So I’m waiting in line at the Clinique counter for my FREE GIFT (because if there’s no FREE GIFT, what’s the point?) and I’m looking around me and realizing that all of the other women in line are devastatingly horrible looking. And I think to myself, “Huh,” but then I catch a glimpse of myself in one of those awful close-up mirrors, the ones that make your pores look like moon craters, and I realize that I AM TOTALLY ONE OF THE HORRIBLE LOOKING PEOPLE.
This really doesn’t say much for the quality of the Clinique product, so I start to ask myself why I’m even buying this shit at all, but I made a special trip because GODDAMMIT IT IS FREE GIFT DAY! and even though I have two boxes at home FULL of unused FREE GIFT bullshit that I will nevernevernevernevernever use, I am still physically unable to pass up the FREE GIFT. It’s like some kind of weird gene that I was born with or something. I blame my mother.
Anyway I’m standing there, looking longingly at the Estee Lauder counter, which has no line and as far as I can tell, no mirrors that will make me want to rip the flesh from my face like that guy in Poltergeist, but I still don’t move because they have no FREE GIFTS and I MUST HAVE THE FREE GIFT, MOTHAFUCKA!!
And the lady in front of me is one of those “Let’s be girlfriends and commisserate while we wait” people (basically my worst nightmare), so she’s blabbering on about her kid, or milk, or Sean Penn or something, I’m really not sure. And the lady behind me is nice and quiet, but she’s also standing WAY too close to me and invading my personal space bubble, which is VERY VERY WIDE. So I keep inching forward to regain a little of my space but that just gets me closer to the Blabbering Beast, who is now convinced that we are ON THE SAME PAGE and need to get together for lunch or something.
And the whole time I’m imagining both of these women lying dead on the floor with wild dogs eating their Clinique-coated flesh, and then I’m thinking “Jeez, that is a really grotesque image, Beej, what the fuck is wrong with you?” (which I think we all know is a question I ask myself way too often) and then I catch another look at myself in the YOUR PORES HAVE THEIR OWN GRAVITATIONAL PULL mirror again and realize that the one I really want dead on the floor with wild dogs eating their flesh is ME.
And finally I get to the front of the line and ask for Step Three of the Three-Step Skin Care System – No, not All Three Steps — Just the one, thank you — No, not STEP One, just Step THREE. But the girl behind the counter (who seems to be wearing every product ever made by Clinique ON HER FACE, RIGHT NOW) STILL doesn’t get it so finally I have to say it. I wanted to avoid saying it, I really did, but this girl behind the counter is forcing my hand. So I say it. “DRAMATICALLY DIFFERENT MOISTURIZING LOTION.” But the thing is, I’m unable to say “DRAMATICALLY DIFFERENT MOISTURIZING LOTION” without using my Loud Crazy Spanish Soap Opera Announcer Voice. (I blame my father for this one, these DAMN CRAZY GENES!)
And it comes out SO LOUD, and SO DRAMATIC (I roll my r’s and everything), that the Too Close To Me Stander even backs up a step. It’s actually very impressive, if you ask me (which obviously nobody did) but no one else seems appropriately impressed, they just seem surprised and annoyed and a little mortified. I think the girl behind the counter actually rolled her EYES at me, which probably took some effort given the three pounds of mascara already weighing her eyelids down.
So she hauls herself and her 17 pounds of makeup off to get my ”DRAMATICALLY DIFFERENT MOISTURIZING LOTION” and I stand there all weird and awkward, knowing that everyone is staring at me because I just unleashed the Loud Crazy Spanish Soap Opera Voice on them all, and now they’re either (a) impressed (b) intimidated by my prowess or (c) wondering how my pores got to be SO FUCKING HUGE. Either way, I’m uncomfortable and squirmy.
Finally the girl comes back with my stuff and rings me up and tells me that my Step Three (that’s what she’s calling it now, I think I scared her into it) costs LESS than the $27.50 you have to spend to get the FREE GIFT. Which, don’t even get me started on WHY $27.50 is the magic number. I’m almost positive there’s not a single thing behind that counter that costs exactly $27.50.
And I actually say that to the girl, out loud, and call it a RACKET, which it IS, but I say it in a nice, ”I kid! So funny ha ha haaaaa ha ha” voice because I don’t want to be THAT lady, you know the one, the one who holds up everybody else in line because she wants to haggle over the price or just be a bitch in general about something that doesn’t matter to anyone but her. I fucking HATE that lady and I refuse to be her. But $27.50 is a RACKET and I can’t walk out of there without saying so, even if it’s in my jokey joke voice.
To make a long story short (HA HA HAA AHHHHH HA HA HEE) I had to pick out MORE useless Clinique shit to get the other, FREE useless Clinique shit and now I have a bag of totally useless Clinique shit to add to my already very impressive collection.
But I DO have my “DRAMATICALLY DIFFERENT MOISTURIZING LOTION” and I’m practicing my Loud Crazy Spanish Soap Opera Voice so it’ll be even better for the next FREE GIFT day. Because I really like my pores huge and ugly. Apparently.