I will also pay to be slapped*

For the second time in my life, I have gone to a salon, requested a hair cut, and been denied. Or more exactly, been told, "oh no, you should grow your hair long," and then paid a lot of money for someone to basically run a comb through my hair (which, let's be honest, I don't do that, so I guess there is some benefit).

I'm not sure where this falls on the spectrum between "you are so ugly you should hide that face with as much hair as possible, and add some more to it just to be safe," and "I, the stylist, whom you will pay lots of money to, am hung-over beyond belief and pissed that you booked a 9 a.m. appt. I can barely see the numbers on the clock, let alone try to figure out how to use sharp objects around your head without bodily harm. Just let me tell you you're pretty, and tip me well."

I tried to be pleasant while I was there, but when I get home and realized I paid to look the same I almost took scissors to my hair. Instead, I decided to be rational, and called the salon back up, asking, "bang trims are free, right?" Oh sure, I don't want bangs, I had wanted a bob, but you know, at least I'm getting something for my money.

*Actually happened. I had a gift card at a salon and got a "facial" that involved being hit (they referred to it as "tapped") repeatedly in the face.

Things that have made me laugh today.

The lady at Target, who didn't move away from the card swiper after she had paid, and then yelled at me when the cashier rang up my items and gave me my total. Not exactly sure what her end-game was.

The fact that Roger inhaled her breakfast this morning and then promptly barfed it all back up in the water bowl. Birdie and Luna watched in disgust.

It was the disgust on their faces that killed me.

My New Favorite Quote

"If it were true that women are turned on by a man who makes them laugh, Woody Allen wouldn’t have had to marry his own daughter."

A Girl Under the Influence

I just discovered that I'm growing an ass on top of the one I already have. I have a flat chest and a flat stomach, which is a mean trick as I don't gain weight there, but I do on my backside, and area I don't ever catch a glimpse of. If I want to see what's happening back there, I have to commit to a getting out several mirrors and performing a bit of a magic show. Which I don't often do. So I wasn't even aware of the extra ass situation until I got out last year's slacks and put them on. Or tried to put them on.

I occasionally bemoan that my clothes are getting tighter, but right now I can't actually button up some of my pants. And that makes me want to throw myself off the roof. Besides the obvious horrors of gaining weight, I am dealing with an issue of economics. I spent a lot of time and money over the years, not only buying clothes, but paying even more money to have them altered so they will perfectly fit. And now they don't.

I've evaluated the situation, and decided the cheapest solution is obviously to get rid of the second ass. I think even surgery would be cheaper than new clothing. And before I'm accused of being a bit dramatic, I should point out that I have a 35" inseam, which is 1" too long for most "long" pants, and 1" too short for most "x-long" pants, making finding perfectly fitting pants a full-time job, people.

I'm perhaps deluding myself right now, as I believe all will go back to sanity if I just lose 10 lbs. (yeah, I know, that makes me a member of the just lose 10 lbs club, ha). I have separated my clothing into several piles. A pile of clothing that doesn't fit that I am willing to part with (it's very small), a pile of clothing that I can currently wear (also small), and a pile of clothing that I believe I can fit in to if I lose some weight (that pile is not so small, rather a lot like my ass).

As I was going through all the clothes yesterday and trying not to become suicidal a friend texted me a question, to which I replied, "That is the least of my problems. I'm looking at myself in the mirror trying to figure out how to stand in my pants so I don't have a camel toe."

Yeah....I think I might go ahead and put those pants in the give-away pile.

Injured

I fell off an elliptical machine today. You know, the machine in the gym where the platform moves so your feet don't have to? And there are poles on the sides for your arms to hold on to.

I'm icing my ankle to keep down the swelling.

That is all.

Things are good, things are bad. In short, it's all the same.

Since Sunday I've had a visitor of the 4-footed variety. I'm not too bothered by it, but Luna and Birdie are in near hysterics. That low rumbling you felt in the earth? Just attribute it to the constant spitting and growling that's happening my apartment.

