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How to Make Koolickles

And make it look sexy….

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The Art of Airbrushing

It is not often that I cross the threshold of beauty salons, let alone get excited about being forced to have my hair and make up done for an event. This past weekend I stood in a wedding. For the most part, it was eerily calm, the bride was happy, and no one’s dress miraculously didn’t fit. However, there was one part of the day’s events that is still haunting me.

Have you ever heard of the art of airbrushing? Let me jog your memory.

worst airbrush t-shirt

Oh Dina… no.

You remember this classy form of painting now, right? The creations are limitless and the colors really pop in ways that even artists like Georgia O’keeffe just couldn’t quit grasp. Now, take this airbrushing concept and think about what it would be like if you could apply it to your face.

I am not teasing you, it can be done. I experienced it first hand.

You are probably scrambling to Google “airbrush make-up artists near me, ” but please continue to read before you book an appointment. This once in a lifetime opportunity to have your make-up painted on like a cheap, middle of the mall t-shirt is something for which you should really mentally prepare. I can tell you what to expect.

1. The artist who is going to be painting your eager canvass is going to be way prettier than you. Mostly because her make-up will be flawless, but she doesn’t “practice airbrushing on herself,” and she’s telling the truth. It’s just a thing artists do, it doesn’t say anything about the art form’s quality. No, not at all.

2. Unless you have frequently had your head sprayed with a fire extinguisher, prepare to slightly piss your pants when she applies her obnoxious tool to your face. It will happen more than once.

3. The artist will likely compliment your perfect eyebrows and then immediately proceed to “enhance” them for about ten minutes with what I deferred to be a Sharpie pen.

4. Airbrush make-up is literally a breathtaking art form, mostly when you forget to close your mouth and hold your breath during the application of Pumpkin Rot No. 3 to your “voluptuous” cheek bones.

5. Most artists like to save their work for a big reveal once they are completely finished, you know, as opposed to letting you see what they are doing until it’s too late to punt the airbrush gun and make a run for it.

In the end, you will most likely look similar to this:

dog with eyebrows

Expression included

Or this:

cat in makeup

Breathe, you are just experiencing shock.

Obviously, you know what needs to be done. Go dig up that old airbrush t-shirt with Tweety Bird on it and go get your face dyed like an Easter Egg. Until next time Flysters, I will be exfoliating my face with Comet.

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Mr. OB and Irrational Fears

It has been quite a while since I have shared any conversations with my geriatric boyfriend Mr. OB. Since I can now type again, I can’t think of a better way to get back into the swing of posting than to give you some more disturbing pictures of his character. If you don’t know who Mr. OB is (short for Mr. Outback), I’ll tell you now, you won’t ever get an accurate bio of him. Here or anywhere for that matter. But you can infer what you will about him from my series of stories here and by reading the rest of this post.

mr ob

Look closely, this is the most you will ever see of Mr. OB

I had the pleasure of another long overdue dinner and visitation with Mr. OB a few nights ago. It is yet to be determined if he was or was not stoned. Not that that serves as a logical reason that the following conversation occurred, but he seemed bit… paranoid.

We said our hellos first:

Mr. OB: “What’s wrong with you?”

Me: “Nothing?”

Mr. OB: “Oh, you look funny”

Me: Well my arm was swallowed by a first aid kit, but other than that…

On topics of medical experiences, needles, and the like. 

Me: “Wait, so you think if you put a needle in your leg that you will accidentally pull back on the syringe and suck out your insides?”

Mr. OB: “Well yeah, I don’t know what is in there!”

Me: “You mean, in your body?”

Mr. OB: “Yeah! And I don’t want to know.”

Me: “You know, I don’t think needles work like plungers and turkey basters. Wait, why are you stabbing yourself with needles in the first place?”

Mr. OB: Mumbles something about bees and tractors running into trees

On blenders:

Mr. OB: “When that thing comes on at Outback, I am ducking behind the register. The blade is coming out of that thing and it’s flying across the bar and straight into my neck.” making dramatic throat slicing motion

Me: “Because that blender blade has had it out for you since it found out you only drink wine, right?”

Mr. OB: “I’ve seen it happen.”

Me: Well I am sure a lot of people “see” things that would never happen. Ever heard of intrusive thoughts? Hallucinations? Paranoia?

Mr. OB: “You just wait. I’m telling you. It’s gonna happen. I just hope it won’t be me. But it will probably be me.”

Me: to the bartender “Can I get a frozen margarita? Well blended please?”

Check out my latest vlog in the sidebar on the most obvious topic of all. The internet.  ———————————————————————————->

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Table for One

I’m the type of person who has absolutely no problem dining alone, and in fact, I rather enjoy it. It’s like meditation in the form of stuffing your face. No one is there to judge you for ordering that entree sized appetizer and an actual entree. You don’t have to worry about taking a bite right at the very moment that your dining mate asks you a pressing question, resulting in a very long awkward pause while you try to chew at choking hazard speed to free your tongue for speaking, thus ruining the bite altogether. And you also don’t have to play checkbook table hockey to decide who is going to pick up the tab.

dining alone

From the In the Dollhouse collection: Dining Alone, 2011By Dina Goldstein

Dining alone is sublime if you ask me, but along with everything else in the world, there are a few downsides. Let me fill you in.

