As a side job, I’m a freelance makeup artist. I’m currently doing makeup for an artsy fashion show. Last night, I met with the team designing the garment and we started discussing the makeup they wanted to achieve. The model wasn’t able to come to the meeting so they were concerned I wouldn’t capture their vision. Here’s how the conversation went:

Heidi -  So are you good with what we’re wanting on the makeup?

Me – No problem. I’ll play around with some ideas before the show.

Heidi – Well, how will you do that if the model isn’t around?

Me – Oh, I really don’t need the model initially, I’ll just play with myself… I do it all the time.

silence..

CENTRAL NERVOUS SYSTEM, SOME HELP….PLEASE!!!! For the love of no filter! What I meant was, “I’ll experiment with the makeup on my own face before I do a run-through with the model.”  Because I blab before braining, I communicated that I would just masturbate until I met the model. I guess every artist has their own way of  procreating brilliance.

I  have no doubt she knew what I really meant, but it’s just embarrassing that I couldn’t mold my thought into an intelligent reply. My slips are always sexual implications to strangers or clients, rarely to friends or family that would dismiss it as a Lauren Moment. Ahh…. Freud.. I am the poster child of your life’s work.