You know what’s really funny? When people feel the need to be two-faced. I can do whatever I want and so can you, but please don’t be fake about it, and don’t pretend to be my friend when you see me, and then cause unnecessary drama afterward. If you have something to say to me, say it to ME and not air it on your Facebook status. I’ve never had a problem with you, but apparently you have a problem with me. Why? Who knows, and quite frankly I don’t care. So, bye bye.
I have the worst luck with my hair. No one knows how to color it, or style it. It’s completely and ridiculously frustrating. I’ve only found 2 people on this planet that can do the above semi-correctly, and one works at an Aveda Salon in New Jersey (I miss you Lori!) and the other no longer works at a salon. BAH!
So, I went to get my highlights touched up yesterday, and I told this new woman that I went to that I don’t want my hair to be brassy or yellow/orangish AT ALL. She said okay, and I felt like I was in good hands. Well, NO I wasn’t. When she was all done, at first glance my hair looked fine, but upon closer inspection it had a tinge of yellow and yes it was BRASSY. My hair is naturally dark ash blonde, and “yellow” DOES NOT look good in it, nor does it flatter my pale complexion. Gosh darnit!
After I semi-freaked out at home (no tears thankfully), I called the salon and asked them if I could come in and have her fix it. The were already closed so they scheduled me an appointment for Tuesday at 7PM. I asume all they need to do is add some toner, but I CAN’T WAIT THAT LONG! I am taking matters into my own hands, going to Sally Beauty Supply later today, and getting this stuff, which is supposed to do exactly what I need.
I hate my hair, hmph!
I’m starting to feel old. Spontaneity makes me feel more and more uncomfortable. I’m in bed by 10pm every night, and if I’m not, I’m grouchy. Keeping my house organized and clean keeps my brain sane. I find more joy laying in bed with Ben and Eegor than anything else. Am I a bore? When did I cross this threshold? Maybe I’m just having a “meh” day.
My faith is hungry like a whale’s frozen toes,
Steal cap fingers and nobody knows
It’s raining concrete a tunnel wind blows
Stones on my column the path that I chose
Do you get the reference?
You may never truly understand his appeal, and I don’t care.
I also have a few more photos on my Flickr.
Don’t worry, my Eegor obsession will resume shortly. Muahahaha!
Oh yeah, and Ben and my trip up to New Jersey was great. It’s good to be back in VA,, but I miss my family a whole bunch! No worries, I’ll be seeing them again in 22 days. Woo!
Yesterday, I left work about 45 minutes early because I had horrible/terrible/no good/very bad cramps. Ben and my new [queen size] mattress was delivered earlier in the day, so I was looking forward to going home and relaxing on it.
Since we upgraded from a full size mattress to a queen size, we had to purchase all new bedding, and the quest to find what we were looking for was quite arduous, as I’m really particular about certain things. After plenty of looking we finally decided on this duvet set from Kohls, and these supposedly amazing Egyptian Cotton sheets from Overstock (in white). Man, I was so excited to get everything!
So, I get home yesterday evening, in hopes of quickly popping on the freshly washed Egyptian Cotton sheets and relaxing in bed all night, while trying to forget about the horrible pains in my stomach. I walk into our bedroom, unfold the sheets and start positioning the fitted sheet on our bed. “Wow, that doesn’t look right” I say to myself. As it turns out, Overstock sent us the wrong size sheets. Our beautiful new mattress looked miniature with a king size fitted sheet on it = strike 1.
At that point I was annoyed, but I wasn’t ready to kill anyone. The solution was simple — run to Target or Bed Bath and Beyond and buy some new white sheets, and return these defective ones ASAP. Ok, cool, no biggie. I was about ready to go when I heard my washing machine stop, signaling that our duvet and shams were ready to be pulled out and put into the dryer. So, I reach in, grab the duvet, take a look, and immediately realize something is very wrong. The duvet and shams, which I washed with cold water as the directions noted, had completely bled all over themselves. The once white circles were now a light poop color = strike 2.
At that point, I was thoroughly POed. All I wanted to do was go to bed, but no, I had to run to Bed Bath and Beyond to find replacement bedding. And no, I couldn’t leave well enough alone and just sleep on what we had — I’m a stickler for certain things, so this needed to be done, or else I would have dwelled on it all night long. To my surprise, I found some suitable bedding, and left with a $200 hole in my pocket. Boy, will I be happy when I get a refund on those other items. Sheeesh.
Everything looks great and I slept like a baby last night. That is my story.
I know, I’m a perfectionist. Thanks! And my tummy is feeling better today.
<serious blog post>
Sometimes, and more often now then ever before, I regret moving down to Virginia. I miss my family and friends in New Jersey so much. I guess being away from them has made me realize just how important they are to me, and how much I want them in my life on a daily basis. Ben works weekends pretty much 90% of the time, so he and I rarely spend any real quality time together, which is exceedingly frustrating since, you know, my “love language” is quality time. There are two reasons why I haven’t put my foot down and demanded that we move to New Jersey:
- I love my job too much to leave
- It’s not a wise time to sell our townhouse (evident by the current state of our economy)
Ben comes home from Las Vegas late tomorrow night/Monday morning. I’ll be sleeping, then it’s off to work I go.
Meh, I’m just having a pity party here at my house tonight. But don’t worry, my misery doesn’t need any company, I’ve got Eegor for that. I do, however, feel very accomplished today because I’m now 75% done with my Halloween costume. I just have to paint something (you’ll find out what soon enough) and buy some shoes.
</serious blog post>
Ever since I moved down to Virginia, I’ve been trying to convince my parents to move down here too. Not only is it significantly cheaper than New Jersey, but the weather is a lot more pleasant in the winter. Although, I have to admit I do miss getting hoards of snow. Plus, my Dad will be retiring in about 5 years, and they won’t need that big house anymore. Actually, they don’t even need it now.
I often wonder if any of my “convincing” will ever surmount to anything. How big is the chance that they’ll actually move down here? Should I have at least a little hope, or is it time I just smell the roses and give up? I suppose it’s somewhat selfish to ask them to move here for me, but if you knew our family dynamic you’d understand.
Ben and I want to have kids, but I desparately want both my parents to be around when we start our own family. Fortunately, that won’t be happening for another 5 years or so (hopefully), so we’ve got some time, but still, the thought crosses my mind on a daily basis. I guess I’m just scared.
I miss my family. Hmph.