Monday, September 17, 2007

Sometimes life just gets in the way

I hope the plethora of posts you were pummeled with was enough to hold you over for a while. It would appear that life got in the way of the freakishly up-to-date posting habit I had going on for a while. So, here I am to make you abreast of any noteworthy situations.

I am now a brunette. Tis true. I decided I was in need of a change from the light brown with blonde highlights I was sporting. In an attempt to pinch pennies I somehow got it in my head that color was something I could now do myself. After work one day I went to the grocery store, went to the appropriate aisle, and just stared at all the options before me. Now, other than feeling like switching things up entirely by going dark, I only had 3 real pressing bits of criteria. 1. I do NOT want my hair to be any shade of orange, 2. I do not want my hair to fall out, and 3. I do not want my scalp to burn like the fires of hell. I think it helps when venturing into this sort of thing not to have especially high hopes so, high hopes I had none. Here's where I got REAL brave. I got permanent color. Seriously!

I've only colored my hair at home once before and my sister did it. That's how I know that I'd rather my hair not be any shade of orange. Once I got it all done, rinsed, conditioned and wrapped up in a towel I kinda postponed actually looking at it. Not so much out of fear, but more so just the plain excitement of looking different for a change. I've looked the same way, with the exception of hair length, for so long that this was very cool to me and I wanted it to last.

I eventually stepped back into the bathroom and took the towel off my head. I looked in the mirror and I'm pretty sure my jaw hit the floor. It's like I'm a completely different person. My hair is always dark when it's wet so I quickly broke out the hair drier. It barely phased it. I now have dark hair and when the light shines on it there's even a hint of red. I dig it. I also cut it (not myself, I’m not a crazy person). It was to the middle of my back and is now resting nicely on my shoulders. It’s flippy and layered and I have a hint of bangs now. We’ll try it out for a while, but I might be growing it back out.

I got a tattoo. I know. That's about the speed at which I ripped that bandaide off for my mom, too. It's less painful that way. I don't know your opinion on tattoos, but I love them and this was my first. It was my reward for losing 25 pounds. My parents are anti-tat, but my sister forced them to warm up to the idea when she started getting them years ago. She first got a little daisy on her ankle. When I asked mom what she thought of it she sternly said, "Tattoos are for sailors and whores." I said, "Well, mom, she's not a sailor."

When choosing my first tattoo I opted to get something that would pay tribute to my Dutch heritage as well as my grandpa that passed away all the while lessening any whorish labels from my mother. I got (down by my ankle on the outside of my leg) a wooden shoe, tulip, and the word "pake" (which means grandpa in Friese). When I reach the 50 pound mark I will be adding another tulip and a windmill. When I told mom about it she actually laughed and when she told dad he laughed, too. I think I managed to elude whore status.

I have a roommate. This is far more painful than the tattoo, I assure you. Oh, how to describe him. Imagine if you will the perfect roommate. Clean, responsible, considerate, quiet, mature. Someone you can actually be friends with and hang out with. Someone you thank God for every day. Now picture that roommate's complete polar opposite and you have my roommate. At this point, all I'm really thanking God for is that he hasn't yet killed me in my sleep.

He has even caused me to consider never getting married because I fear that his slobbish and inconsiderate nature isn't a random occurance, but more so a specific gene typically present in the male species. I can't live with a slob. I've only lived with this tool for a month and it is no longer a question of IF I'll ask him to get out, but WHEN. Every time I think I can hang on for a couple more months he does something else (like slamming Lola's head in the door last night) that makes me want to kick him in the nuts and shove him out the door screaming "Once I fumigate and have disease control give the all clear, I'll send you your things."

The thought of getting a DIFFERENT roommate has crossed my mind as this is all to try and get a house, but I don't think I can cope. I don't think Lola can cope. As a first step to cutting back on my spending I cut off my home phone (I'll just use my cell) and dropped my cable down to the bare minimum. Now, that in and of itself doesn't sound so bad, but dropping my cable down meant I had to give my DVR back. Any of you that have DVR or Tivo or the like know how that pained me. I almost offered to give my first born or my left tata in it's stead. I've come to rely on my DVR far too much. Every time Lola needs out (which averages about every 20 minutes in the summer) I just hit pause and come back to my show gaining the ability to fast forward through the commercials. Two shows on at the same time? No problem. I could watch one while the other recorded. Oh the agony of it all. Don't ANYONE call when my shows are on. I can no longer pause live tv. WAHHHHHHH!

So there you have it. The latest on multiple fronts. Nothing too exciting. I'm just a tattoo'd brunette whore with a roommate I can't kill cuz it might interfere with my shows. Over and out.

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