The Big Break-Out

Well, the city life doesn't seem to be agreeing so well with my skin.

Hence the name 'big break-out'. 

Not that I have big red zits all over my face all of the sudden, thank god.

No, it's more like thousands of little bumps and a couple of bugger painful ones.

And oily and dry spots.

I'm so not pleased. It must be a combination of stress and filthy air that's making my skin act up.

Anyway, it meant I had to put on a lot of foundation and powder for the premiere wednesday.

I looked awesome tough. And that's not me being vain, but a simple fact. I know, because every guy I passed on the way there turned to look. 

Ha, that's right, I'm hot.

My cousin didn't seem quite so happy with it though. He was being all protective and adorable insulted in a 'how dare you look at her like that, pervert?!' kind of way.

I felt mildly insulted by the looking, but mostly just flathered.

To give you an explanation and an idea of what I looked like: short, tight black dress, killer heels, bare legs (didn't have a matching panty, it was very cold though) ans a long blazer.

Unfortunatly I don't have a picture.

The fact that I was slightly overdressed (So was my cousin) didn't bother me (he was), because I always tend to be overdressed. 

I can't help it, I just love dresses, waistskirts and heels. I'm used to it now.

Because I have to wear pants and comfi shoes at work (cold and lots of standing) I try to express mxself with bright colours and a folklorisch kind of style. I stand out between all the jeans and black, that's for sure.

So, that was a long blog about my looks.

Which don't really seem to interest anyone, as I have been flirted with maybe twice since I'm here. Not that I really mind, most of the guys here aren't exactly worth flirting with. 

But I have a birthday party of a friend tonight, so I'm hoping he has some good looking friends.

I'm even starting to apreciate the dutch boys, they might be bad at flirting, but at least they try every once in a while.

(Beyonce - Sweet Dreams) 

If I Was A Superhero...

...My name would be 'Iron Girl'.

And I do not mean that is a 'superstrong-and-indestructable-and-therefor-supercool' kind of way, but in a 'if-there-was-a-country-for-people-who-iron-they-would-surely-crown-me-queen' kind of way.
Seriously, I iron a lot thes days.
It's the main part of my job.

I never ironed back home. I mean, I did once or twice, but I never had to.
When I move out, I should start a company or something.
'Cause I'm gonna kick ass at it after this inturnship.

Anyway, I just wanted to share that piece or uninteresting and completely irrelevant information.
I don't have time to write anything big, because my aunt's new movie premieres tonight and I get to walk the red carpet.
No let me refrase: rock the rd carpet.
I'm so excited!
Obviously.
My new shoes are kick ass. They're wine red with golden studs and peep toes.
And killer heels. I love high heels.

So , just before I hit the shower.
(I'm seriously running out of time here)
I have to say, I don't think costume design or television is my calling.
The fact that I'm more interested in what we have for lunch (omg, the catering is amazing) seems like a very large clue.
Even though I'm getting good at ironing.

Wow. That's really kind of sad...




(Leighton Meester - Betty Davis Eyes)