When my hair is curly, I use Suave coconut conditioner. It's not a leave-in, but I use it like one. It is so light and really brings out my hair's curl. A lot of leave-ins are too heavy, but this one is just perfect. When it's straight, I love Frederick Fekkai Tech Shampoo & Conditioner and their Olive Oil glossing cream.
Kit [Carson Kitteridge] watched me for a few moments before saying, "That was some impressive killing you did. Naked too." "I hope I didn't embarrass Office Palmer." "She said that after all she heard about you she thought your johnson would be bigger." "Tell her that the air conditioner was on.
Wen is one of my favorite products because it's one tub full of shampoo and conditioner, all in one. I really love that because it's so simple. Then I throw in some mousse and walk outside and let it air dry. That makes it really beachy and cool. I'm very low maintenance and that's what keeps your hair healthy - when you don't fuss with it as much.
Sissy Mae Smith... stumbled into the room loaded down with even more bags. "You pack like a woman, " she snarled when she finally dropped the luggage to the floor. "How can one man have so much conditioner?" His mouth filled with French toast, Mitch pointed at his hair and snarled, "Tawny mane! Do you think this shit stays this beautiful on its own? It needs care and love! Which is more than I'm getting from you!
My TWA enabled me to be done at the hair section much earlier than the other girls. I washed my hair and put some conditioner at home before heading to the Armory, where the show took place. The hairstylist basically only had to put some spray so that my TWA would be looking its best. It took the hairstylist literally 10 seconds.
Around shows, when we're doing really strenuous stuff on my hair - styling with heat, adding things, braiding things, pinning things - I like to give my scalp and my hair a rest. We usually have a show once a week or so, so I try to deep condition with Pantene Daily 3 Minute Miracle Deep Conditioner once a week.
Imagine a ship that is sinking and needs all the available power to run the pumps to drain out the rising waters. The first class passengers refuse to cooperate because they feel hot and want to use the air-conditioner and other electrical appliances. The second-class passengers spend all their time trying to be upgraded to first-class status. The boat sinks and the passengers all drown. That is where the present approach to climate change is leading.
I gave someone a perverse argument not so long ago about why advertising is better than movies. You want to hear it? Movies operate from a really disingenuous premise, that people are heroes. I know a lot of people and have had an opportunity over the years to observe them. Are they heroes...? Let's put it this way. Advertising tries something simpler and more believable: Products as heroes. I guess the idea is: When all else fails, put your faith in conditioner.
Well, I'm sorry you couldn't make it either. I'm sorry I had to sit there in that church-which, by the way, had a broken air conditioner-sweating, watching all those people march down the aisle to look in my mother's casket and whisper to themselves all this mess about how much she looked like herself, even though she didn't. I'm sorry you weren't there to hear the lame choir drag out, song after song. I'm sorry you weren't there to see my dad try his best to be upbeat, cracking bad jokes in his speech, choking on his words. I'm sorry you weren't there to watch me totally lose it and explode into tears. I'm sorry you weren't there for me, but it doesn't matter, because even if you were, you wouldn't be able to feel what I feel. Nobody can. Even the preacher said so.
In the shower today I tried to think about the best advice I'd ever been given by another writer. There was something that someone said at my first Milford, about using style as a covering, but sooner or later you would have to walk naked down the street, that was useful... And then I remembered. It was Harlan Ellison about a decade ago. He said, "Hey. Gaiman. What's with the stubble? Every time I see you, you're stubbly. What is it? Some kind of English fashion statement?" "Not really." "Well? Don't they have razors in England for Chrissakes?" "If you must know, I don't like shaving because I have a really tough beard and sensitive skin. So by the time I've finished shaving I've usually scraped my face a bit. So I do it as little as possible." "Oh." He paused. "I've got that too. What you do is, you rub your stubble with hair conditioner. Leave it a couple of minutes, then wash it off. Then shave normally. Makes it really easy to shave. No scraping." I tried it. It works like a charm. Best advice from a writer I've ever received.
Bet you can't even name one romantic movie you like, " she teased. She felt smug when a few minutes went by and Oliver was still unable to name one romantic movie he could profess to enjoy. The Empire Strikes Back, " Oliver finally declared, tapping his horn at a Prius that wandered over the line. The Empire Strikes Back? The Star Wars movie? That's not romantic!" Schuyler huffed, fiddling with the air conditioner controls. Au contraire, my dear, it's very romantic. The last scene, you know, when they're about to put Han in that freezing cryogenic chamber or whatever? Remember?" Schuyler mmm-hmmmed. And Leia leans over the ledge and says, 'I love you.'" That's cheesy, not romatic, " Schuyler argued, although she did like that part. Let me explain. What's romantic is what Han says back. Remember what he says to her? After she says 'I love you'?" Schuyler grinned. Maybe Oliver had a point. "Han says, 'I know.'" Exactly, " Oliver tapped the wheel. "He doesn't have to say anything so trite as 'I love you." Because that's already understood. And that's romantic.
Melissa de la Cruz
No matter what a person does to cover up and conceal themselves, when we write and lose control, I can spot a person from Alabama, Florida, South Carolina a mile away even if they make no exact reference to location. Their words are lush like the land they come from, filled with nine aunties, people named Bubba. There is something extravagant and wild about what they have to say - snakes on the roof of a car, swamps, a delta, sweat, the smell of sea, buzz of an air conditioner, Coca-Cola - something fertile, with a hidden danger or shame, thick like the humidity, unspoken yet ever-present. Often when a southerner reads, the members of the class look at each other, and you can hear them thinking, gee, I can't write like that. The power and force of the land is heard in the piece. These southerners know the names of what shrubs hang over what creek, what dogwood flowers bloom what color, what kind of soil is under their feet. I tease the class, "Pay no mind. It's the southern writing gene. The rest of us have to toil away.
