Why My Name Is What It Is

My name is NOT Queenie Kizzy, my name is Kizzy. It is Queenie Kizzy on Facebook because for some odd reason they wouldn’t allow me to HAVE Kizzy as my name because it seemed *fake* to them. It was actually an ordeal, my account was frozen while we went back and forth, with me telling them my given name IS Kizzy, the Facebook gods telling me it wasn’t .. I pulled the prejudice card because I am a mexican with an african american name. I know it’s confusing. I will get to it. But before I do that, my name is NOT Queenie, it’s JUST Kizzy. I have spent YEARS trying to come up with a nickname, but have never found one that… FITS me. I am open to hearing any, but if you know me at all, you know that it’s not gonna be easy… So freaking bizarre. 

I didn’t know my name was weird, odd, or outta it’s place until I was about 13. And that was only because someone explained to me what Kizzy meant, where it came from, and why it was weird that *I* had that name  (I hadn’t spoken to the woman I refer to as the womb donor in a while, but I made a special call for this question to her). 

I have 2 brothers. The older brother’s name is Lasaro (beautiful, strong mexican name that my father also carried), and the other is James. JAMES. And then there is me, Kizzy. Lasaro, James and Kizzy. Hmmm… Yes, still seems… Off. Why??? Because we have the strong mexican name, the white (ish) name, and then there is my name. The African name that she got from a movie in the 70’s. 

The womb donor was REALLY prejudice. We weren’t allowed to have any friends who weren’t mexican or whiteys. WHY is this odd? BECAUSE  MY NAME IS A BLACK NAME. Kizzy. It came from the movie “Roots”, Kizzy, was Kunta Kinta’s daughter, so my mom named me after a black slave.Even though she was prejudice. Make sense??? Nope. It gets better…I think her preggo hormones were raging, or maybe she knew she would hate who I would be while I was in her womb, I dunno. When I asked her WHY she named me that, she did say it was because she hated the name my father wanted to give to me, which was Selena after the singer. I love that name because I know that HE did. If I were to EVER change my name, it would be to that. Selena Sandoval. That makes me smile everytime because I think of my father…

My womb donor did protesteth too much, as she is now, from what i understand, only in relationships with african men, preferrably the ones who are recently out of prison as she is on a pen pal list to them (but has not written to her son in prison for the last 12 years he has been int here, I digress). 

I have gotten a LOT of questions about my name, and it wasn’t always Queenie Kizzy on Facebook. I think I recieved about 15 Christmas cards with the name Queenie Kizzy on it, and I would giggle everytime becuase Facebook did this to me. They took a weird name and made me have it even funnier. I  used to be able to have it as just Kizzy, but the only other one they would accept was Kizzykins, and I was NOT going to have that. It’s a cute pet name that my frend Georgiekins calls me, but as my fb name, omg no… 

This picture reminds me of the womb donor… I shall dedicate this to her even though I do think that it’s giving her way more thought than she actually deserves from me. I swear I am not bitter about my name… I kind of like it. 

Ipsy SUCKS

So I FINALLY received my ipsy bag today and I’m just not even sure where to start.
I’ve been signed up with Ipsy for about 10 months now. When I signed up, it was GREAT, but it just progressively keeps going down hill.
I WILL say that the bags are usually super cute though. And at one point I may say that I have too many bags, but really? 

I dunno how to capture the cute yet weirdness of this particular bag. So let’s just open it and get to the crap.

I was looking forward to this Pacifica. WAS. It’s so… small. I dunno. It just makes me wanna… throw it against the wall and see how PRETTY it makes a tiny bit of my floor. Next.

I swear on EVERYTHING I didn’t chop off the top, or rub it off. THIS is what came… This teeny tiny little bitty joke of posie balm. I’d throw it against the wall, but there’s not even enough to make any kind of a mark. And I throw HARD. Next.

Ok, fine. I don’t hate. But that does NOT make up for the previous 2 crappy yucks.
Next.

