Christ on a cracker, I am bored. I used to go on the Diary-X forums when I got this bored, but I think we all know that’s not an option. It’s times like this I miss being in high school only for the simple fact that I always had friends within two miles to chat with, or hang out with, or what have you.
I’d hang out with my husband, but he’s out in the garage playing with HIS friends. Is that fair? I ask you. It’s like he’s mocking me.
Here’s a word that Vicki re-introduced to my lexicon: scrody. Use it today!
I got my hair cut today, FINALLY. I’d only been putting it off for six months or so. I don’t know why I do that. I like my stylist. I like the way my hair is when it’s not all damaged and busted down. But I procrastinate.
Anyway, I managed to convince myself that the whole “one length forever and ever amen” thing needed to be changed up a bit. Those of you who know me, know that when my hair is long, that’s about all you can say about it. It’s long and straight. And it’s heavy. And thick. Um, never mind. The point is – I have a lot of hair. Witness my “before” picture, taken this morning:
I’m not smiling, I’m gritting my teeth at the whole damaged, heavy mess.
When I got to the salon, and told my wonderful stylist that I wanted layers, she just about jumped for joy. The girl has been itching to layer and razor and do all kinds of stuff to my hair for years now. It was like a present she had stopped expecting to get. When it was all over, I was very happy with the results, even if she had styled it more than I probably ever would again. I’m not too handy with all of the magic wands that make your hair pretty. I can wield a curling iron, but there’s no guarantee that there will be any curl in my hair when I’m done (see: heavy and thick). Anyway, here’s what I look like as of ten minutes ago:
It shines, my precious, yes it does.
I got a new cell phone yesterday. I’d been with Sprint for like, four years, but this weekend was the final straw. I had service for about 30 total minutes the whole weekend. Sprint really only works inside cities, so when I was in Grand Rapids, it was all good. Four miles out of Grand Rapids was not so good. Pathetic.
So, I switched to Alltel, and I finally got a phone upgrade. I didn’t get one with a camera or any other foo-foo crap, because I have things CALLED camera, mp3 player, computer, etc. I don’t need crappier versions of those things on my phone. I just need cell service.
Anyway, my new phone is red. That is the only reason it met with The Man’s approval. Otherwise, he mocks me because my phone is “too fat”. I don’t care. I have service at my house, which is more than Sprint ever did for me.
My phone is red and it plays Frogger.
All the Yankee Candles and air freshener in the world cannot compete with a Really Big Dump taken by a cat. Nasty.
We scraped and painted two porches, two doors, and four windows today. I’m very tired. On the plus side, Sister’s home exteriors look much better now. On the minus side, my home exteriors look the same – in need of scraping and painting. *groan*
Highlights of the day:
- The spontaneous game of Chase between Mom, Sister, Me, and Sister’s Dog. Poor dog. Three crazed women chasing him around yelling “I’m going to get you! I’m going to get you!”
- Everyone randomly exclaiming “Shmeng!” I started saying “shmeng” to describe any kind of dirt/crud, but today it was used as noun, verb, adjective, and expletive. Someone might be painting and suddenly say “Oh, SHMENG!” for no particular reason.
- My mom singing “You Make Lovin’ Fun” in an operatic manner. “Sweeeeet!” “Yoooooou!”
- When my mom and brother-in-law had their backs turned, Sister and I busted into full-on dance and lip sync to “I Will Survive”. We carried in on for a good, solid minute and they never noticed.
- My mom quietly criticizing Jimmy Buffet (or I guess the person narrating the song) to herself while “Margaritaville” was playing: ‘Some people claim that there’s a woman to blame, but I know I’m just a loser. That’s right, buddy. You’re a huge loser with serious freaking problems. An alcoholic loser. Can’t even find your salt. Come on.’