I'm no style guru or fashionista, and I may wear my underwear up to my collarbone, but I want to pants and then give a wedgie to every guy I see sagging his jeans below his ass. I'm usually not one to judge (much), but doubleyew-tee-eff, guys.
Eugenio and I actually saw jeans fall off a grown man a few weeks ago. Halfway dressed, he was bent over, digging in his car for something -- a belt? -- when the jeans dropped, in the parking lot. It took him a few moments to feel the breeze and realize something was amiss. Then he swooped up his pants, -- all the way this time -- making eye contact with the giggling school girl, me, mouthed "sorry" and then but a hand over his mouth as if to say "oopsie." His reaction was innocently cute and didn't match his Mr. Saggy Pants image. I'm glad he didn't take offense to my uncontrollable laughter and failure to avert my eyes.
As I age and become more mature (pronounced ma-toor here), I've learned to attempt understanding before or, when I slip, while and after passing judgement. I so badly want to tap a saggy pants lad on the shoulder to ask, "Why do you wear your pants like that? Just asking." Maybe he's in a hurry. Maybe wearing his pants below his crotch makes going to the restroom easier. Maybe he, falsely, assumes it looks good. Maybe he knows one day he might gain 100 lbs, so he's saving time and money by buying bigger pants now. Maybe he just likes showing off his almost clean whitey tighties....All these are crap reasons. I just don't get it! I had a similar thought process when considering why people choose to wear wedgies called thongs.
Speaking of wedgies, I am reminded of my youngest sister, Molly, when she was about three or four years old. Thinking about her back then makes me laugh out loud. She was a cutey patootey always getting things -- like remote control cars and gum-- stuck in her tangly, curly red hair. Hair funnies aside, Molly also made up the word "buttchie." While acquiring the Carr family language, she mistook "wedgie" for "buttchie" assuming that a "buttchie" was when you had an itch on your bum. She would go around scratching, saying "I have a buttchie." Eugenio, knowing this story and appreciating the grammar, now likes to announce when he has an "armchie," "leggchie" or other unmentionable-chies. I think it's useful grammar.
Showing posts with label Funsies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Funsies. Show all posts
Friday, October 8, 2010
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Adsense
Before I get to the real story, let me explain something...
Each time I publish a new post, Blogger informs me that I can make money by configuring Adsense in my blog, basically enabling random ads that may relate to my blogs contents to appear on my page. I suspect the generated ads will miss the mark. I mentioned the Justin Bieber song that goes "baby, baby, baby, oh baby" in one post, and Blogger told me, as it does each time I post, Make money by configuring Google Adsense. To give me an example of what I was missing, Blogger displayed an ad for Justin Bieber Live tickets. I hold my friends and family in high esteem, and thus assume that none would click on any impersonal, equation generated ads annoyingly situated in the sidebar. I also like to think your attention is on my post and not advertisements. Besides, I'd rather endorse products that have personally touched my life in a special way. I want the control to keep it real. Apparently, Blogger tells me, I can do that too! I can casually mention the products I'm using, as I pepper posts with details about my day, and simultaneously include links so that my fans can buy the same bags, booze and pregnancy tests (No worries buying these online, I get them at the dollar store, right by the check out lane) as yours truly. Since money is tight right now, hey, why not.
So every now and then you may see blue ink in my blog. Help a sister out and clicky click away. But please, I hope this doesn't distract from the writing at hand. I vow to not get greedy and rampantly mention products I don't actually use simply to make a buck. Anyhoo...
Yesterday I got my period all over our cream colored couch. I'm not proud of this, but I'm trying to find meaning in my life these days, and I'm beginning to believe that my gift of a purpose in life is to make you feel better about yourself.
