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My Alicia Experience
My Alicia Experience
“Do you have waterproof mascara?” My sister asked when I answered my cell phone. She sounded way too cheery.
“Yes,” I said flatly in response to her cheeriness. My sister and I know each other too well for her to ask this. It seemed like basic sister information to me.
A silky voice I didn’t recognize interrupted. “This is our deluxe formula in Black Shimmer. Think of it as liquid patent leather shine.” She stretched out the last words dramatically.
I dropped my pencil and pushed the phone hard against my ear. The mystery voice kept going.
“Draw the brush upwards to the lash tips to gradually coat and gently curl each lash. It would look STUNNING on your eyes with the Smokey Gray powder shadow. This color was made for your dark brown eyes and silvery hair. Here, let’s try it.”
She had us both hooked.
“My name’s Alicia, by the way,” the woman said. “What’s yours?”
“Hi Alicia. I’m Lyn,” my sister answered. “Can you tell me about this highlighting powder?
“Here, let me put a little on those cheeks,” Alicia said, as if she and my sister were old friends.The faint sound of cardboard on cardboard told me a small box was being open
I hadn’t been part of a meaningful retail interaction like this in years. I’d forgotten how exciting a conversation is when a total stranger is fascinated by your skin tone.
Lyn’s cell phone must be lying on the counter, turning her stop at Bobbi Brown Cosmetics into a conference call. I knew Lyn was at Bobbi Brown because I’ve borrowed her lipstick many times.
“I’ll do this … and that … and that,” Alicia said authoritatively. She clearly loved what she was doing. My sister and I clearly loved her.
“This is our semi-matte formula,” Alicia said. “It’s not glossy. Do you see what I mean?”
“I do,” Lyn cooed. I wanted to coo, but stayed quiet so they wouldn’t know I was listening.
“Actually, you might like Desert Rose from the Nourishing Lip Color line. It’s the newest color in our Rich Pigments collection. The color essence is suspended in a blend of luxurious, natural oils. It would be lovely on you. Es-pec-ial-ly this sum-mer.” She sang the last three words.
“And, it doesn’t move all day!!” Alicia added to the beat of the lipstick snapping back into its case.
“Now look at yourself in the mirror.” Alicia said. “The Desert Rose REALLY speaks to me. This is SO YOU!”
I could hear my sister shifting to see her face from every angle. In my mind she was batting her eyelashes at herself in the mirror. I batted my eyelashes, too.
“I’ll just ring these things up. Would you like this on your Nordstrom card?” Alicia was happy to help.
The line went dead. I stared at my phone as if its heart stopped..
I wanted my own retail experience with my own Alicia. Lyn and I planned to do some errands together the next day and we could easily fit in a stop at the Macy’s Lancome counter.
La Yessie’s First Date
Time goes by so fast. Time is like the blink of an eye. As we blink, time passes and continues. Time is the one thing that, if wasted, can never be recovered. Saturday passed as fast as time. And Saturday night for me meant the first date with my first boyfriend in person. His name is Mark. He is incredible. He treats me like a princess. He makes me feel protected. I was excited, but I was also nervous. I had never been on a date before. I am quite old, twenty-eight years old. I’ve had a busy life and didn’t have time to date. But I am now and ever since I met the man of my dreams I’ve been looking forward to it. But what should I do during the date? I thought. Should I be myself with Mark? Or should I play along while he talks about the kind of person he is, his likes and dislikes? Should I pretend to be something I’m not to impress him? Nah, my mom taught me better than that. I will be myself on our date and if Mark doesn’t see what my friends and family see in me, then I’m going to have to kiss him goodbye. “Honey, you look gorgeous. Mark is one lucky guy,” said my mother. “Thanks, Mom. Yeah, he sure is. But I am too, because he is amazing.” I smiled. Then, I went downstairs to wait for his call. He texted that he was running late due to forgetting my gift and um, traffic. Oh snap! I didn’t even know we were suppose to exchange gifts. “On the first date?! Really?” asked my sister. “Seems like it. Oh, God. What can I give him? Do you have anything I can give him?” I asked, feeling disappointed. My sister took some pills from her cabinet and passed two to me. “What’s this?” I asked. “Mark’s gift. Give him these and he will love you.” she replied, laughing. “Okay, what are they for?” I asked. I was curious. Were they magical? Were they going to make Mark like me? “Viagra. It will make his penis harder for you.” she said. “Oh, God! Are you serious? Why would I give him that? That’s like offensive to him, isn’t it?” I asked. “I mean, not really. It’s sexy. He will find it attractive.” she stared at me. I sighed. “Well, it will add points to your date, okay?” My sister was funny. I took the pills because I had nothing else to give him. I didn’t want to not give him anything. A couple minutes later, Mark finally arrived. I was nervous, shy, but happy to go on our first date. “Wow, you look incredible. I’m a lucky man.” he said. “Thank you. Well, let’s go.” I said. We got in the car and went to dinner. I was so shy. I wanted to make a good impression on Mark, but I also wanted to let go and be myself.
