If you're reading this, then you may already know: I've deactivated the Facebooks. I'm embarrassed to even say this, but I was actually a little sad (I got misty eyed — blurgh), although that was quickly replaced by immense relief. FREE! I'm hiding in plain sight. I'm Harry Potter with my totally magical Internet invisibility cloak. But I'm right here. Brian told me about this family that's living in 1986, and maybe I'm a little jealous. I long to live like it's 1986. I loved the 80s. I guess I'm just trying to get back to this.
Those are my aunt's cats, Korbel and Kir. Orange cats named after champagne drinks. We're MFEO, obvs.
Everyone I've told that I'm on a Facebook break, everyone, has said, "Oh, I need one too!" So do it, friends. Honestly, a big part of why I took a break is because I feel like we're all too reliant upon it as a means of communication. We don't know friends' addresses or phone numbers or even birthdays, and Facebook knows it. That, and Facebook has a unique ability to make me feel bad about not accomplishing more in life.
So if you're thinking about it, know that you can download all of your data (including photos you've uploaded) before you deactivate. And that's not deleting; you can go back to your cryogenically frozen timeline and wake it up. I'm not sure how long I'm going to stay away, but I do feel a bit happier. And you might, too. Just a thought.
It's the second Christmas miracle this year. Yes, both of my children are asleep at the same time. I was going to tweet about it or something, but then I thought that I'd jinx it, so instead, I ran to the kitchen and poured a glass of wine and came over to say, "Hi."
Here's what's on my mind: Why does my neighbor let his dogs poop in our yard?
The front yard, or the "crime scene," if you will.
Seriously. I mean, he's got to know that I know that those giant poops in the grass are not from my Chihuahua. He knows this, right? And when I "catch" him letting his dogs poop in the yard (aka I pull in the driveway as his dogs are pooping in the yard), he always cleans it up. But then I find big poops. It's a conundrum. Does he think if we don't see it happen then it didn't happen? There needs to be witness to his dogs' defecation? Maybe he's playing mind games. Should I put the poop back in yard? Just over the property line? I'm not really sure where the property line is exactly, but I could make an educated guess. Would he know that I put the poop back in his yard, or would he think, "Why did I let the dog poop where it's supposed to?" I cannot make sense of the situation. What do you think?
Okay, well, I'm going to soak up the silence for a while. Hope you're having a baller Tuesday.
If you missed my last post, you can read about my hair drama here. Need a refresher? Here's the before photo.
You've heard of killer blonde? I like to call this color "serial killer blonde." I look just like Javier Bardem in Skyfall.
Here's the fix. I re-dyed it with box dye from the Walmarts and lightened my eyebrows with H2O2.
I'd look happier if Leo hadn't just dumped an entire bottle of bubbles on me.
It's better. I don't love it, but I don't hate it. The Interwebs said to expect only a color you could tolerate, so I suppose it's a win. I'm wondering just how long I can go without dying it dark. Any bets?
photo credits: Scarlett
How long can I go without dying my hair dark? The over-under is 4 weeks. And go …
Remember how excited I was to finally go platinum blonde after 15 years of waiting? Everyone always says, "Don't do it at home; you'll turn it orange!" Well, friends, I can say that I did one better: I went to a salon and paid someone to dye it orange for me.
This is the color I wanted. (And yes, I took this picture with me.)
Sigh … it's so pretty, right?
This is the color I got. (I didn't even put a fancy filter on this to make it look better.)
I managed this color once myself at summer stock. It was 10x less expensive. I'm trying to look happy for Scarlett. It's not working. Obviously.
And it's been a long time since I cried after a visit to the salon, but today, I cried the big, ugly cry. I waited until I got to the car, and I'm pretty sure I scared Brian with my crying face, so I'm sorry for that. The stylist said the change would be shocking. It certainly was.
I'm still not sure what I'm going to do. I know you're all going to tell me to go back to the salon and have them fix it, but it's kind of the last thing I want to do, and it was the owner of the salon who did this, so yeah … I ordered some Garnier White Chocolate box color on Amazon. All the reviewers seemed to have had the same problem I did, so when that gets here in 2 days, I'll let you know how it goes. Until then, I'll be waiting for my scalp to heal.
"The true spirit of conversation consists more in bringing out the cleverness of others than in showing a great deal of it yourself; he who goes away pleased with himself and his own wit is also greatly pleased with you."
—Jean de La Brùyere (via swissmiss)
For some reason, this reminds me of H.A.L. (Not the computer from 2001: A Space Odyssey — DCT peeps know what I'm talking about.) Not so much the burning or the oil, but that one time when we didn't have any heat because someone forgot to order the heating oil, and then we had to stand around the oven, which was wide open at 500 °F. Good times, good memories. No, it smells like burning oil because I completely botched the seasoning of a cast iron skillet by putting too much oil on it thus turning it into tar, so the YouTubes told me to put the pan in the oven on self-cleaning mode so that all the tar would burn up. It's smelly. Here's to hoping that it works. Then I get to start all over, and pray for me that I don't mess it up a second time.
Also, PMS is turning me into a total freak. I was on the phone yesterday with someone I've met, oh, twice in real life, and all of a sudden I was telling her all about how PMS is turning me into a total freak. Oops. I tried to apologize, but literally, I could not stop myself from talking. I mean, I was already predisposed to being a bit too candid, but the hormones have finally put me over the edge. I hope you'll all still love me tomorrow.
Here are a few snapshots from this week. Hope you have a great weekend, lovies. See on you the blonde side.
To say that Scarlett loves lollipops would be an understatement.
Photo by Scarlett.
Will you look at that chunky little monkey face?