My Nemesis

My hair hates me. I don't know what I ever did to it. Except the time I tried to cut it myself. Or permed it more times than I can count. And I did let my mother brush it out after keeping it in braids for 3 days in a row (which resulted in my hair frizzing out wider than my body). Whatever it was-my hair won't forgive me.

As result, when I spend hours trying to convince my hair that it wants to be cute and curly it rebels and the end result resembles a dead wombat.

But when I give up on my hair, clip it up to get it out of my face, play ultimate frisbee for an hour and have absolutely nowhere to go and no boy to impress---it decides to be cute. Not cool.In case you can't tell---the second picture is of my hair actually being cute. At least, I think it is. Maybe I'm wrong...

And also, the last picture is what
happened the first time I tried to take a
picture of my hair. I'm a dork.

Posers

I think authors must be overweight and unattractive people. I mean, they always make their protagonists handsome/beautiful, funny, smart etc. people, right? So I figure they must be writing about the version of themselves they wish they were. That's what I'd do if I wrote, anyway.

And another thing. Their characters never seem to know how awesome they are. Cuz humility is cool, right? But do you really believe that anyone is that unaware of their attributes? I don't. Believe me, if I were beautiful, charming and witty---I'd know it. And I'd probly make sure other people knew it as well. Most conversations would begin with me saying, "You have two eyes so I'm sure you're well aware that I'm beautiful, but I feel you should also know that I'm witty and charming."

Also, these people always LOVE to exercise like madmen. I don't know how many times I've read about some guy or girl who works out till the pain in their muscles nearly keeps them from functioning...and then we find out they like it?! Yeah, right. The only reason I like to work out is cuz when I'm finished I know that I have a whole other day before I put myself through that torture again.

Speaking of which, my chosen method of torture these days is Pilates which is, frankly, hard as a beast. I'm convinced it's really only meant for small children and Gumbi. Whatever. I've strayed from my point which is that I'm beautiful and charming. Wait-that wasn't it. 

Oh yeah, it's that authors are posers.

Wise-Saying Cookies

When I grow up I'm gonna invent a cookie that doesn't taste good with anything but Chinese food. And then, I'm gonna put fortunes in them that will give hope to the poor masses of society. Don't try and tell me this has already been done, because I won't believe you. You're thinking about the inappropriately named "fortune cookies" which are really wise-sayings, not fortunes. Why I have such a problem with this I don't know...but I find it incredibly irritating! 

Anyway, I was at a Chinese restaurant recently with some friends, and this particular one didn't give you just one cookie at the end of the meal. Oh no. They had a basket out of which you took your own. And if you were me you took about five. Here are some of my non-fortunes:

-Others see you as a wise person. Really? I probly ought to find these people and set them straight.

-You have a charming way with words. Yes. Me talk pretty.

-Among the lucky, you are the chosen one. . . . . Is it just me, or does that seem like it's saying I'm unlucky?

-You are guided by silent love and friendship around you. Yeah---and I'm way past ready for the silent love to start speaking up. Seriously. 

And finally, my one and only fortune which I am still unpatiently (and yes, I do mean unpatiently. I have a charming way with words and I take this to mean I can invent new ones as well) waiting to be fulfilled:

-You will inherit a large sum of money. It might be asking too much, but I would appreciate if I had some sort of time frame for this one.

There is No Charge for Pure Awesomeness

My cousin and I decided to get pedicures yesterday and such we're such high-rollers we decided to spring for the ones at the salon academy. Among other perks found at such places, you get genius cosmetology students who come out and say, "I don't know how to pronounce your name." Now, I get that I have a grandma name and all, but I was under the impression it was pretty basic as far as pronunciation goes... Whatever. 

Anyway, there was a crazy woman there who was talking about how she lived in Egypt and Cairo in her past life. She also died in Pompeii. And she's terrified of the number 5. Right. That was a conversation I could've lived all my life without over-hearing and still been happy. 

Also, in case I wasn't sure if I was short or had small feet...pedicure people are always happy to remind me. Cuz they're sweet like that. The chair that one would normally expect to adjust to height didn't. Remember, cuz my cousin and I went to the really fancy place? Nice, yes? So basically, my feet didn't even reach as far down as they were supposed to. I looked like a little child sitting on a high stool with my feet dangling. And boy did I feel cool.