La Yessie’s First Date
Time goes by so fast. Time is like the blink of an eye. As we blink, time passes and continues. Time is the one thing that, if wasted, can never be recovered. Saturday passed as fast as time. And Saturday night for me meant the first date with my first boyfriend in person. His name is Mark. He is incredible. He treats me like a princess. He makes me feel protected. I was excited, but I was also nervous. I had never been on a date before. I am quite old, twenty-eight years old. I’ve had a busy life and didn’t have time to date. But I am now and ever since I met the man of my dreams I’ve been looking forward to it. But what should I do during the date? I thought. Should I be myself with Mark? Or should I play along while he talks about the kind of person he is, his likes and dislikes? Should I pretend to be something I’m not to impress him? Nah, my mom taught me better than that. I will be myself on our date and if Mark doesn’t see what my friends and family see in me, then I’m going to have to kiss him goodbye. “Honey, you look gorgeous. Mark is one lucky guy,” said my mother. “Thanks, Mom. Yeah, he sure is. But I am too, because he is amazing.” I smiled. Then, I went downstairs to wait for his call. He texted that he was running late due to forgetting my gift and um, traffic. Oh snap! I didn’t even know we were suppose to exchange gifts. “On the first date?! Really?” asked my sister. “Seems like it. Oh, God. What can I give him? Do you have anything I can give him?” I asked, feeling disappointed. My sister took some pills from her cabinet and passed two to me. “What’s this?” I asked. “Mark’s gift. Give him these and he will love you.” she replied, laughing. “Okay, what are they for?” I asked. I was curious. Were they magical? Were they going to make Mark like me? “Viagra. It will make his penis harder for you.” she said. “Oh, God! Are you serious? Why would I give him that? That’s like offensive to him, isn’t it?” I asked. “I mean, not really. It’s sexy. He will find it attractive.” she stared at me. I sighed. “Well, it will add points to your date, okay?” My sister was funny. I took the pills because I had nothing else to give him. I didn’t want to not give him anything. A couple minutes later, Mark finally arrived. I was nervous, shy, but happy to go on our first date. “Wow, you look incredible. I’m a lucky man.” he said. “Thank you. Well, let’s go.” I said. We got in the car and went to dinner. I was so shy. I wanted to make a good impression on Mark, but I also wanted to let go and be myself.
Fart Jug
Children are maniacal, mischievous little jerks with a twisted sense of humor, delighting in the misfortunes of others. Whether it be a surprise attack with a water pistol, loosening the lid of the salt shaker, or leaving piles of fake vomit to be found by their unsuspecting victim, all kids seem to take pleasure in what can only be described as, “bathroom humor macabre.”
I wish I could say with my head held high that my brother and I had been above such antics. I wish I could say that we pursued more scholarly endeavors, and had focused our bountiful energies on something useful.
But I can’t, we weren’t, and we most certainly didn’t.
Like every other booger-eater on the planet during the early 90s, we found copious amounts of entertainment finding ways to torment our father, in the form of sadistic pranks. It was the usual fare, buckets of water dropped from a half-opened doorway, whoopie cushions left tucked inconspicuously into the folds of his easy chair. That sort of thing. My brother was older than me, and was the brains of the operation, his further developed mind concocting every scheme. I was more than happy to play the assistant, if it meant the positive reward of watching our dad blow up in a huff, inevitably ending in muttered curse words.
One particularly dull summer morning, my brother and I, having watched the same rerun of Peewee’s Playhouse for the 376th time, decided it would be a good day to hatch a plan. My brother was unusually gassy that day, and had been teasing me with said flatulence. Suddenly, a light bulb clicked in his head, and he said to me,
“What if we could bottle these farts and make dad smell them when he gets home?!?”
I lit up at the wild possibility of such a hilarious thought. But was such a thing even feasible? The scientific experiments began. After running several controlled studies with the various containers found within our kitchen, we discovered that thick plastic containers did the best job preserving the, “sample.”
We had found our vessel!
But how to get our dad to take a whiff…we sat there, puzzled, until suddenly, my brother shouted, “I know!” He ran to the fridge and returned with our father’s jug of drinking water. This jug was made of thick plastic, came with a lid, and most importantly, the head of the household used this exclusively, religiously, every evening after work. He drank straight from the jug, no glassware involved.
