, double cleaning. Cos the outside is gross and you’re gonna be gross and sweaty. Plus you’re sunscreening, yes? Yeah you are.
4. Oh my god I hate being sweaty. Bring a mist or some canned water to spritz your face and if people laugh at your basic bitchery, make sure they sleep closest to the tent flaps so the cannibals get them first.
5. Insect repellent will fuck your face up. When you’re camping, so many things want to eat your face! I really like this, it makes you nice and soft and really repells insects without smelling like Agent Orange.
I hope this is helpful and I hope nothing eats you.
See, Sober Me read this amazing, well written and thoughtful throw down of the Hanacure All In One Facial. Sober Me winced. Sober Me took Queen T‘s advice onboard and moved on.
But Drunk Me. What a dick.
Drunk Me was watching Whip It, again and thinking that Drew Barrymore would LOVE ME IF SHE KNEW ME. That led to looking at Drew’s Instagram, which led that drunk asshole to this picture.
Yes! The EXACT SAME PICTURE Queen T used, except I didn’t think, shit, there’s that shitty mask I read a review about, I thought… I love you, Drew, and I always will.
The next day I checked my email and I’d bought the Hanacure starter pack for $29 (ONE USE!) plus international shipping. Oh, and I spent £14 on customs charges as they overstated the value on the package.
Firstly, I don’t think anything you do or say at 3.13am should be legally binding. Secondly, this company are horrible to get hold of. I emailed them asking how to cancel (a dick move but! 3.13am!) and never got a response. I emailed when my package was marked as delivered but I didn’t have it. No response. I’d email them about the fact they marked the package too high and I had to pay additional customs but even I know when I’m beat.
Then, as usual, I made it worse.
Note – I don’t have super sensitive skin. You’re supposed to mix up the vial and the little pot, then spread the curdled mixture on your face with the little brush. Leave it for thirty minutes, boom.
Except I had to safe word out after twenty minutes. Let’s just get this over with.
My skin is not perfect in the first picture. It certainly wouldn’t be the picture posted by most beauty/skincare bloggers. But it’s okay.
The after pictures are not okay.
I am too vain to post the picture I sent my IG crew privately the next day but it is a train wreck. I look like a sunburnt, shiny cross between Lindsay Logan’s mugshots and a lizard. With zits.
Are you fucking KIDDING ME.
Okay, yes, I only have myself to blame. But this product right here is everything I hate about the skincare industry.
1. Overly expensive – $29 IS THREE HOURS PAY FOR THE AVERAGE FAST FOOD WORKER. Before taxes. I am actually disgusted with myself.
2. Hyped to fuck – yes, Drew, I’m mad. But call me, let’s talk it out.
3. Shit customer service – reply to your email. There you go, that’s advice from someone who has worked in client management all her career. Reply to your damn email instead of posting celebrity pictures to Instagram.
4. It hurts and they warn you it will. That’s like dating someone who looks at you from under their eyelashes and murmurs, “I’m not good with relationships… I break a lot of hearts”. You should not be charmed by their honesty. They are telling you they will hurt you. Listen to them, put your underwear on and go home!
5. Nothing about this product is luxe or fun. NOTHING.
6. Most importantly… it doesn’t work, dudes. My skin is fucked up. And don’t tell me it’s purging, because I know more about purging than a lonely girl at boarding school.
If it’s 3.13am where you are and you’re four cocktails down, googling mindlessly until you stumble over my little filth pit of the internet… hello, friend. Don’t buy this. Not because it’s expensive and you have no money, but because it’s self harm in a box. You deserve better. Trust me.
Cards on the table, I am not a Glamglow fan. It strikes me as overpriced and, well, vulgar. Showy, you know? All fur coat, no knickers. Fur coat being Instagram likes, knickers being effective ingredients.
So when these headlines caught my eye, I sighed and decided today was a Getting Dressed Day. For anyone who doesn’t know, Aldi is a discount supermarket chain with an… eclectic range. I like it, it’s like a mad jumble sale every week. An element of surprise and bargains on 5lb cans of pickled cabbage.
The glamglow youthmud costs £49-ish in the UK and the Lacura comes in at a very solid £5.99. Scent is nothing offensive or extraordinary, just Generic Spa. Texture is legit, with this cute brush that comes in the box.