I need companies to stop attempting to name things after alcoholic beverages. This lip balm in no way shape or form smells like a mojito. It doesn’t feel the way that a mojito does when it touches my lips, it doesn’t smell the way a mojito smells when I’m getting ready to take a drink. Just call it something else stupid companies, because people like me, who actually know what a mojito smells like, do not want to be falsely led into thinking that a glorious smell such as a mojito is going to come out of this teeny tiny itsy bitsy little tube. Next.

I have a brush addiction,  so it’s REALLY hard for me to talk badly about brushes. And it’s pink… And it’s Elizabeth Mott. Fine. I don’t hate this either.
I was also SUPPOSED to be getting a nail polish in my bag, but it was an ugly blue that I wouldn’t have used anyway. But I could have regifted, or given it to my local woman’s shelter, so I’ll waste some of my time emailing them to send me the ugly blue. And then I’m cancelling. Because I can find something way better to do with that ten bucks a month than waste it on this crapola.

Weird Facebook Trolls

You ever have one of those days when you want to ignore everyone you know in real life, and will only speak to the ones you know via fb messenger? And then there’s that ONE person who takes all the energy you have put into doing nothing seem like a wasted goal.

I enjoy my fb people, it makes life more… interesting. I hate the drama and people who all of a sudden have a spine because they can sit behind a machine. I doubt very seriously that some of these women would have the Nuggets to say even half of what’s said online to say… my face.

I try to be nice, I try to lift people up. But geezus a Christopher Columbus can’t everyone just be normal?!?!!!!
I have a visual of what people like that look like… it’s not pretty so don’t say you didn’t have a warning beforehand.

Please tell me that you haven’t all thought that’s what the trolls look like… Although I do kind of hope they have at least a bra on cause ew.
I actually feel really bad for the people who go out of their way to make others feel badly… That’s probably pretty much all they have.
But for people like me and MOST of my friends?  Fb is a place to play, relax, and take a break from our real life. What if this is all they have??? Should we care? Please go back and look and the first picture in this little story.
I may be done with my tiny rant now…

Ignoring Everything Other Than Fb

You ever have one of those days when you want to ignore everyone you know in real life, and will only speak to the ones you know via fb messenger? And then there’s that ONE person who takes all the energy you have put into doing nothing seem like a wasted goal.

I enjoy my fb people, it makes life more… interesting. I hate the drama and people who all of a sudden have a spine because they can sit behind a machine. I doubt very seriously that some of these women would have the Nuggets to say even half of what’s said online to say… my face.

I try to be nice, I try to lift people up. But geezus a Christopher Columbus can’t everyone just be normal?!?!!!!
I have a visual of what people like that look like… it’s not pretty so don’t say you didn’t have a warning beforehand.

Please tell me that you haven’t all thought that’s what the trolls look like… Although I do kind of hope they have at least a bra on cause ew.
I actually feel really bad for the people who go out of their way to make others feel badly… That’s probably pretty much all they have.
But for people like me and MOST of my friends?  Fb is a place to play, relax, and take a break from our real life. What if this is all they have??? Should we care? Please go back and look and the first picture in this little story.
I may be done with my tiny rant now…

My Theory On Why Some Men Are Brain Dead

I don’t want anyone to think that I don’t love men, I do. Well, man. I love the hubster, but don’t tell him that becuase then he will get all mushy and ew. 

But I have a theory, the same one I have had for YEARS about why men are just… RETARDED. If that word offends you, fine, STUPID. Why men can and WILL be stupid. Not ALL of them mind you, just some…

You know how when babies (cute tiny little babies who are cuddly and love the kisses from mommy and love having their cute little cheeks blown on to make funny noises), are starting to walk, and parents get all crazy moving everything out of the way in fear of that cute tiny little mini me getting hurt starts to happen? And then those cute little toddlers start doing things that aren’t so… cute anymore? Like when they rip their diapers off and run around the house making you chase them so you dont have to clean up their pee like you would for a pet gone wild??? 