1. People will feel sorry for you. Especially and extremely so if you are over fifty. I don’t know why, but when I see an older man or woman dining alone I want to slit my wrists.

2. Your waiter will unintentionally make you feel inadequate by slowly taking away all of the other silverware on the table and saying something like, “Is it just you tonight?”

3. Remember those people who are feeling sorry for you? You will eventually succumb to their stares and whip out your smart phone to pretend you are handling important business emails, when you are really seeing how bad you look with a double chin on Fat Booth before you order that appetizer disguised as an entree.

4. At this point, your waiter has now joined in on the pity party for you, so you will have to deal with taking a bite right at the very moment that he asks you a pressing question about your refill, resulting in a very long awkward pause while you try to chew at choking hazard speed to free your tongue for speaking, thus ruining the bite altogether.

5. You have to pay. Unless the entire staring restaurant forms a sympathy pool to pay for your pathetic dinner.

Dining alone

So let me fix my first paragraph about dining alone: No one is there to judge you for ordering that entree sized appetizer and an actual entree … except yourself. You don’t have to worry about taking a bite right at the very moment that your dining mate asks you a pressing question, resulting in a long awkward pause while you try to chew at choking hazard speed to free your tongue for speaking, thus ruining the bite altogether… but your waiter will have the same bad timing. And you also don’t have to play checkbook table hockey to decide who is going to pick up the tab… but there is absolutely no chance you are getting a free meal.

So I meant it when I said that I enjoy dining alone. I enjoy dining alone in my living room while watching old episodes of The Office and secretly pining over Dwight. Don’t judge me.

Dining alone while reading this?! Let me give you more stuff to do on your smart phone so you don’t look so bored. Check out Not A Redhead on YouTube here.

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Goodbye 25toFly

I’ve almost been blogging for two years now, and as the New Year approaches swiftly I find myself in reflection. When I began blogging, I had no idea that a widget wasn’t a term coined for a midget whale. I certainly didn’t know a thing about YouTube, Twitter, or domain mapping.

When I began this blog I planned to write about travel, inspiration, blah blah blah. It quickly turned into a humorous space, which is true to the behavior of a Becca in the wild. Then I got my hands on a real internet connection and a new webcam and it was all over. BeccaTube was born, and many sleepless nights I geeked out splicing videos like I was splitting atoms in a lab.

Where I have come with my blog, my video, my projects, my relationships, it has all been a wonderful experience that was squished into two short years. I still feel like I am barely 23 years old, discovering the outlet of blogging every time I log on, all the while knowing my blogging brain is pushing thirty.

And for this reason, I am saying goodbye to 25toFly. Read the rest of this entry

Final BFM Update: Beyond the Money of Movember

When I got involved with Bloggers for Movember in 2012, I participated for a few reasons.

  •  Le Clown asked me, and you don’t tell him no. Unless you like flaming clown poop on your doorstep.
  •  I love facial hair much more than the average person. I’d take a bearded throw blanket any day.
  •  It was a great way to get involved with the blogging community and a charitable cause all at the same time.

25ToFly Movember Finale

I slept well every night of Movember 2012 knowing that I had done my part as an upstanding citizen of both the non virtual and virtual worlds of which I was a part. However, this year Bloggers for Movember means much more to me on an intimate level.  This year, Movember has sunk into me… deep. BFM isn’t just something I am proud to put my name on. It has made me tap into my appreciation for the men I love, the men I like, and even the ones that I don’t. Read the rest of this entry

What Happens at Blogger Interactive Doesn’t Stay at Blogger Interactive

In case you haven’t been able to tell, I’m all about meeting people from the internet. Naturally, I would be the one to organize an event based off of the very idea. I am just glad that Jen agreed to be the backbone of my crazy idea. Even through all of the planning, it never really hit me that it was actually going to happen until I filled up my tank, stocked up on smokes, and hopped on I-10 heading West. A direction I have never driven before. I even made a Vine on the road.

I arrived in Austin, TX alone after a long, but enjoyable 6 hour drive. I love to drive. It’s relaxing to me as long as I don’t get lost. I take one wrong exit and you would swear I just launched myself into outer space without an oxygen tank. I don’t think the La Quinta Inn was ready for me. As I stepped out of my SUV and started to unload my stuff onto a luggage cart, shoes, lanyards, and toiletries were falling everywhere. It was like my luggage sprung a leak.

blogger interactive austin

“Well, I’m here.” I thought.

I didn’t waste much time doodling in the hotel room, as I was ready to meet up with Jen so we could slap each other in the face as a reality check ritual. Little did I know, she had already explored Austin, met up with one of our speakers, Julian Gallo, and played with some bats. Cool. I’m late!

This would be a recurring theme. For some reason I felt totally under prepared the entire weekend.

