(via Opening up the Tooth Fairy File: Exploring our dental history collection - O Say Can You See?)

Hand-carved ivory “necessaire,” 1808. A well-heeled person in 1808 might have used a necessaire similar to this one for personal grooming. It is hand-carved from ivory with a dog on the tip and includes a tooth brush, tooth picks, nail file, and a tiny ear wax spoon.

Anonymous asked realsocialskills:

Sort of random, but are nail clippings considered gross? I’ve never thought twice about nail clippings before, but I just recently found out some people consider them on the same level as boogers. One of my friends was clipping his nails in a shared housing area and another person told him that was gross and to do it in the bathroom. I personally don’t find it gross, but am I just missing out on some common social cue here?

realsocialskills said: I think nail clippings are generally considered gross. What do y'all think?

How To Get A Haircut: 

  1. Wait at least 1-2 weeks longer than you should before you start REALLY thinking about getting a haircut. 
  2. Wait another week. 
  3. Realize you have a wedding/funeral/party where that woman you really want to take out on a date might be there in a couple weeks. 
  4. Google “barber." 
  5. Search Yelp for "barber." 
  6. Fall into a Yelp rabbit hole of hate-reading stupid Yelp reviews from stupid Yelpers. 
  7. Tweet about how terrible Yelp is with screengrabs of stupid Yelp reviews from stupid Yelpers. 
  8. Give up. 
  9. Wait a couple days. 
  10. The wedding/funeral/party where that woman you really want to take out on a date might be there is in like NEXT week. 
  11. Wait three more days. 
  12. Realize your hats don’t even fit right anymore. 
  13. Ok, now it’s serious. 
  14. Google 
  15. Yelp 
  16. Ask Twitter 
  17. Sift through a bunch of dumb joke answers. 
  18. Decide on a place based solely on the ability to make an appointment online without having to talk to anyone on the phone. 
  19. Jesus this website is fucking terrible. 
  20. Try to make an appointment online. 
  21. Jesus this website is fucking terrible. 
  22. Try to make an appointment online. 
  23. I mean seriously why even HAVE a "make an appointment” section of the website if it’s going to be this disastrously terrible. 
  24. Give up. 
  25. Ok seriously grunge isn’t coming back we need to do something about this. 
  26. Do the thing you hate most in the world and make a fucking phone call. 
  27. Attempt to explain in detail WHY you need a haircut as if it’s the first haircut in the history of hair or scissors. 
  28. Take whatever appointment they have available. 
  29. Hang up. 
  30. Lie down for a little while because that was exhausting. 
  31. On the day of your appointment show up 20 minutes early. 
  32. Go down the street to a bar. 
  33. Beer. 
  34. Realize you’re going to be late. 
  35. Rush back to the barber. 
  36. Explain in detail WHY you need a haircut as if it’s the first haircut in the history of clippers and styling product. 
  37. Get the damn haircut. 
  38. It takes like 15 minutes. 
  39. Politely decline the beard trim because The Beard stays, YOU GO!
  40. Pay 
  41. Tip 
  42. Worry about the tip amount and if you tipped enough. 
  43. Continue to worry about the tip amount and if you tipped enough for like the next three hours. 
  44. Put on your hat. 
  45. Leave. 

Previous how-tos you might find helpful: Waffle, tacoscookies, & waking up.

Will growing up bring us down.

Understand that in this sport we live in a world of make believe, separate from reality. While other girls played with toy horses, we got the real thing. While other girls rode carpool, we rode thoroughbreds. This is not normal.

I didn’t grow up with personal grooms and imported warmbloods, but I had a pony, which is basically all the same to a 12 year old. A horse was a horse in my eyes, even if he technically was a pony. Then I got my thoroughbred. My parents had always told me that they weren’t going to buy me a horse. Haha, suckers.

I think high school is one of the first places that reality starts setting in. Fresh out of middle school, you’re suddenly surrounded by new peers and new hormones. Horses are no longer “cool”. You know what’s cool? Boys. And drinking half of a beer. That’s super cool. You have the choice to be the weird horse girl, or to be accepted by your peers. Sadly, too many girls choose incorrectly.

But it doesn’t get easier. Let’s say you choose to be the girl who wears jeans and muddy boots to third period… First off, congratulations. Now what? Well you’re a smart girl, obviously you’re going to go to college. This is where we loose some more of our fellow equestrians to that bitch called reality. Going away to school, its pretty hard to take a horse with you. So many equestrians pack up their boots, and call it a day. It was a good one, wasn’t it?