I was enjoying the breeze in my towel-dress for a few hours, before putting on my stifling, albeit sexy, granny panties and jammies. I watched a soccer game with Eugenio (this is how I test my Spanish; I know more Spanish than soccer), and then we watched The Office online, since we happened to miss the premier on...whenever it came on. I don't know when, that's why we missed it. Anyhoo, before bed I noticed a big stain on the couch and was mortified to realize I forgot to wear a diaper. Oh eff! I even saw a line of red followed by another, smaller, red splotch displaying how I scooched on over from one side of the couch to the other to check my email at the computer. Eugenio quipped that we could just flip over the cushion, and if anyone were to see the stain, just say it's salsa. While I appreciate his creativity, I personally didn't want to sit on that couch anymore, let alone deceive any guests. Luckily for you, if you ever come over and I urge you to have a seat, you don't have to worry about any questionable stains, thanks to Woolite OXY DEEP. After church, I took my bloated and stinky (I was out of cucumber deodorant too) self on over to the store to inquire about cleaners for period stains. After the employee rudely pointed me in the right direction with a snooty grimace (these people in Orlando, I swear!), I found the cleaner, which promised to permanently remove tough stains, and went straight home to spray and scrub. It worked like a charm. I think this scenario would make a great commercial for Woolite OXY DEEP, which I can vouch for the label, is indeed "great for upholstery!" This blog is the only proof that anything ever happened. The only bummer against Woolite Oxy Deep is the smell. With an aroma reminiscent of Nix lice treatment, it made my head itch like I was in kindergarten again.
Each time I publish a new post, Blogger informs me that I can make money by configuring Adsense in my blog, basically enabling random ads that may relate to my blogs contents to appear on my page. I suspect the generated ads will miss the mark. I mentioned the Justin Bieber song that goes "baby, baby, baby, oh baby" in one post, and Blogger told me, as it does each time I post, Make money by configuring Google Adsense. To give me an example of what I was missing, Blogger displayed an ad for Justin Bieber Live tickets. I hold my friends and family in high esteem, and thus assume that none would click on any impersonal, equation generated ads annoyingly situated in the sidebar. I also like to think your attention is on my post and not advertisements. Besides, I'd rather endorse products that have personally touched my life in a special way. I want the control to keep it real. Apparently, Blogger tells me, I can do that too! I can casually mention the products I'm using, as I pepper posts with details about my day, and simultaneously include links so that my fans can buy the same bags, booze and pregnancy tests (No worries buying these online, I get them at the dollar store, right by the check out lane) as yours truly. Since money is tight right now, hey, why not.
So every now and then you may see blue ink in my blog. Help a sister out and clicky click away. But please, I hope this doesn't distract from the writing at hand. I vow to not get greedy and rampantly mention products I don't actually use simply to make a buck. Anyhoo...
Yesterday I got my period all over our cream colored couch. I'm not proud of this, but I'm trying to find meaning in my life these days, and I'm beginning to believe that my gift of a purpose in life is to make you feel better about yourself.
I was enjoying the breeze in my towel-dress for a few hours, before putting on my stifling, albeit sexy, granny panties and jammies. I watched a soccer game with Eugenio (this is how I test my Spanish; I know more Spanish than soccer), and then we watched The Office online, since we happened to miss the premier on...whenever it came on. I don't know when, that's why we missed it. Anyhoo, before bed I noticed a big stain on the couch and was mortified to realize I forgot to wear a diaper. Oh eff! I even saw a line of red followed by another, smaller, red splotch displaying how I scooched on over from one side of the couch to the other to check my email at the computer. Eugenio quipped that we could just flip over the cushion, and if anyone were to see the stain, just say it's salsa. While I appreciate his creativity, I personally didn't want to sit on that couch anymore, let alone deceive any guests. Luckily for you, if you ever come over and I urge you to have a seat, you don't have to worry about any questionable stains, thanks to Woolite OXY DEEP. After church, I took my bloated and stinky (I was out of cucumber deodorant too) self on over to the store to inquire about cleaners for period stains. After the employee rudely pointed me in the right direction with a snooty grimace (these people in Orlando, I swear!), I found the cleaner, which promised to permanently remove tough stains, and went straight home to spray and scrub. It worked like a charm. I think this scenario would make a great commercial for Woolite OXY DEEP, which I can vouch for the label, is indeed "great for upholstery!" This blog is the only proof that anything ever happened. The only bummer against Woolite Oxy Deep is the smell. With an aroma reminiscent of Nix lice treatment, it made my head itch like I was in kindergarten again.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Do Better
I need to do better. I feel lethargic and boring -- like when you have too much freedom, and get too much sleep. Too much is too much and not good. I'm not (always) lazy; I do things, but my perfectionist heart is dying for more obligatory To-Do stress, rather than the can I afford to eat? or is car insurance really necessary? variety.
That said, I'm also pretty busy. I'm not sure if I can squeeze a job in right now. I get eight to ten hours of sleep each night (for the first time ever). I run, read, and write. I wash and fold laundry, make dinner, and I watch bad, I mean Bravo, TV. I read a wide variety of news (omg!, Perez Hilton, The Onion, Oprah.com, etc, etc), since diversity of information is important. I volunteer at the animal shelter. Each day I learn un poco mas espanol. I open and read all my mail before throwing it all away. I keep a clean apartment, paranoid that one pile of mess will lead to an apartment worthy of an episode of Hoarders. I brush my teeth at least three times a day. Sometimes I floss. I never forget to wear sunscreen (anymore). I contemplate life. I'm comfortable and relaxed and I don't wear a bra when I'm alone, which is most of the time.
My schedule is done at a leisurely pace. Which is nice and not nice all the same. I feel unaccomplished and as if my ambition is suffocating. I have friends in law school, medical school, and graduate school, as well as friends with real jobs, and my roommate-slash-fiance is a doctor. I don't have a job or even a real skill set -- not that I believe my life worth is measured by competitive comparisons -- and I can't even give blood (I've tried several times). I have a business degree, which is more useless than a liberal arts degree, in my humble and broke as hell opinion. Most of my university classes (and classmates), aside from the non-major classes, left a bad taste in my mouth. I have no desire to capture consumer surplus or to increase the bottom line or to manage a consistent brand image, and I don't want to sell high or even buy low. I can't even convincingly lie about this cacophony in an interview. It's even harder to play the part when the job is part-time and low wage. "Why do you want this job?" the interviewer asks, with a too high pitched voice and a condescending smile. Because I just LOVE working for minimum wage while ruthlessly selling store credit cards to enslave people who can't afford the heavily marked up branded products that they'll quickly lose interest in but then return for more!" *smile back*
If anything, four years of business school made me a reluctant consumer and a cynical optimist. That's my unmarketable skill set. But of course, college is much less about the classroom curriculum and more about really learning. Why I feel deflated and lethargic right now, has probably more to do with a lack of inspiration. I remember being very moved by ideas and possibilities and people during all my school years. To make the best of life, I would like to regain my former ambition while unemployed. I'm not exactly sure how to go about doing such. If it's on sale somewhere, I obviously can't afford it.
*A pause to think.*
I think I just wasted a few paragraphs to say that I want to do more stuff...for free. I had what Oprah calls an a-ha moment, otherwise known as an epiphany, otherwise seen as something pretty obvious.
Make the most of my unemployement to-do list
1. Explore my new city: I haven't been to a museum here, and I don't even know if there are any, but I imagine there should be, and I imagine there are free-to-the-public days. Also, I love to run and hike at parks, but I haven't explored any public parks here in Orlando, mostly because I try to avoid the sun, because I feel like skin cancer every time I step outside. I'm on a no-sun kick, which I should probably get over in spirit of life, vitamin D, and getting off the treadmill, literally and figuratively.
2. Volunteer more: I volunteer once a week at the animal shelter, but I should expand my horizons. I would love to work at the library again, so a good start might be volunteering.
on that note...
3. Get a library card: I can't believe I haven't gone to the library yet! I don't even have a library card! Gosh, I'm getting excited thinking about going to the library now. I do have a minor fear of driving in Orlando, though, but I shall add that to the Get-Over-It list.