The little kitty was found on the Monon Trail, screaming in a tree. She was rescued by a passing biker, and promptly placed in my arms, I guess because I had been standing there talking to her. (Yes, that's right, talking to her. I'm sure the cat was screaming in her own language, "Woman, what the f**k? Get me out of the tree and then we can have a conversation.")

The amazing thing was not only did the cat not scratch the guy who pulled her down, she immediately curled up as I held her and started purring. I was with a friend (of the male variety, and I cannot believe he is still willing to take me out for dinners after seeing me converse with a screaming tree cat) who drove us home, and the cat sat very comfortably in my lap.

I tried, for about 3 hours, to leave the cat in my car while I figured out what to do. It being Sunday didn't leave many options, so eventually she gained admittance. She walked bossily through my apartment, and didn't seem fazed by the commotion she caused.

I've worked it out where she stays in the bedroom, and Birdie and Luna get the living room. Not that it matters, because Birdie has been firmly in place on top of the fridge since Sunday, while Luna has taken up residence behind my potted tree.

I'll give Roger (current name of kitty given before the sex was verified by a vet) credit - not only is she unfazed but their hate, she seems to be breaking them down. She's started with Birdie - probably the easier mark of the two. She's been stalking Bird all through the house - when Birdie is brave enough to venture down from the fridge. She'll slink slowly behind B, who will turn around, see Roger, and then hiss. Then B will walk on and Roger will continue the hunt.

This morning I saw Roger lying on the ground several safe feet away from Luna, but I am a little worried the Chipmunk Murder may strike when I'm not looking.

I've posted ads on Craigslist and in the local paper, as well as put fliers up in the neighborhood she was found. I've only received one response from someone who isn't her owner, but who is interested. Which already has me a bit paranoid. I don't want Roger living with just anyone. You know, I'm concerned about the welfare of this cat. That's all.

Which is why, this afternoon, when I came home and realized the bedroom door was open, I had a freakin heart attack. I raced back there, and ran smack into Birdie and Roger sniffing tails. Until they saw me. Then Bird put on a little growl show for my benefit. I couldn't believe that Roger was still alive given that she and Luna could have crossed paths while I wasn't around.

But Miss L was stretched out on the bed, looking delighted to be there instead of behind the tree. Five minutes later, Roger was on the corner of the bed, patiently lying down and staring at Luna, who let out a warning growl and went back to grooming. Five more minutes and both cats were busy working on their respective backsides, with no mind given to the other.

So who knows. They may not kill eat other, but I can't have 3 cats in an apartment (in theory). The thought of giving her away to a stranger isn't nice, so I think I'm going to start looking for a friend in need of a little furry friend.

And in case you're wondering, the little shit looks like a miniature version of Birdie.

Things that make you go.....blog?

My three faithful readers have gotten hostile, and since I am concerned for my safety, I will blog to shut you up. I do appreciate the demands, though.

I'm still in a depressed panic about not having a job. Unemployment is getting ready to run out, and I feel completely worthless. Because of my sitiuation, I've been slightly obsessed with the idea of "going off the grid;" people who do not work and choose a simplier life. Of course this is all fun and good to read about, until the fall fashion magazines start arriving in my mailbox.

Which, by the way, is driving me INSANE, because fall is the favorite fashion season of any red-blooded woman out there. Not only do I not have money to splurge on lovely new clothes, I have nowhere to wear them, which is killing me. KILLING ME. I've started dressing up just to put gas in my car.

It's always that way. When I had a job that required me to wear a suit, I looked like shit the rest of the time, and refused to even dress up for parties. And when I had a job where I could work from home, I started dressing up to go to McDonald's.

I have bigger issues than that at the moment, such as whether or not I can get a job in time to renew the lease on my apartment. After a big depression about 3 years ago that resulted in my moving in with roommates for a year, I've found a nice balance once again of having friends and living by myself. I've learned I'm happiest when it's just me and the cats, but I also learned that living with roommates is a hell of a lot cheaper, although it does give my cats a few nervous tics.

EDIT: Here's one of the blogs I'm reading of a man living "off the grid." I believe he uses public libraries to do his blog postings. Whether you agree with him or think he's insane, you can't deny he definitely can make you think. Ok, so he makes me think.

http://zerocurrency.blogspot.com/