Monday, April 18, 2011

Lips In Alaska: A Surprisingly Serious Business

By all that is bright and beautiful, it is finally Spring. The snow is on the run, I OPENED A WINDOW yesterday while sewing, I bought cheap yellow slippers. AND WORE THEM OUTSIDE WITHOUT BEING COLD. (If you call them flip flops I will find you and hit you with them. It probably won't hurt, but you'll be creeped out that I found where you live so easily. So DON'T.)

It's a balmy 45 degrees out -- almost a "real" temperature, I assure my Alaskan friends -- and stays light out until 8-something in the evening. I don't know when it's starting to get light out in the morning because to me, even 7 a.m. is still "night-time" and I don't ever wanna see it again. But anywho.


Dramatic "Avengers" silhouette shot
It is now the time to wash all the winter coats, while you still have some independence from them; because if it gets cold enough, you'll come crawling back to the laundry bin even though you know the coat needs washing. You'll slither back into the stink and shame, just to make it through these frigid wastes. It's a helluva place, the ol' AK.

So Kana was going through her coat pockets before putting them in the wash -- you only have to accidentally leave a Chapstick in the laundry once to NEVER, EVER do it again -- when she realized there was a recurring theme happening.

At least one pocket in every coat has a lip balm. Most of the jeans, too. And in the car. And in the Kangaroo insert that is my every bag. And on all the tables and counters. In fact, there's lip balm everywhere. They're given away free at the UAA Student Health Center. They're at every checkout line at Freddie's -- even the self-checkout. Apparently, the whole state is battling the cold dry subarctic climate in the pursuit of moisturized, silky-soft lips.
I guess I was ready for my close-up

I hadn't realized I was on the front lines of this war until I started going around the house, collecting all my lip balms, and put them all in one place; but I am obviously heavily invested in this approximately $2.49 a pop. (Be Advised: These photos represent only every type of lip balm I own. Multiples not shown.) Here they are, prioritized by awesomeness, with the suckiest closest to the camera for maximum shame: Blistex smells like eucalyptus and sunscreen (bleah and also wtf?) and kind of stings when you put it on -- not what I'm looking for in a battle for comfort, bub! An honorable mention goes to Carmex, which is not in the line-up, as it will not enter my home if I have anything to say about it; a lip balm so shitty it actually makes your lips more damaged if you use it regularly over time. Because why not.

"One (Singular Sensation)" shot
My candidate for most awesome is Nivea's Touch of Milk and Honey, which while totally presumptuous-sounding does taste great and do its job, if not actually fooling me into thinking my lips have found Paradise. Oh, sorry, a "Touch" of it. Not all of the land flowing with Milk and Honey...just a Touch of it. Because, don't be greedy.

Maybe like a traffic island's worth of the Elysian Fields, I imagine. It may not be what we got into this war for, but by gods let's take the victory, (wo)men! Because War is Hell.

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