HERE is where the theory comes in…

BOYS… Little boys who rip their diapers off and run around like a chicken with their heads cut off, and have their little nuggets clanking (how else am I SUPPOSED to explain that) on the insides of their thighs with NO PAIN WHAT SO EVER? I think that is when it starts… Because if a GROWN man even so much as NICKS his nuggets, he is in a fetal posisition whining for his dear life. 

NOW… WHAT IF!!! What if there is only so much the nuggets can take? AND WHAT IF when the boys are being *babies* they ruin all of what is alloted in pain to the nuggets and therefore make it to where it’s all *brain damaged* due to trauma caused by said nugget banging??? I only think this because I have never EVER seen a toddler running around and screaming in pain becuase said nuggets were being clanked around like there is no tomorrow. ALSO, I have had a few male friends who were in wheelchairs who were never ever as retarded as the average male. 

WHAT IF the *brain damage* causes men to be stupid and lacking emotional maturity? Have you ever met a man who was in a wheelchair (from birth) be mean, insinscere and cruel??? I haven’t! 

I think I am onto something here… A girl can rip her diaper off, run around, and still be normal. But a boy does it and that is when it all starts to go downhill… 

Now… Someone needs to gimme a trophy for figuring out when the differences between us and them starts! 

The Hair Salon

Most women LOVE getting their hair done. There are some that do it out of obligation, I am not one of them. I am the kind of woman who plans my DAY around getting my hair done. The next to scalding hot water running over my scalp while the stylist is massaging my head… I can feel the euphoria as I type (Maybe because I went and got my hair done today). Sadly, that was the ONLY good thing that happenned at the salon today.

I LOVE my stylist, she is AMAZING. The fact that she hasn’t messed my hair up ONCE makes her one of my favorite people… Her coworkers? I despise. Let me give you a few examples WHY I despise and am disgusted by them.

When I pulled up, I saw the male stylist sitting outside of the front door on a skateboard, smoking a cigarette. I waited until he was finished putting it out before I walked in because ew, I don’t want to smell like that OR walk through a cloud of smoke to get my hair done. 

Her other coworker… SIGH. The one who INSISTS on hugging you because she at one point had done your hair and feel as if it’s necessary to stake a claim on you, EVEN THOUGH someone else is doing your hair? Yeah… I have actually told her before that I do NOT like being touched, but she ignored it and continues to do it. I feel like I am a tree and she is the dog, it is so bizzare. 

NOW… The owner. I didn’t even KNOW she was the owner because of the way she stood outside with her employees and family members? smoking. BY THE FRONT DOOR. It was disgusting to see, but what was worse was when she walked by me and the smell made me gag. Horrible and wretched smell, and omg… 

Then the other employee. The one who is snippy because she didn’t get me to make the appointment with her when I called to make the appointment with MY stylist. The one who will complain about EVERYTHING my sweet stylist does, because NOTHING will ever be good enough because she isn’t getting that tip. 

My hair turned out exactly the way I wanted it, my sweet stylist knows how to deal with curly hair. But when you go to an establishment expecting class and an aire of serenity and instead get a vagrant looking stylist coming in and telling me how he is homeless now, have another stylist hugging you with the lingering smell of chain smoke, and snippy, catty women? It KIND of takes the enjoyment out of what it was SUPPOSED to be. I may have to just pay her more to come to me to avoid such trashiness…

My daughter really wanted to get her eyebrows done but refused to go back because of the drama, and the fact that the vagrant looking stylist insisted on calling her *chic*, which I have REPEATEDLY embedded into my daughter’s brain that she is not. She is a young lady, a female, and someday a WOMAN. A chic? NO. I find it to be derogatory and belittling. It is just one of those words that sets a fire inside of me. When I asked him NICELY to not refer to her as such he laughed it off and called me a hen. NOW. If my daughter had NOT been with me, things would have turned out differently. She refuses to go back… She is a smart young lady. 

Glow 2 go review + GIVEAWAY

Glow 2 go review + GIVEAWAY.

 

 

 

Enter mah friends giveaway tooooooo!