Seeing as this mask was only released today (scoop!) I was a tiny bit nervous about being the canary in the coal mine. I swear, the internet has reduced all my decision-making skills to zero.
But I also don’t see £40-worth of difference. However I did spend most science lessons smoking behind the library so please correct me if I’m wrong.
I used this mask tonight and you know what? I really liked it.
Warning, like Glamglow, this tingles. Very assertively. Oh, and don’t get it in your eye, you amateur! You will want to die. Trust me.
Is it a “facial in a jar”? No. That’s impossible. But my skin is hyper-exfoliated without being a red blotchy mess and a couple of dark patches are definitely lighter. I’ll need to moisturise like a boss to avoid my lizard skin wailing in horror but, overall? I am very impressed.
Now please excuse me, I have a 5lb can of pickled cabbage nearing expiry to get on with.
Breaking news. It’s moose counting season again. And also, your roving reporter at the award winning Daily Whogivesafuck brings you worrying news.
*shuffles papers sternly*
I have checked and rechecked the measurements and… god, this is hard, but… data doesn’t lie. We are fast approaching maximum bullshit levels. Don’t believe me? Check out the evidence.
Please, don’t panic. Perhaps it’s not too late. If Jake Gyllenhaal can survive an Ice Age by burning a couple of paperbacks, we too can avert our very own Shitocalypse.
I was disappointed to read an Instagram post by one of the people I most look forward to hearing from. I did DM and ask if I could reference them here but I didn’t hear back so, welcome to VagueTown. This person is smart and funny and does excellent no bullshit reviews. Plus they are super cute.
This person, let’s call them… Cute Face. Cute Face posted asking, much more politely than I would, for people to stop messaging them to tell them they aren’t Doing Skincare Right. Apparently Cute Face doesn’t understand anything. How lucky for Cute Face that people will take time out of their day, to tell a STRANGER that they are the experts in Cute Face’s skin.
I have a terrible habit of remembering quotations but not the person who said it and one day someone is going to be like, “… like Hitler said?” and I am going to die. But I am 99.99% sure Hitler didn’t say this.
UNASKED FOR ADVICE IS CRITICISM IN DISGUISE
I keep seeing this. The ten rules of skincare. One essential rule you HAVE to follow. The eleventy million step routine that if you don’t follow, well, I can’t help you.
Dudes. I am human garbage. I just ate a jar of capers for dinner. My phone rang yesterday and I was so startled I shoved it in a drawer until it stopped. I genuinely do not know how humans interact. I wish everyone as a dog. Or subtitled.
So why the fuckity fuck am I, human garbage, having to get drunk and remind people HOW TO BE NICE.
Look, I made a diagram.
The great thing about this diagram is that it also applies to:
🖕hair and make up
🖕job seeking (PLEASE STOP TELLING ME TO TAKE A TYPING COURSE)
🖕sexual partners, or lack of, or whatever
🖕anything someone chooses to do with their genitals (unless they are a stranger sat next to you on the bus, unzipped and ready for action)
This post is called the joy of getting it wrong for a reason. Because the fuck ups are important. Hey, I burnt my face off with acids! Do I regret it? Little bit, yeah. Is it a funny story? Fuck, yes. But also – and this is the mind fuck – THERE IS NO WRONG OR RIGHT.
There are no rules. There are no guarantees. And isn’t that the fun bit? Let people do it “wrong”. You don’t have the answers. Let people get their own answers.
Just, dudes. Be nice. Be kind. And keep your mouth flaps shut unless asked to flap them.
It is so important to keep your stash organised. However, don’t make the mistake of thinking that you can file them by name or height or anything ridiculous. Pros know to organise their sheet masks by type. Please see below for a primer. You’re welcome.
The Free Shippers
You had to buy something to sneak over the minimim spend because it is 2017 and the idea of *paying* for shipping is offensive. Amazon Prime is to blame for this culture of entitlement.
Problem is, these sheet masks linger and breed. Every time you see them you mutter, “I have to use this…” and then pass right over.
One day, you snap and slap one on your face. It’s… okay. You calculate how much money you’ve spent on “okay” masks and realise that this is why you eat instant ramen for dinner three nights a week. Luckily, the guilt lingers about as long as the mask does and fifteen minutes you’ve forgotten all about it.
