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This was my St. Patrick’s Day outfit, and I haven’t got a lick of green on (or under, you filthy-minded beasts), but I reckon my background counts for something. Plus, I’m drinking Jameson out of a massive Guinness pint glass, hoh-hoh-hoh! I know that counts! M & I were up real early yesterday morning, and when I say morning I mean MORNING: by the time we watched the sun rise we’d been up so damn long we couldn’t be bothered to fuss over the blazing satsuma pink wave crawling over the dark, velvety eggplant of the South Bay hills. I was delirious pretty much all day long, but my hair looked damn good and my Merlot lips by Besame lasted for well over six hours without a single touch-up, so there is that.

However, by far the most relevant goings-on to report are as such:

My lips hate hate hate hate hate Chanel’s Coco Rouge lipstick. I mean, I’ll give it a another go this week (my shade was Cambon), but for a pretty pink pout that goes on smooth and leaves a nice, natural blush stain, I just might have to stick with Cargo’s Plant Love in Maria. (You’d never think shades that look so red in the tube come out so much lighter on me.) In happier news, my new love affair with Laura Mercier’s incredibly fucking magical powdered eyeliner is going to endure, I think, for all time. (Thanks for the tip, Bangs Are The New Black!) Good for sensitive, contact lens wearers like myself, just WOW. Last but not least, my No You Din’t nail polish by Jeffrey Campbell came today. It’s fantastic. A bold, no-nonsense red that just smirks my femme fatale is better than your femme fatale.

What? I can’t help it. Besides, I don’t want to.

Oh! I nearly forgot. I started a new job today! I’m moving into the world of travel as an editor and I’m thrilled to pieces! Who doesn’t love travel porn, and traveling!? It makes me all dizzy and giddy just thinking of it.

So, in the interests of celebration, let’s just go ahead and have a dance party RIGHT NOW with my girl Kylie Minogue:

Last night, M & I went to a party at an aviation museum and the dress code was “business casual”. I realize that one might not consider sequins or an aviator cap meeting-appropriate, per se, but we felt the leeway was acceptable given the occasion (a party). It was awesome!

Life-sized models of the very first man-powered aircraft (successful or not) were laid out in all their rudimentary glory, all the way up to Boeing cockpits from the passenger jets of today. Of course, our favorites were the helicopters and airplanes from the 1940s and 1950s, and they had these amazing, fancily clad mannequins of yesteryear for a more genuine effect. Adorable.

We crashed every last flight simulator we got into – including an old hovercraft prototype – and it was just a lot of silly fun. Of course, M wore her vintage wings and leather aviator cap. (Poor thing fully expected to get a ride in a plane and I wanted to, too, alas.) Yes, in that photo above we are “flying”.

It was amazing to see miniatures of futuristic models, too, like the vertical landing and takeoff joint heavy lift rotorcraft:

In other news , holy macaroni and cheese, kittens, I got bangs! Soft, whispery, no-biggie bangs. I haven’t had truly serious bangs since early 2007, and they were VERY serious:

In short, too hard. Too much work, a bitch to keep up, grow out, etc. I loved them, but they totally traumatized me. I am not a girl who blow dries her hair. Curlers, sure. Curling irons I have down to a perfect science, but bangs this serious require rigorous styling and training almost constantly, which I am not for at this time. (Maybe later, though. I’m seriously considering a bob in the future. OK, jaw-length. Like in 2004, but modified for 2010.)

Let’s hope these are a bit easier to manage. I am rather fond of them!

CONFESSION: On our 5th consecutive day of blissful holiday PTO, M took me to see A Single Man (remember when I mentioned it here back in November?). Despite the dreariness of the day, we bravely set out on BART to catch it playing down by the water at the Embarcadero theater. I really, really enjoyed it. It was delicious. There’s an old L-Word actress cameo, model cameos, a Mad Men cameo, and one other that I cannot quite recall. It was a touch slow in places, but it’s so visually saturated that it really doesn’t matter, and it made me cry. On our way home we took these silly photos, and then it began to rain, so we hustled inside, made a big spaghetti dinner, opened a bottle of tasty red from Spain, and then FINALLY got around to the Johnnie Walker Black Label blending session we’ve been postponing forever. Dreamy.

Y’all can have special insider pics of the super elaborate scotch whisky blending set-up, because I love you like that: