Whitney Cummings - Princess Complex

Here’s the latest thing that promised to magically transform my life that I spent money on. I’m a big fan of aimlessly throwing money at my problems, but not in productive ways like therapy or yoga-too boring. I prefer colorful, fun things like crystals, beads, or candy with anti-oxidants in it.  Generally speaking, I prefer psychosomatic results to actual results. 

This is called the Q Link and It’s supposed to “reduce stress, increase energy and stamina, and reduce the symptoms of fatigue and jet lag.” It “reduces the effects of EMF radiation.” I don’t know what EMF radiation is but I certainly don’t want that shit all up in my space. It’s powered by “next generation SRT3.” I don’t know what that is, so I figured I needed it. 

As much as I would be the first to admit that this wearing this medallion around is batshit crazyballs, I’m kind of embarrassed to say I think it works. Maybe it’s just me trying to get my money’s worth, but I’m to the point where I won’t even take it off when I shower. I’m worried my hair is going to fall out or my heart is going to stop or something. The only problem with it is explaining to people what it is when they see you wearing it. It’s hard to explain what it is without sounding like a complete sucker and moron. I have found the only way to handle people asking about it is to headbutt them and walk away. 

P.S. I had some people accuse me “getting paid to blog.” Or they think I’m officially endorsing products? First of all, thanks for reading my blog. Second, if I was getting paid to blog I wouldn’t be able to act like this much of an asshole, you asshole. Nobody wants their products featured on a page where I talk about vaginas and balls. I’d be surprised if people didn’t start paying me to not talk about their products. If I am writing about a product that I think is awesome, it’s because I think it’s awesome and am trying to help your life. When I sell out and start officially endorsing products, trust me, you’ll know because I’ll be so rich I’ll have an assistant blog for me and I’m sure it will be a lot more entertaining and coherent. 

Oh, heeeyyyyyyy. I feel like I’m calling someone back who called me a week ago and I’m trying to pretend like a week didn’t pass and that I’m not a rude tacky idiot moron. I know I’ve been sucking at posting because I haven’t had much time. I’m on a plane now and I’m working like a mad woman (AKA shopping online) so I thought I’d tell you about some of my recent obsessions and discoveries. Guys, don’t be a dick and think that this post won’t apply to you because it’s about my vapid materialism. If you want to get laid or get your woman to stop yelling at you, buy this shit for her. 

A great hair person used this on me last night. It’s called KMS “sea salt spray.” I have this thing where I don’t wash my hair. I just find it insanely boring. Also, my hair doesn’t hold curl very well so the cleaner it is, the harder it is to make it do what you want it to do. For me that’s usually a high ponytail with a little teased afro on top a la Al Sharpton. Also, because people are always yanking at my hair (in my work and personal life) I have these annoying fly-aways that make me look like Doc from back to the future. This spray is I guess made of salt or something. I don’t know. Google it. When your hair is dry you spray it on and it makes your hair beachy and more textured. Add to cart. 

DuWop makes this thing called a “flight stick” which you put on your face when you fly. I am pretty much always on a plane so I had to try it. It has caffeine in it and all sorts of bomb shit that keeps your skin super hydrated which is good because usually by the time a flight is over I look like Clint Eastwood. I love putting this on once I board the plane because people think I’m slathering a glue stick all over my face. 

I’ve pretty much tried every make up brand, every color, every everything. That’s what happens when you have low self-esteem. My new obsession is really light nude lip liner because I’m realizing that darker lipstick makes me look older. Or at least that’s what I’m telling myself. It might just be my face that makes me look older. Nars makes a perfect nude liner called Tango. The one pictured here isn’t Tango, but it is one I want to try. The one pictured above is called Roman Holiday, obviously. 

And since by now you guys probably think all I do is buy things to fill my emotional and physical holes, I thought I’d tell you about something that I recently didn’t buy. This is the Hermes Medor watch. I know. It’s unstoppable. I really want it in black with the silver studs. I was thinking it was about time to invest in a watch because I always have to pull out my cell phone to see what time it is and people think I’m being rude and checking my texts or whatever. I guest most people who know me assume I never have anywhere to be and I don’t blame them. Anyway, this watch is a boss bitch and I REALLY want it, so I asked my friend Kevin Christy about it. He’s a comedian and a watch expert, which is a very odd set of skills to combine, but regardless I knew he was going to help me decide what to do. 

Kevin’s response was something to the effect of “it’s basically a three thousand dollar fuckin’ bracelet.” He didn’t write the word fuckin but I could tell through by the speed at which he sent the text message that he was thinking it and that in his imagination he was punching me in the neck. 

It’s weird when you are going to buy something and you don’t, you all of a sudden feel like you made the amount of money you didn’t spend. So, when I didn’t get the watch, all of a sudden I was feeling like someone just sent me a check for 3k out of the blue. I’m always patting myself on the back now like “since I didn’t buy that watch, I guess now I can spend three hundred bucks on these jeans…” It’s a very twisted life I lead, folks. 

Since the theme of today’s post is stuff I’ve been buying online, I thought I’d leave you with a screen grab of what Amazon has recommended me. I’m always amused and think it’s very telling what Amazon suggests you buy based on past purchases. Here is what came up today. I’m warning you: it’s sad. 

This post is about shoes. I know some guys are going to call bullshit on this. To you I say: calm the fuck down. Computers aren’t made only for watching things go in holes. Let’s take a break from stranger’s vaginas for five minutes. Let’s class it up. Women’s shoes do apply to you, guys, because half the time we yell at you it’s because our feet are killing us. Our feet are being torn up on a daily basis and we need to take it out on someone. Trust me, if I ever met steve Madden I will punch him in the neck, but since he’s probably in some basement somewhere putting needles in a Kenneth Cole voodoo doll and thinking of new ways to snap women’s ankles in half, I’m going to have to take it out on the closest man who doesn’t deserve it. My feet are bleeding and throbbing and you happen to be friends with one two many random girls on Facebook, so let’s fucking put our relationship in jeopardy.

I always feel like guys ask “Why do women wear heels if they hurt their feet?” First of all don’t act like it’s such an obvious question. You guys engage in much more masochistic shit than we do. Football? You put a helmet and pads on your body. You’re preparing for blows to your HEAD. You’re inviting someone whose job it is to be a badass monster to ram into where your brain is.  We wear heels because you guys are shallow and you like women in heels. Is it the chicken or the idiot? 

High heels are assholes. I mean, there’s a reason Victoria Beckham never smiles. Look at her feet. She’s in some 6 inch heels and if she moves, either one of her toes is going to be sliced off or she’s going to take a dirt nap in front of a billion photographers. She’s also a robot and at some point needs to deal with the fact that her husband is a flaming homosexual, but that’s beside the point.

Enough about gay David Beckham. I recently found some amazing wedges that I can’t stop wearing. And I am using the word amazing in terms of what it meant before people started using it to mean “fine.” These shoes are not making me have nervous breakdown. The fact that I’m out of Ativan is, but these shoes are not. They’re by Cole Haan and let me tell you something. Cole Haan has gotten cute as hell. Most shoes that are designed for comfort get all Jane Goodall meets Whoopie on you, but their stuff is awesome and dare I say…sexual.

On the website when you order the shoe you can get it in various width sizes which is very good because I have some obese ass bony feet and most heels are too narrow for me and within twenty minutes of wearing them I’m yelling lines from “Mommie Dearest” at myself in a mirror. It’s not a particularly cute situation. To shitty, uncomfortable heels I’d like to say: UNSUBSCRIBE. 

P.S. The deodorant works.