Goo.

Hello.  My name is Niff.  And I am a Goo Hoarder.

The below media is intended for educational purposes only:

Fortunately my Goo seems to be restricted to lip adornment and has not yet evolved into hair care or nail polish.  Which is probably best, because as I have four housemates, space is limited.

Allow me to demonstrate:

Goo

So. This was the mass of products just in my backpack. This doesn’t count the ridiculous cacophony of pink tubes stashed away in the wicker baskets under my bed. Sephora LOVES me.  The number of points I’ve burned through is completely mad.  I acknowledge this isn’t healthy.  I realize that there isn’t a single person who needs all of this crap for their face.  I suppose I could find some comfort in knowing that I am not alone in my addiction…but not really.

I seriously don’t think I’ve finished a tube in my life.  I go to the drugstore for ibuprofen and walk out with Goo.  I go to Nordstrom for shoes…walk out with Goo.  Groceries?  Yeah.  Goo.  You will notice that all of the colors above are basically the same bloody color.  But I keep accumulating more, as if they will suddenly halt all Goo production and I will be left with Goo-less lips.  People have Zombie Plans but what about a Goo-Drought contingency?  Yeah.

Oddly enough, Goo is ridiculously cumbersome, despite what would, in all appearances, seem like an obsessive love affair: it attracts hair like freaking velcro and then you get to pull your Goo-covered hair off of your face.  It’s like face mortar.  And for some inexplicable reason, during my morning prep routine, in what I’m sure is a misplaced sense of efficiency, I plop this slimy mess on before I engage in my dental hygiene regimen.  Which means that not only have I successfully removed all of the afore-applied Goo, but now the crap is all over my hands and toothbrush and, somehow, my face.  I acknowledge this may be user error.  I think my body is absorbing all of this Goo, the lipids are being transported into my blood stream where they are carried to my brain and thusly clog all the areas of my brain responsible for rational decision-making skills.  Seriously.  Like some kind of Goo-induced aneurism.  Gooneurism.  Jesus, see?  No sane person comes up with that shit.

Voulez-voulez-vous I NEED THAT SCIENCE.

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