Dr. Jart+ Black Label Detox

 

Let me start by saying this is the one of the 5 things I would grab from my house if there was a fire. Yes, it’s THAT amazing.

When I ordered it, I was desperate because, well, my skin has issues. (Maybe has a little something to do with the face that I don’t always have time to put into proper makeup applications,  or by the end of the day I’m just too tired to take my makeup off? I digress…)
My first thought when I opened it was “YAAAAY! NO MORE YUCKY PORES!!!” And then I actually looked at the box.

The cute little bunny that says cruelty free next to it? That makes me happy. Not happy enough to buy a bunny or anything like that, but made me say awww, yaaay and smile.

It may LOOK small, but this little bottle packs a PUNCH! A little bit goes a LONG way…

That’s only 1 pump, and although that doesn’t look like a lot either, it covers a LOT. That one pump will cover my T-zone! The directions are so simple that my husband could follow them! If he read directions…

Here’s what else I love… where it says “contains” and gives you WHAT the ingredients are used for?! Yes. Just yes.
So. I put it on my face, wait for the 10 minutes, because 5 just didn’t seem like it was long enough to me, and I feel nothing. It’s just kind of… wet. Not in the weird way though, it kind of felt like any regular mask.
Until I started to gently massage my skin. That’s when the magic happened. I could feel, I mean FEEL it working. The loosening of blackheads and whatever else (ew) that was under my skin was under my skin no more!!! I was in shock… I rinsed my face with warm water and then looked in my mirror.
I’m not going to post a picture of the nasty I got out of my face, but it’s forever in my brain. I’ll never not own it…
24.00 dollars DID and DOES buy my happiness,  which is what this little bad boy bottle retails at.

Click here to enter the giveaway for the Dr. Jart+ Pore Penetrator

I am not responsible for product loss or damage, and its void where prohibited. This giveaway is in no way affiliated with Dr. Jart, just me, Kizzy.

Not a rant ;)

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The Crumbling Shoes

Do you know how you see movies with people who slowly start to disappear, usually from their feet up? That was me this afternoon.
I was getting ready to leave, so I  put my boots on. I love these boots, I always put them on the very last second possible when I’m leaving the house because I don’t want pet hair or puppy slobber anywhere near them.  They are amazingly comfortable,  and I loooove the deep red color, and hello @@ who DOESN’T love Coach? (I don’t anymore)
Anywhoodles!  While I was walking through the house I felt something stick to the bottom of my shoes… I thought “oh no. I am NOT going to clean up someone else’s mess right now” because I really just wanted to goooooo. So I refused to look for the mess… I figured I’d just clean my boots in the car with the baby wipes I store in there for emergencies.
But then I felt off balance… Even though I’m all hurt and stuff, I hadn’t felt off balance or anything so then I figured I had rehurt myself. My next thought was “how the crap am I going to talk my doctor into not making me wear the stupid air brace again”…
Aaaaand then I looked down.
I saw this black piles of… I didn’t even know. I thought maybe one of the pups decided to be a jerkface or something else ew… I OBVIOUSLY wasn’t going to touch it cause EW! But then I realized that the piles of black ew were exactly where I had stepped and I thought ok so I stepped in some ew and left prints around the house. But then I looked at the bottom of my boot.
Now. I cannot even begin to explain what went through my head.
My. Boots. Were. Disintegrating. Beneath. Me. Like………. CRUMBLING BENEATH ME! Weirdest. Thing. Ever. I took my boot off and just kind of… stared at it for a minute because IS THIS REALLY GOING ON OR DO I NEED MORE SLEEP. I don’t think I moved for a few minutes and I heard the theme song of Jaws playing in my head for some reason.
Now I need another pair of boots. Preferably ones that won’t make me feel like I’m going crazy. #wontignorethestickyagain

Don’t mind the pet hair… There is NOTHING I can do to fix THAT.

See that big chunk taken out of the side??? I almost fell over when I took a step because the WHOLE RIGHT SIDE JUST CRUMBLED AWAY!