Perfect.
We decided that in order to increase our chances of success, we needed more ammo. So, for lunch, we both gorged ourselves on a wonderful meal of refried beans and shredded cheese. It didn’t take long for the ammo to load, and we spent the rest of the day taking turns “firing,” being certain to tighten the lid after each shot.
A few minutes before dad was to return home, we carefully placed the jug-turned-deathbomb back in its usual spot inside the fridge, and went into the living room to appear as casual as possible.
MY ELDER SIBLING HILARIOUS REACTION
My elder brother and I have an amusing and lovely relationship. We love to play pranks on each other, I do it more than him. Our pranks are mostly ghost based. My brother tries his level best to scare the hell out of me but it was impossible since I was a, and still am a great lover of ghosts, but nevertheless, he tried and I humored him or else he would sulk around the house like a petulant child. I too pranked him, though mine were little weird ones. Now let us get back to the story. This happened in my teen years. By then my brother had curbed his pranking habits as he had become an adult, but I had not, and still not have, even though now I am an adult also. My pranks are now quite subtle, but nevertheless still hilarious. As I was saying, it was the month of June or July and that year the summer was the worst. Even at night, there was no comfort. That particular evening it was blazing and unable to bear I went to the fridge, took out what I thought was a bottle of chilled water, and drank it down in huge gulps. I had finished halfway when suddenly my eldest sister shrieked from behind, scaring the hell out of me. She asked me what I was doing, so I pointed to the half-empty bottle and said I was quenching my thirst. With a weird look on her face which looked between grimace and shock, she told me that what I drank was vinegar. I have a high tolerant level of sourity, so I didn’t feel the bitter taste. My sister literally got sick and ran to the loo to empty her stomach. While all that drama was going on, like a flash of lightening, a wicked idea struck on my mind. So, accordingly I a glass and mixed a little bit of vinegar and water and kept on the place where my brother usually kept his glass of water, and patiently waited for my guinea pig. I didn’t had to wait for long and soon my brother came and drank that concotion. The effect was immediate. He spewed out the water like a shower and started to make face, all the while dry heaving. Hearing the cacophony, our grandmother came out of her room to find me laughing my heads off while my brother was jumping around, trying to get rid of that vile taste. I did get a stern talking, not scolding mind you because I am innocent, that day but it was all forgotten when eerytime I remember my elder brother’s face.
Unforgettable story with my twin sister
I was born as identical twins. My mom didn’t know she had twins pregnancy until giving birth due to imaging technology were not well developed at that times.
So, in retrospect we brought little surprise to my parents.
If you were placed in my parents’ shoes, how do you feel because of our surprise?
Do you think they feel happy? But their answer is always given as ambiguous by anticipating their babysitting future moments.
Yes, it is Double! ” Double fun as well as double troubles”.
As for me, having my twins existence means she is here to love, support and annoy me because it’s part of her job requirements.
Sharing but indeed stealing each other’s things is the best part about having a sister. But we could not steal much from each other because we mostly have similar items just like a routine for twins.
As we are identical twins, we not only share same womb chemistry but also possess same desires and feeling.
When she is laughing, I’ll be laughing and when she cry I’ll be crying with her as we are the most attachment person to each other.
Fighting and crying for competing same object between us is the most quarrel fact that my parents faced every days in our toddler times.
When becoming adolescent, although we no longer quarrel for same object, we always stressed out for having same personality, same style and same habits and accused another as copying.
We thought that we lived in the same shelter with same environment for long time, thus we possess those similarities.
Moreover, both of us didn’t want to look alike and we want to find our own singularity.
So, we decided to live separately at 18 year old and we also didn’t contact to each other about another personal life-style.
The purpose is to know who is copying to whom and can we change our similarities in living different shelters.
Our parents approved our agreement plan and requested a promise that we will never fight and quarrel again after challenging this.
In early days of living my own life in separate town is not that easy, I have to do all of my stuffs and feeling of something empty in my life.
But we agreed to set a dead line for 1year and I really want to know our own personality and habits are changing or not.
What do you think about our life-style after 1year?
Is there any singularity can we found?
Finally, that day has come.
We meet each other for the first time after 1year of our own separate life- style.
Let’s compare our separate living.
For style- on that day, She wear a trouser and I wear a dress but both are white.
We accept that white is common colored and so it can be the same.
For habit- Her house is near a lake and she walked near this lake in every evening.
For me, I always read a book at a bunch besides the lake near my house in every early morning.