Walking down Congress, I was looking around waiting for Jen to pop out of the woodwork, or one of the many hipster shops rather. Soon, I came to the restaurant we were to meet. I was right across the street from it. And there they were. Jen and Julian, and in deep conversation too by the looks of it.  I thought about jay running directly to them, but I figured it might be best for me to refrain from breaking laws before meeting the rest of the attendees. A few times I actually waved thinking I had made eye contact, only to embarrass myself when I realized I hadn’t.

blogger interactive

Left to right: Chiara Mazzucco, John Whitney, me, Jon Hagar

Too be honest, I was a little more nervous about walking down the wrong street and getting lost, than meeting everyone in person. I’m awkward as fuck on the phone, sure. I don’t enjoy giving speeches, no.  But I don’t get nervous to meet people one on one. I’m totally cool and put together. Unless they are nervous. Then it’s like catching poison ivy when you haven’t been outside yet. Confusing.

Regardless of nerves, when I saw the set up that 508 Tequila Bar created for us, I got a huge surge of proud feelings. I knew we had done it right. It only got better after that first night. I don’t think we could have planned this thing better, and I think everyone there meshed in an amazing way. Friendships blasted into hyper mode. It went a step beyond networking. I think they call it bonding.

Jen’s composure and eyebrows wowed me. It was mesmerizing to listen to Jullian talk about pretty much anything. I enjoyed giggling in the bathroom with Michelle as she nonchalantly wiped the counters after washing her hands. Chiara and I snuggled in our La Quinta bed after the speaker session, entertaining ourselves with nothing but some 711 candy and lottery scratchers. I fell in love with John and his wife Lisa who have to be the cutest couple in the history of the internet. So many moments go through my head when I think of the weekend.

blogger interactive 2013

Unfortunately, I did have one hang up about the event… me.

I recognized the fact that I had lost touch with much of the blogging community well before BI but way too late for my liking. When I was buzzing around during BI, I felt a bit intimidated. I hadn’t read anyone in so long. Since the beginning of the year when we started planning BI13, I have been so caught up in… well… planning. Blogger Interactive, Kickstarter projects, moving and moving some more, Bachelorette parties, Bloggers for Movember, and a million other things seemed to keep me from participating in the one thing that started it all. Blogging.

When I asked Lauren and Michael of Key + Arrow who they were, I felt like an idiot. Their blog was right there on our Facebook page. Dur. Yet, my mind felt blank. I didn’t get to have the depth of conversations I wanted to, because I wasn’t leading conversation like my normal self. I felt scattered. I felt intimidated. What?!

Luckily for me Vyvy of Vyvacious reminded me of something. Vyvy expressed the same concern to me over Brussels sprouts and calamari before the event even began, yet there at the Hangar Lounge on the second night she was sitting on Red’s wife’s lap, taking pictures, dancing, and chatting up a storm. She reminded me that having everyone memorized wasn’t what mattered. What mattered is that we were all there. We were there for each other. We were there to continue to get to know each other and learn from each other. And most of all, I think we all gained a new excitement and buzz for blogging, writing, and our virtual community while we were there. And I am more than okay with that.

Thank you Jen for ALL of your amazing hard work on this with me. Thank you Julian and Chiara for sharing your sexy brains with us. And finally, thank all of you who came out despite the distance, schedules and nerves. I love you all.

Look out for the official post event write-up on the BI page along with a slideshow of photos that have yet to be shared!

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“1″

For ten years now, or so it seems, I have had an unfinished, untitled post in the dusty cupboard of my dashboard. Actually, it was titled,  no title, which WordPress automatically assigns to all of those posts you begin to write knowing that you have no intention of finishing but that you begin to write anyway to make yourself feel like you gave it a shot.

The only text it contained read:

1.

This could only mean “1″ of “1″ things.

In my desperation, I attempted to write a list post. I know what I must have been thinking, “I can surely rattle off quickly, raise a few chuckles, and get my groove back”. Yet, apparently I went into the scheme unarmed, save for the numerals that would keep the words in queue. Well, “1″ numeral at least. Today, I finish this list once and for all so that the uncapitalized no title will stop making my brain vibrate with discomfort.

Things That Come In “1′s”

1. 40 oz. beers in paper bags

2. The gummy vitamins that mutated into 1 whole gummy vitamin after I left them in my car in the middle of Summer

3. Kickboxing class

4. Cream cheese packets at Starbucks

5. Becca Cord

Things That Never Come In “1′s:

1.  People who play scratch off tickets at the cash register like it’s the casino

2. Gnats

3. Pomeranians

4. Overly enthusiastic, borderline creepy smiles at Starbucks

5. 5 for $25 panty deals at Victoria’s Secret

Whew! I can’t tell you how relieved I am to have conquered this post. Finally! I can move forward. I’ve been dying to write about so many things, yet I couldn’t stop staring at no title  and knowing that there was a list I needed to purge from my brain. I hope we can all get back to normal around here now.

I’d like to get back in the loop a bit, especially with Blogger Interactive right around the corner, and in hopes that it will shake up my creative juices again now that I have a bit of time freed up. If you comment, send me a link to something you have written in the past week, month, whatever. Something important or something you wrote just for fun. Laughs are encouraged. Thanks Flysters.

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