4. Maybe I should learn the bus system here? I remember getting lost all the time using the bus system in Austin, which was a good way to learn. One time I took the bus to Town Lake to run with a friend. We took the wrong bus to get back, and ended up on the other side of town, at night, with a lot of drunk, seemingly crazy people. When the driver stopped to take a fifteen minute break (Here?! Now?!) I casually asked him if the bus was going back to campus. He just laughed and said "You got on the wrong bus, didn't you? You scared?" I don't necessarily want to end up lost at close to midnight, wearing nothing but skimpy running clothes again, but that was a fun experience, learning to read the bus signs.
5. Make friends: perhaps I will with number 4. But really, I should get out and make more friends. I've met some people at church, but no one near my age and immaturity level. I made friends at the animal shelter too, but aparently I can't take them home with me.
I'll end my list here, but will continually think of ways to be a better unemployed citizen. Do share any ideas. : )
That said, I'm also pretty busy. I'm not sure if I can squeeze a job in right now. I get eight to ten hours of sleep each night (for the first time ever). I run, read, and write. I wash and fold laundry, make dinner, and I watch bad, I mean Bravo, TV. I read a wide variety of news (omg!, Perez Hilton, The Onion, Oprah.com, etc, etc), since diversity of information is important. I volunteer at the animal shelter. Each day I learn un poco mas espanol. I open and read all my mail before throwing it all away. I keep a clean apartment, paranoid that one pile of mess will lead to an apartment worthy of an episode of Hoarders. I brush my teeth at least three times a day. Sometimes I floss. I never forget to wear sunscreen (anymore). I contemplate life. I'm comfortable and relaxed and I don't wear a bra when I'm alone, which is most of the time.
My schedule is done at a leisurely pace. Which is nice and not nice all the same. I feel unaccomplished and as if my ambition is suffocating. I have friends in law school, medical school, and graduate school, as well as friends with real jobs, and my roommate-slash-fiance is a doctor. I don't have a job or even a real skill set -- not that I believe my life worth is measured by competitive comparisons -- and I can't even give blood (I've tried several times). I have a business degree, which is more useless than a liberal arts degree, in my humble and broke as hell opinion. Most of my university classes (and classmates), aside from the non-major classes, left a bad taste in my mouth. I have no desire to capture consumer surplus or to increase the bottom line or to manage a consistent brand image, and I don't want to sell high or even buy low. I can't even convincingly lie about this cacophony in an interview. It's even harder to play the part when the job is part-time and low wage. "Why do you want this job?" the interviewer asks, with a too high pitched voice and a condescending smile. Because I just LOVE working for minimum wage while ruthlessly selling store credit cards to enslave people who can't afford the heavily marked up branded products that they'll quickly lose interest in but then return for more!" *smile back*
If anything, four years of business school made me a reluctant consumer and a cynical optimist. That's my unmarketable skill set. But of course, college is much less about the classroom curriculum and more about really learning. Why I feel deflated and lethargic right now, has probably more to do with a lack of inspiration. I remember being very moved by ideas and possibilities and people during all my school years. To make the best of life, I would like to regain my former ambition while unemployed. I'm not exactly sure how to go about doing such. If it's on sale somewhere, I obviously can't afford it.
*A pause to think.*
I think I just wasted a few paragraphs to say that I want to do more stuff...for free. I had what Oprah calls an a-ha moment, otherwise known as an epiphany, otherwise seen as something pretty obvious.
Make the most of my unemployement to-do list
1. Explore my new city: I haven't been to a museum here, and I don't even know if there are any, but I imagine there should be, and I imagine there are free-to-the-public days. Also, I love to run and hike at parks, but I haven't explored any public parks here in Orlando, mostly because I try to avoid the sun, because I feel like skin cancer every time I step outside. I'm on a no-sun kick, which I should probably get over in spirit of life, vitamin D, and getting off the treadmill, literally and figuratively.
2. Volunteer more: I volunteer once a week at the animal shelter, but I should expand my horizons. I would love to work at the library again, so a good start might be volunteering.
on that note...
3. Get a library card: I can't believe I haven't gone to the library yet! I don't even have a library card! Gosh, I'm getting excited thinking about going to the library now. I do have a minor fear of driving in Orlando, though, but I shall add that to the Get-Over-It list.
4. Maybe I should learn the bus system here? I remember getting lost all the time using the bus system in Austin, which was a good way to learn. One time I took the bus to Town Lake to run with a friend. We took the wrong bus to get back, and ended up on the other side of town, at night, with a lot of drunk, seemingly crazy people. When the driver stopped to take a fifteen minute break (Here?! Now?!) I casually asked him if the bus was going back to campus. He just laughed and said "You got on the wrong bus, didn't you? You scared?" I don't necessarily want to end up lost at close to midnight, wearing nothing but skimpy running clothes again, but that was a fun experience, learning to read the bus signs.
5. Make friends: perhaps I will with number 4. But really, I should get out and make more friends. I've met some people at church, but no one near my age and immaturity level. I made friends at the animal shelter too, but aparently I can't take them home with me.
I'll end my list here, but will continually think of ways to be a better unemployed citizen. Do share any ideas. : )
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
crampy
I was in a sad funk all day. This happens, but now that I found a new exercise to cheer myself up, I feel better. After dinner, I randomly started serenading E with Justin Bieber's "baby, baby, oh baby" song (I don't know the title, only those catchy lyrics) in a chipmunk voice. After singing a pop song like a chipmunk, one really can't go back to being crabby, or "crampy" as Eugenio says. Side story: sometimes Eugenio doesn't hear me clearly, claiming that I speak "too low." He doesn't mention that he didn't understand, rather he makes up words based off of what he thinks I said. One day I told him he should cheer up and stop being crabby (I'm supportive like that), and later he gave me a hug and said, "I'm sorry I was being crampy." (he's great and funny like that). Anyhoo, I was mostly crampy today over my unemployment and because I miss mi madre and you.
I wanted to follow up with the flower shop this morning, but I'm assuming they are no longer hiring, as they took down their ad and didn't respond to my email. Bummer, dude. I hate it when I get rejected from a job before I even get a chance to interview. If I interview and then they reject me, I can say something like, "Whew! Good, I really didn't want to work for her anyway. She was so....." Now I can only blame you -- for not praying hard enough. And I really didn't want to bring you into my pity party.
While sulking, I managed to apply for a big girl job, which is one that notes a real salary. Now pray, goddamnit. Just kidding. This post concludes my writing about my job search, until I actually get a job. I don't want to joke my way through another rejection. Also, I must be complaining so much that even my friends are having nightmares for me (or should I say cozy dreams, relative to my current situation?). Elle sent me this text today:
I had a dream you would fly back to S.A. on the weekends to be a lunch lady at Lee for extra money. You seemed happy!
LOL. I think I actually would be happy if that were reality. I'd have a job where I would occasionally eat yummy chocolate chunk cookies (anyone who went to Lee, remember those?!), and I'd get to see my friends and family. Win, win, win, minus the traveling expenses.
I wanted to follow up with the flower shop this morning, but I'm assuming they are no longer hiring, as they took down their ad and didn't respond to my email. Bummer, dude. I hate it when I get rejected from a job before I even get a chance to interview. If I interview and then they reject me, I can say something like, "Whew! Good, I really didn't want to work for her anyway. She was so....." Now I can only blame you -- for not praying hard enough. And I really didn't want to bring you into my pity party.
While sulking, I managed to apply for a big girl job, which is one that notes a real salary. Now pray, goddamnit. Just kidding. This post concludes my writing about my job search, until I actually get a job. I don't want to joke my way through another rejection. Also, I must be complaining so much that even my friends are having nightmares for me (or should I say cozy dreams, relative to my current situation?). Elle sent me this text today:
I had a dream you would fly back to S.A. on the weekends to be a lunch lady at Lee for extra money. You seemed happy!