My heart goes out to anyone who had to trade their Stubben for student loans. There’s a lucky few, of which I consider myself to be, who don’t have to give up privilege of smelling like a barn to get a bachelor’s degree. I was truly lucky, the university that I chose has a barn on campus. So some of us ride throughout college, living in our fantasy world a little longer. But the fantasy starts to wear off. Paying for tuition and Tailored Sportsmans can put a strain on your credit card. We compromise, putting our horses needs before our own. Those new Parlantis are gonna have to wait, because I’ve got to buy textbooks and beet pulp.

I graduate from university this spring, and I can feel reality waiting for me, like hungry predator, waiting for its dinner. It’s just around the corner, and I’m not ready.  One of my friends told me how she plans to give up riding once college is over, focusing on a career, now that her parents won’t be there to pay for everything. Another friend is off to vet school, Davis, one of the best. She is taking her warmblood with her, because what is a few more thousand dollars in board when she will already be swimming in debt from those student loans. Then there is me. I don’t know what I am going to do.

There is that point in everyone’s life where they have to leave the nest, and make it on their own. It’s scary. And its even scarier to have to do that when you have a 1500lb animal to feed and take care of.

I feel like a lot of older women get back into the sport after they have made a comfortable life for themselves. But I don’t want to grow up, I don’t want to leave this fantasy.

So it’s do or die. Its the pivotal moment in my life. This is the part of the movie where the main character makes a choice that will affect them for the rest of their life, it will define who the end up becoming.

And I just want to go to the barn, ride off into the sunset and run away from it all.

There’s a bunch of controversy regarding men requiring women to shave, the societal pressure to shave legs, pits, et cetera. Personally, I don’t mind a little leg-stubble, or even plain hairy legs, as long as we’re talking soft and downy and not thick, dark and bristly. Also, and this may or may not surprise you, I find unshaven armpits on hot ladies super fucking sexy. I will never be turned off by pit-fur, no no no.

The only thing I must really insist upon, ladies, is that if you have a noticeable mustache, please shave it. That’s all. It’s not such a big deal. I also like a well-manicured down there area.

But hairy underarms? Be still my throbbing boner.


How is your skincare routine a question of etiquette or manners? I’ve seen etiquette websites and popular magazines that say it is polite to go out wearing foundation and concealer wherever you go, and that presenting anything less than a flawless face to society is a faux pas. I strongly disagree. While I would agree that presenting your “best self” in terms of appearance is important, sometimes that means presenting your healthiest self.

Quite a few girls, especially under the age of 18, feel the need to wear foundation every day. Those who are extremely self-conscious of their skin will often cake on primer, foundation, and concealer in order to minimize or conceal flaws. What many people may not know is that this is a self-perpetuating cycle. Using products day after day to conceal blemishes is actually an excellent way to ensure that said blemishes will come back even greater in number.

Your skin needs to breathe. Mineral-based powers can clog your pores, and heavy liquid makeup will do the same, creating a bacteria-laden stew under the skin that will eventually result in even more blackheads, whiteheads, and irritation in general. Often you’ll find that easing up on the concealer and foundation will have a positive affect.The best thing that you can do for yourself if you have severe acne is to get treatment for it, be it with ProActiv, hormone therapy, or whatever works. Even if treatment isn’t an option or you don’t need it, everyone should strive to maintain a daily skincare routine. Be sure to wash, tone, and moisturize your face once a day.

If you’ve been blessed with good skin, you should still follow a routine and try to apply foundation with a light touch and use it sparingly. If you haven’t or you’re in your teenage years and haven’t yet seen the end of your skincare woes, I would strongly suggest avoiding concealer and foundation all together. If you feel that you absolutely can’t, try products that offer a lighter coverage, such as tinted moisturizers. I personally believe that full-coverage makeup can be saved for special occasions and job interviews, especially for those with sensitive skin. Try to ignore any peer pressure and avoid looking on those airbrushed (and Photoshopped) magazine covers with envy, and rest easy doing what’s best for your skin-it’ll pay off in the long run.

Yep, I'm Gonna Grow a Beard (Again)

I saw a guy last night with the most remarkable lumberjack beard. It was just this perfect, well-groomed chin-afro. I gotta have that. I know I’ll just get frustrated and shave it all off in a couple of months, but it seems like a good idea right now.

These things always seem like good ideas in the morning when you’re feeling too lazy to shave.

Tonight I took a very hot bubble bath and filed my postpartum dragon feet (seriously, with each kid they get more gnarly; Baby B is almost nine months and they are not improved) and moisturized and now I’m wearing new flannel jammies and spa socks and just, like, continually marveling at how I am temporarily NOT FILTHY.

The best thing about going back to work next month may well be the incentive to take regular showers.