Your discontinued holy grails. You know using this mask would be amazing but you can’t find any more. So you save it for a special occasion. Except you work in an office and your Oscars invite never quite arrives. You hoard your precious specials away, waiting, waiting for that once in a life time occasion.
Newsflash. That occasion will be your funeral because there is no day special enough in your eyes. In a year you’ll realise with horror that the masks expired. It doesn’t matter. You were never going to use them.
The Old Reliables
Like your ex, these masks are cheap, deliver what you need and you can always get another.
But, just like your ex, they can get old, fast. They’re just not very exciting. You can’t post on IG about them because everyone and their boyfie has posted a selfie. You feel guilty for thinking about selfies when you’re choosing a mask and promise that you’ll use it next time. They’re good! They work! But, where is the element of surprise? You just need something… exciting.
This line of thinking is why you have forty nine My Beauty Diary masks in your stash. Also, it’s why you broke up with your ex and shagged that bartender with the tongue piercing. And we all know how well that turned out. It’s lonely at night sometimes.
You bought this for the packaging, you shallow trollop. It’s at the front of every stash picture you post on IG. Sometimes you hold it and think about the sort of person you’d be if you used it. Then you put it back and eat Pringles for breakfast. You’ll use it. One day. When you’re better.
The Grave Mistakes
Some people call it optimism. Others call it rampant stupidity. You know that bubble masks make your skin crawl. Or maybe, you know you’re allergic to mineral oil. YOU KNOW THIS.
But maybe not this time?
Good god, even dogs learn eventually.
These masks were usually bought because everyone else on IG bought them. They’re so cool. God, why can’t you be cool like that? How do they make it so easy? Maybe this mask will help. Best buy a pack of five to cement your cool kid status.
Spoiler alert! This mask will not make you cool, it will make you itchy and sad. You can feel itchy and sad for free. Don’t do it.
Grave Mistakes also include – anything bought drunk, anything bought in person because it was there and anything from your local drugstore labelled “inspired by kbeauty”.
The Fan Favourites
Remember what your ma used to say? If the big kids jumped off a bridge, would you follow them? No, Ma, god, leave me alone, I never asked to be born! *door slams*
Your ma was right about a lot of things. You wouldn’t jump off a bridge cos the big kids did it, don’t be silly. However, if the big kids jumped off a bridge wearing a sheet mask and hashtagged it #holygrail, you would be looking up directions to the nearest bridge on gmaps in three seconds.
If you like it, so what, so does everyone else. If you hate it, be prepared to get downvoted to hell because you Do Not Criticise The Fan Favourite. God, do you even go here?
Fan Favourites often crossover with the Grave Mistakes and both lead to a feeling of disappointment and mild self loathing. However Fan Favourites are worse because you’re just so disappointed. Is everything a lie?
The What The Fucks
We are an odd bunch in the AB world. Potato sheet masks? Fuck yeah. Snail? Old news. Placenta? Sooo last year. We will literally put anything on our faces. Ingredient sluts seek out the new snail/placenta/horse oil deliberately. And loudly. We’ve all seen the posts.
“OMG dog spit is the new must have sheet mask essence!”
“WOW SO GLAD I GAVE THIS RANCID MAYONNAISE MASK A TRY”
“I’m only using organic wasp jizz sheet masks from now on #holygrail”
“sheet masks are over, I only use actual skin now #hannibalhydration”
Bonus points if the sheet mask is entirely in another language and Google Translate doesn’t recognise any of the words. Extra bonus points if you can only buy them from one seller, who doesn’t speak any major world language and doesn’t have an actual store, just an email address.
Dudes. Just buy some drugs. Guaranteed excitement. Plus you won’t care what your face is like because it’ll occur to you that your face… is what stops… your head stuff falling out… oh my god… we are all just weird skin bags stuffed with goo.
(I am out of What The Fucks! Recs please)
You don’t remember buying it. You don’t remember adding it at the back of your stash. The name is… kind of familiar but you can’t quite place it. It’s a mystery.
You see the empty packet in the trashcan. You don’t remember using it. Your touch your cheek. It’s damp. You can smell something in the air, but as soon as you try to identify it, it’s gone.
Where did you come from? you whisper into the trashcan. Do you have a message for me?
The empty packet lies, silent and crumpled. Aloof, secretive, the packet cannot tell you – because it’s a plastic envelope you weirdo. Stop talking to bins.