I am embarrassed but also slightly gleeful when I tell you this is what I spent Alex's naptimes working on yesterday. I found this website through an old colleague's blog. Check it out at South Park Studio Version 2.0. You can make your own South Park characters in the likeness of anyone you know. I present to you my family in the world of South Park. I also made portraits of other families that I know and then I made up a few random characters just because it was so much fun.
My little South Park family
In other news I had a haircut and my nails done this morning. Yes, I got a manicure -- the third ever in my young life. I'm averaging once a decade at this point. Although it is so decadent, I always feel like such a fraud when I have a manicure or pedicure. I feel like I should be meeting Buffy at the club for a game of tennis and a round of Cosmopolitans. Don't get me wrong, I know plenty of down to earth, modest income women who indulge in a manicure now and again. But I also know that I am perfectly capable of painting my own fingernails, toenails or any other sort of nails.
I think that this latent guilt actually stems from the fact that I was deprived a Barbie Makeup Head as a child. I've never gotten a straight answer as to why I wasn't allowed to have the only toy that I ever truly BEGGED for. It probably had something to do with the whole, "Girls may not wear makeup until they are 16" rule at my house. So even Barbie, who was twenty-six by then wasn't going to be allowed to wear makeup at my house. I'm convinced that my parents thought I would try to pull off Barbie's bright blue eye shadow as my own. Can't you just see me smuggling the entire Barbie Makeup Head to school in my backpack so that I could don glittery lipgloss and Easter egg-colored eyeshadows?
I decided that I wasn't part of the chosen few. I would never be a Makeup Gentile. I was destined to spend my life makeup inept and pretty shabby with a curling iron and a hair dryer as well. I was a "natural" girl, with "natural" beauty. Even as an adult it was easier to tell myself that I didn't need makeup to be pretty (that I was above makeup) than to admit that a small voice in my head kept repeating, "You are not allowed to wear makeup. Pink lipstick and red nail polish are for harlots." (or "fast cookies" as my mom liked to say.) But for today, I smothered the little voice under a large pillow. So stand back, world! This fast cookie has blonde highlights and dark red fingernails. There's no stopping me now. I might even call up Buffy and throw back a few gin & tonics on the lanai.