Of course I'm talking about a vibrating mascara. What else could it be?

For the unenlightened gender among you, mascara is an integral part of a woman's life -- if she only has 30 seconds to put on some makeup before rushing out the door in the morning, she would put on mascara alone. (So next time you see a girl with luxurious long lashes and think she's born with it -- remember what your friend Jackie told you: it's Maybelline.)

But what distinguishes this mascara, called "Maybelline Pulse Perfection", is that it has a small built-in motor engine, so when you touch a button, it delivers 7000 vibrations per minute, which promises efficient separation, lengthening, and curling of the lashes. The operating word here is "efficient" -- because who wouldn't want a motor engine to accomplish what you so painfully have to do yourself? I found myself liking this pulsating mascara a lot so thought it would be fun to share.

Amidst the recent financial market crisis and the looming economic recession, I've jolted reading fiction and taken to reading the business news with a passion even unknown to myself. Not that I'm particularly worried about my own financial situation (my retirement account has shrunk by 40%, but that's beside the point), but the news coverage of the financial crisis has given rise to some of the most interesting journalistic writings of our time.

Here is an example taken from today's Wall Street Journal, on the historic meeting where Treasury Secretary Henry Paulson virtually coerced the nation's top bankers into accepting the government's $250 billion capital injection plan. An excerpt:

"The meeting took place in the Treasury secretary's conference room, which faces a courtyard and is outfitted with mahogany chairs, antique wall sconces and chandeliers.

" It struck some of those in the room as fortunate that Citigroup Inc. and Wells Fargo are so far apart in the alphabet. ... at least the heads of the two rivals, Mr. Kovacevich and Citigroup Chief Executive Vikram Pandit, wouldn't have to sit next to each other.

"After Mr. Kovacevich voiced his concerns [about the necessity of the partial nationalization of banks], Mr. Paulson described the deal starkly. He told the Wells Fargo chairman he could accept the government's money or risk going without the infusion. If the company found it needed capital later and Mr. Kovacevich couldn't raise money privately, Mr. Paulson promised the government wouldn't be so generous the second time around.

"Mr. Bernanke said the situation was the worst the country had endured since the Great Depression. He said action was for the collective good, an understated appeal. The room was silent as he described the economy's fragile condition.

"Mr. Geithner, whose job as New York Fed chief makes him the central bank's main man on Wall Street, delivered the most sobering news. He described how much preferred stock the government was going to buy from each firm. The government would take $25 billion in Citigroup, $10 billion in Goldman Sachs Group Inc., and so on. ...

"The meeting ended at about 4 p.m. By 6:30 p.m., all of the sheets had been turned in and signed by the CEOs. No second meeting was held."

What narratives! The article possesses more tension than five John Grisham novels combined, a style as stoically understated as Hemingway, some comic relief, many colorful characters, and a sparing ending that secretly begs sober questions.  And all in a short few paragraphs. How could you possibly beat that?

I guess reading the newspapers will suffice to entertain me in the next few months -- who can afford to buy books these days anyway?