LOL. I think I actually would be happy if that were reality. I'd have a job where I would occasionally eat yummy chocolate chunk cookies (anyone who went to Lee, remember those?!), and I'd get to see my friends and family. Win, win, win, minus the traveling expenses.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Only apply if you can show up on time.
With no exaggeration, I have applied to hundreds of jobs since moving to Orlando. My logic told me that if I apply to ten to twenty jobs each week, eventually I will get a job. I'd like to think I'm a catch for any company, but so far -- in this poor economy, I'll tell myself -- I'm not. I don't even have delusions that I can land a decent paying job that will allow me to pay back my student loans.
How fucked up is this: I took out student loans so that I could go to college, so that I could get a job one day, so that I could pay back my student loans one day, but now that's not even my goal. Now I want a job, so that I can continue making low payments on my ever increasing student debt... for the rest of my goddamned life. Fuck me! Now I consider any low paying job that simply requires a pulse, as lucrative. Unfortunately, I'm both overqualified and unqualified for most hourly part-time jobs. Part-time, because it seems there's no such thing as a full-time job with benefits anymore. Overqualified, because I have a degree and work experience that paid semi-decent; and unqualified, because I've never folded clothes or swept the floor for a formal exchange of taxed money. I don't even qualify to be a maid. I'm not as bitter as I seem, though, because I know there are people who have this sort of work experience who also need work so that they can feed their families.
I'm so willing and able to work, that every ad makes me think I'm reading a description for my dream job. Why, yes, I HAVE always wanted to work as a full-time (?!) Dry Cleaning Presser! And yes, I CAN show up to work on time (one of the three job requirements)! I get all excited and sweaty as a shoot an eager-beaver email to my hopefully new employer.
Today, I did in fact apply to work at that Dry Cleaners. I was giddy about that one. Full-time, hello! And then I almost died (excuse me, I've been watching Rachel Zoe), when I saw an ad for a part time flower shop assistant. I am not even kidding you when I say that I actually HAVE always wanted to work in a florist shop. Really, I'm not just saying that with the same sweaty excitement I got when I falsely assumed working as a dry cleaning presser is my dream job. What's more, the Flower Shop, unlike the Dry Cleaners or the Grocery Store or any Retail Shop in the mall, doesn't necessarily require experience. They'll train inept souls like me who stupidly went to college. Heck yes! I applied for the flower shop assistant job, and for once I think my excitement is genuinely directed towards the work and not the idea that I'll have a job.
So, I have a favor. If you pray to God, Allah, the Light, Madonna, Kaballah, or whoever, please pray that I get this job (and tell him/her/it that I'm sorry for swearing so much), or simply send good vibes my way. I'mnot sure if that truly works, I'm fairly certain that doesn't work, or think that I am so important and disadvantaged that prayers should be spent on me, but it can't hurt. I need a job!I want to come home for Christmas! BUT if it doesn't work out, I can blame it on The Plan!
I'll keep you posted.
Gracias!
Hanna
How fucked up is this: I took out student loans so that I could go to college, so that I could get a job one day, so that I could pay back my student loans one day, but now that's not even my goal. Now I want a job, so that I can continue making low payments on my ever increasing student debt... for the rest of my goddamned life. Fuck me! Now I consider any low paying job that simply requires a pulse, as lucrative. Unfortunately, I'm both overqualified and unqualified for most hourly part-time jobs. Part-time, because it seems there's no such thing as a full-time job with benefits anymore. Overqualified, because I have a degree and work experience that paid semi-decent; and unqualified, because I've never folded clothes or swept the floor for a formal exchange of taxed money. I don't even qualify to be a maid. I'm not as bitter as I seem, though, because I know there are people who have this sort of work experience who also need work so that they can feed their families.