GIRL YOU WAKE ME TO THE SMELL OF BUTTER SUNLIGHT SHONE THROUGH WOODEN SHUTTERS NAKED SEX AND CUFFED BREAST EARLY MORNING BACK TO TEST POURING RAIN AND RUBBER SUIT COTTON SOCKS AND RUBBER BOOTS I SPRINT ACROSS THE PARKING LOT 'CAUSE THAT DAY WE WERE UNPREPARED DRIED OUR SOCKS AND ON THE STAIRS SOUND OF RAIN IS RAIN IN GUTTERS LIGHTNING SEVEN SECONDS THUNDER A MILD SNACK LATE EVENING HUNGER DVDS AND VCRS FISH TANKS AND JELLY JARS THE STORM PASSES THE ROOM OURS THE SUMMER TIMES AND YOU MOVE SAFETY BELT IN SUMMER CARS LIGHTNING BUGS TO DIE IN JARS THE AIR CONDITIONER SAVING GRACE GRASS STAINS AND FLUSHED FACE REFRESHING LIKE A GLASS OF MILK YOUR SHAVEN LEGS WERE LIKE SILK YOU KISS ME LIKE A BON VOYAGE A SECRET SOUVENIR COLLAGE OVERALLS AND WATER PARKS T-TOPS AND BABY SHARKS DRAGON ROLLS AND FROZEN JUICE MAKING OUT IN PHOTO BOOTHS A LOVELY SATURDAY NIGHT ALONE FULL OF FILMS AND BAKING PIES NOT COTTON SWABS AND BLOODY LIES I'LL PAY YOU BACK IN PLASTIC EYES
Buck 65 Remix
To escape the throngs, we decided to see the new Neil Degrasse Tyson planetarium show, Dark Universe. It costs more than two movie tickets and is less than thirty minutes long, but still I want to go back and see it again, preferably as soon as possible. It was more visually stunning than any Hollywood special effect I'd ever seen, making our smallness as individuals both staggering and - strangely - rather comforting. Only five percent of the universe consists of ordinary matter, Neil tells us. That includes all matter - you, and me, and the body of Michael Brown, and Mork's rainbow suspenders, and the letters I wrote all summer, and the air conditioner I put out on the curb on Christmas Day because I was tired of looking at it and being reminded of the person who had installed it, and my sad dying computer that sounds like a swarm of bees when it gets too hot, and the fields of Point Reyes, and this year's blossoms which are dust now, and the drafts of my book, and Israeli tanks, and the untaxed cigarettes that Eric Garner sold, and my father's ill-fitting leg brace that did not accomplish what he'd hoped for in terms of restoring mobility, and the Denver airport, and haunting sperm whales that sleep vertically, and the water they sleep in, and Mars and Jupiter and all of the stars we see and all of the ones we don't. That's all regular matter, just five percent. A quarter is 'dark matter, ' which is invisible and detectable only by gravitational pull, and a whopping 70 percent of the universe is made up of 'dark energy, ' described as a cosmic antigravity, as yet totally unknowable. It's basically all mystery out there - all of it, with just this one sliver of knowable, livable, finite light and life. And did I mention the effects were really cool? After seeing something like that it's hard to stay mad at anyone, even yourself.
There was no Disney World then, just rows of orange trees. Millions of them. Stretching for miles And somewhere near the middle was the Citrus Tower, which the tourists climbed to see even more orange trees. Every month an eighty-year-old couple became lost in the groves, driving up and down identical rows for days until they were spotted by helicopter or another tourist on top of the Citrus Tower. They had lived on nothing but oranges and come out of the trees drilled on vitamin C and checked into the honeymoon suite at the nearest bed-and-breakfast. "The Miami Seaquarium put in a monorail and rockets started going off at Cape Canaveral, making us feel like we were on the frontier of the future. Disney bought up everything north of Lake Okeechobee, preparing to shove the future down our throats sideways. "Things evolved rapidly! Missile silos in Cuba. Bales on the beach. Alligators are almost extinct and then they aren't. Juntas hanging shingles in Boca Raton. Richard Nixon and Bebe Rebozo skinny-dipping off Key Biscayne. We atone for atrocities against the INdians by playing Bingo. Shark fetuses in formaldehyde jars, roadside gecko farms, tourists waddling around waffle houses like flocks of flightless birds. And before we know it, we have The New Florida, underplanned, overbuilt and ripe for a killer hurricane that'll knock that giant geodesic dome at Epcot down the trunpike like a golf ball, a solid one-wood by Buckminster Fuller. "I am the native and this is my home. Faded pastels, and Spanish tiles constantly slipping off roofs, shattering on the sidewalk. Dogs with mange and skateboard punks with mange roaming through yards, knocking over garbage cans. Lunatics wandering the streets at night, talking about spaceships. Bail bondsmen wake me up at three A.M. looking for the last tenant. Next door, a mail-order bride is clubbed by a smelly ma in a mechanic's shirt. Cats violently mate under my windows and rats break-dance in the drop ceiling. And I'm lying in bed with a broken air conditioner, sweating and sipping lemonade through a straw. And I'm thinking, geez, this used to be a great state. "You wanna come to Florida? You get a discount on theme-park tickets and find out you just bough a time share. Or maybe you end up at Cape Canaveral, sitting in a field for a week as a space shuttle launch is canceled six times. And suddenly vacation is over, you have to catch a plane, and you see the shuttle take off on TV at the airport. But you keep coming back, year after year, and one day you find you're eighty years old driving through an orange grove.