Wholly Unprepared

I should be packing right now.

Or at the very least, I should be sleeping.

Instead I'm watching TV.  NBA basketball followed by Grey's Anatomy, the Mentalist, and Private Practice.

Luckily (or unluckily) for me, this will only be a day and a half trip.  1/3 of which will be spent driving.

Okay, maybe not so lucky.

The good news about it only being a short, oh so short, trip is that I don't need to pack much.  A pair of underwear and a toothbrush.

And shoes.  Because I'm pretty sure I wore the same shoes to work four days in a row.  And that ain't right.

They were Chuck Taylors though.  Try not to be jealous of the fact that I am supposed to dress like a college student so I can blend in at my job.

My life is rough.  I know.

Also, I will be having my second straight 3-day weekend in a row.

Excuse me while I continue to complain about how rough my life is.

No, really, I'm serious.

Seriously though, I'm going to bed.  As I should have, about 10 lines ago.

P.S.  The word "wholly," as seen in my title, is a ridiculous word.  It just doesn't look right.  All I can think when I read it is woolly (which also looks funny).  The English language makes no sense.


I can't handle the pressure. I really can't.

My blogging of late has turned rather apathetic.

I'm not sure what happened.  My brain chemistry changed.  There are too many moons in the house of Saturn.  (I really have no idea what I'm talking about.  Obviously.)  I have lost all will to put together complete English sentences, so I text and very occasionally Twitter.

Speaking of Twitter, as a slightly Type-A personality, the character limit really stresses me out.

Come to think of it, so does the limit on text messages.

But on Twitter, I've had to retrain myself not to put two spaces at the end of every sentence.  Because I don't know about you, but that's the right way to type.

Two spaces people.

Not only does Twitter have a character limit, but the numbers change colors when you get too close to your limit.

I KNOW!  Alright, Twitter.  Get off my back already.

I can't handle the pressure.  Or the performance anxiety that comes with it.

The hardest part for me is that I can't stand to abbreviate.  Or, heaven forbid, use numbers in the place of words.  Or, equally repulsive is the idea of eliminating spaces between words.

I just got rid of the space before my sentences.  Do not ask me to put words together.

See, I'm a rule person.  So the idea of purposefully breaking a rule, even in grammar, causes me to break out in hives.

It's not pretty.

So if you're wondering why I don't tweet much or why my text messages are always complete sentences, and include punctuation (unless I'm driving--safety first people.), that's why.

It's a compulsion that I just can't help.


Greaser Style

Sometimes I don't wash my hair.

Now before you get all grossed out and worried about infestations I may be carrying around with me, listen up.

When I say I don't wash my hair, I mean that I don't shampoo it every day.  I read somewhere you're not supposed to.

Instead I rinse it well with water and then condition the ends.

This saves me A LOT of time in the shower and a good amount of shampoo.  My hair is thick and started to get longer.

Rest assured, however, that I'm not actually complaining about my hair.

I also read somewhere that only 60% of women are happy with their hair.  And you can count me in that 60% almost everyday.

But c'mon, everyone has bad hair days.  Especially when they go to be with wet hair.  That never turns out well.

So anyways, back to the rinsing not shampooing.  Last night, I jumped in the shower and did the whole rinse thing.

Unfortunately, this morning the front of my hair resembled that of a greaser.  I didn't really consider the fact that I went running yesterday, outside in the 70+ degree weather.

Did I mention the weather was amazing?

Apparently I sweat.  I mean glisten.

So this morning I showered again.  Luckily, it turned into a good hair day.


Say It Ain't So

I go to Yahoo! everyday for my "news" and this morning I got a little worried when I saw the headline of "Nicholas Cage takes on Batman."

Somewhere in the past, I wrote a post about Cage being one of the worst actors of all time.

And suddenly, with that headline, I had visions of a very horrible Batman series, starring Cage.

Just when they had done so well with Christian Bale (tantrums and all).  But then, I've had a crush on Bale since Newsies.  

And with the fascination with Glee (which I was so ahead of), musicals are very in right now.

Newsies was one of the movies of my childhood.  I loved watching it, singing the songs, and coveted the soundtrack.

I even bought it for my sister a few years ago.  She is a fellow aficionado.

Have I mentioned how cool I am lately?

Oh, Nicholas Cage isn't playing the part of Batman.  Just in case you were worried.  Like me.


Death by Muffin

The dog is not happy with me.  I am eating a muffin and not sharing it with her.

If forced, she would settle for the muffin liner.  Because nothing says delicious more than a waxy paper with the slight taste of poppyseed muffin.

Speaking of these muffins, they are the large jumbo size Costco muffins, which probably be the cause of my not being able to fit in my bridesmaid dress.

(Just kidding, Laura.  I'm going to look awesome.)

Do you know the muffins I'm talking about?

They probably each have a stick of butter in them.  I tend to stick with the almond poppyseed option.

This is lucky, since my brother recently informed me that the lemon blueberry muffins have over 1,000 calories.

There are some things that I'd rather not know.

I keep trying to eat the muffins so they'll disappear (not because they are delicious or anything), but every time I finally finish, more appear in their place.

Honestly though, if they didn't keep appearing, I would probably be sad.

It's kind of a win-lose situation.

Now excuse me, the dog is barking and whining for her muffin.  I better eat up quick.


The Blow Dryer

I decided to straighten my hair this morning, because a) I didn't have to be at work until noon and b) because I wasn't mowing in the afternoon so I could wear it straight again tomorrow.

Unfortunately, I'm not particularly good at straightening my hair.

I think it's mostly because I don't have the patience.  It takes a long time to get my hair blow dried.

Actually, it takes a long time for my hair to dry.  Period.

Plus, when straightening it, finishing blow drying does not mean the process is done.  Because even blow dried my hair is not especially straight or smooth.

Although, again, that's an issue of patience.  And being cheap.  If I had a nice blow dryer + alligator attachment (I know, I'm way behind the times), my hair would probably dry a lot faster.  And nicer.

But I only straighten my hair once in a blue moon, so it's not really worth spending the money.

Today, it was worse than just losing patience and ending up with poofy, frizzy hair.

Today, I managed to singe my hair with my hair dryer.

After I got out of the shower, I put in leave-in conditioner to try to tame some of my frizz.

But apparently the combination of the conditioner and my super hot blow dryer was a bad one.

The next thing I knew, I had a white, ashy, circular shape mark in my hair.  Pieces of hair were singed together and clumps started falling out.

It wasn't pretty and I can only imagine how much beautiful that spot will look as my hair grows out.

I don't think I'll be straightening my hair anytime soon.  I can tell you that much.

Update: There is actually no way to part my hair so the singed section doesn't show.  This is awesome.  Truly.


Oopsie Daisy

Last night I was all set to go to bed.  I had watched the basketball game (so close Butler!), eaten dinner (chicken patty and guacamole, yum), and had a little time to veg out.

I was literally crawling into bed when I remembered I had still had edited to do for work.  At 10:30.  Ugh.

Wow, I am an old woman.

Editing is the after hours portion of my job.  Well, not really after hours, I'm supposed to try to get it done by 5pm.

But since I am in classes working until 3:30 or 4pm everyday, and then go out and mow lawns (my life is glamorous), I don't usually get to it until the evening.

And then other important things happen (i.e. college basketball) causing me to forget all about work.


Literally speaking, however, I have 24 hours to get edited transcripts in, so midnight shouldn't be too big a deal.

I mean, I won't be fired.

I will, however, be exhausted.  A girl old woman needs her sleep, yo.