I'm so willing and able to work, that every ad makes me think I'm reading a description for my dream job. Why, yes, I HAVE always wanted to work as a full-time (?!) Dry Cleaning Presser! And yes, I CAN show up to work on time (one of the three job requirements)! I get all excited and sweaty as a shoot an eager-beaver email to my hopefully new employer.
Today, I did in fact apply to work at that Dry Cleaners. I was giddy about that one. Full-time, hello! And then I almost died (excuse me, I've been watching Rachel Zoe), when I saw an ad for a part time flower shop assistant. I am not even kidding you when I say that I actually HAVE always wanted to work in a florist shop. Really, I'm not just saying that with the same sweaty excitement I got when I falsely assumed working as a dry cleaning presser is my dream job. What's more, the Flower Shop, unlike the Dry Cleaners or the Grocery Store or any Retail Shop in the mall, doesn't necessarily require experience. They'll train inept souls like me who stupidly went to college. Heck yes! I applied for the flower shop assistant job, and for once I think my excitement is genuinely directed towards the work and not the idea that I'll have a job.
So, I have a favor. If you pray to God, Allah, the Light, Madonna, Kaballah, or whoever, please pray that I get this job (and tell him/her/it that I'm sorry for swearing so much), or simply send good vibes my way. I'm
I'll keep you posted.
Gracias!
Hanna
Monday, September 6, 2010
Business in the front, party in the back
To add insult to injury, I decided to get my hair cut at the place Eugenio frequents for his monthly 2 minute hair trim. I wanted a cheap hair cut, and that's what I got. I wanted wispy, side-swept bangs, and I got a mullet. My bad hair cut turned tragic when I tried to fix it myself with regular scissors. Mara cuts her bangs, and they look nice, so I figured I could try the same. One "shit! fuck!" after another, I finally decided to cut my losses (haha). We went straight to the mall for a $40 hair cut. Well, first I ate. It's interesting how once I lessen my self-standards, I can throw all caution to the wind. I have an ugly hair cut, I might as well eat a big, fat, greasy burger.
"Yup. He did a doozy on these bangs," noted my new, chic hairstylist.
She did her best to make my manly mane look less so, and then added, "Now you just have to wait for it to grow." And, if I want, I can "come back in a week to get highlights for a discounted price." Lady, I have a mullet. I don't need highlights.
I feel bad for Eugenio. I took a look at my fabulous self in the mirror this morning, and all I could do was laugh. Thick bangs don't look purdy in the morn. That's how I should talk to match my hair. If I spend a long time licking and fixing my hair, I can almost look as if I'm going for Audrey Hepburn. But only for a second. If I move or breath, I go back to Joe Six Pack from way out yonder."I'll tell yew wut. My momma makes the best grits."
At least it didn't happen on my wedding day. Have you seen this classic You Tube video? Eugenio showed it to me while I was devouring my hamburger at the mall, before my hair pseudo-fix. Watch the whole thing. *So funny* Don't let me near scissors on my wedding day.
ANYHOO, I really don't care about my hair as much as it seems. Sure, I cry a little when I look in the mirror, but I do understand that there are people in this world with much bigger problems. (I heard Lindsey Lohan had to surrender her hair extensions before entering prison.)
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
wild hare
I woke up this morning at 4:45am and couldn't go back to sleep. So I did some reading, went to the apartment gym, ran on the treadmill, then went to Walmart to buy shampoo and conditioner, since I've been out for a couple days. The opposite wall in the shampoo isle is stacked with hair dye, so I impulsively decided to dye my hair dark brown. I've never dyed my hair in my life. In my head at 7am, it sounded like a fantastic idea. It was pretty cheap too, so I figured it was a worthy purchase.(Note to self: add hair dye to list of things not to buy because-it's-cheap).
It's a fun change for now, but 
I'm not thrilled about it. Thankfully, I was sane enough to buy non-permanent dye. I think I'll buy this dye again when Halloween comes around for a Morticia Addams costume.
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