Maybe A Touch Warmer
Posted: February 9, 2012 Filed under: Boring stuff you don't care about, Sometimes it's all about me 21 Comments »
Oh so happy. I’M HAPPY. On the inside. On the outside, I’m more “meh.” Anyway, here’s my Before shot. Of course, this day (Tuesday) I was having a pretty good hair day. I remember I doubled the professional-grade conditioner I normally use, then there was a recipe of mousse, smoothing oil, hairspray and constant fiddling with it. Also, glasses are stupid when they’re all reflect-y when I’m trying to take a picture. Get with the program.
Before Shot TO THE EXTREME. This is my Rudolph robe. JELUS? T-minus however long it took me to mix all the solutions until we have Hair Makeover 2012.
During Shot. OMFG WHO THE HELL LET ME PUT CHEMICALS ON MY HEAD, UNSUPERVISED?!?
The carnage. No, no one died a bloody, Dexter death, it’s the provided gloves, post usage. And you’ll also notice that there are two (2) bottles of solution. That’s because the length, thickness, and dryness of my hair demands two boxes. Probably could have used three, too, but that’s just crazypants.
(note: this is a terribly lit picture. I’ll get a better one tomorrow in the day light and replace it.)
“It looks the same.” – Anonymous Husband
“It looks the same.” – Avery
“It looks pretty! But it looks the same.” – Eirinn
“I really don’t see a difference.” – Anonymous Father-In-Law
“I guess it’s a touch warmer.” – Anonymous Mother-In-Law
…whatever. I like it. Obviously (?) I went for Brown-y Red. However, I bought Dark Golden Brown, which is just a straight-up brown, but I know my hair and my hair looks at the colour on the box and says “Oooo! Pretty! Let’s go with that, except less that colour and more ORANGE! YAY ORANGE!!!” except that one time when I over compensated and bought an ash blonde (this was back in high school when I was bottle-blonde) and I had a full head of gray hair. Not gray-ish hair. Gray. I have no pictures to prove it because that was the day I smashed every camera in the house and then dyed my hair for a second time in one day. My hair didn’t fall out, but I learned my lesson. ORANGE is better than gray.
So it looks the same, except maybe a touch warmer. I can live with it. I can see a big difference but maybe that’s because I have to live with it. Thanks for all your help in deciding whether to make a change and what direction to go. You’re the best. Yes, you. And you. NOT YOU. But you, in the back. You, too.
Help Me Help You Help Me
Posted: February 7, 2012 Filed under: Boring stuff you don't care about, Sometimes it's all about me | Tags: hair 25 Comments »I don’t like being mean. I’m Canadian and it’s just not in our nature to be outwardly cruel to anyone ::nose-snort::, but sometimes I just can’t seem to help it. I’m not -ist against any group of people ever invented anywhere, but lately I’ve found myself hating some of them. I’m not proud, but I can’t help it either, so whatever, right? And these people really, really deserve it, too, so it’s not totally my fault. It’s all these stupid people and their stupid hair, AMIRITE? And by ‘stupid’ hair, I mean good hair. I hate those people so hard.
This is me, at Christmas:
Like this, only mousier and fuzzier and stuff. If you’re thinking “But, Jen. Your hair IS mousy and fuzzy in this picture,” you would be WRONG because this is NO WHERE NEAR as mousy and fuzzy as normal, and also shut up. I probably have 10 million pounds of goop attempting to tame it. My hair is rebellious and it’s a problem.
My hair’s not terrible, but seriously, what the hell is that? It’s not curly, it’s definitely not straight, it’s not even really wavy. It’s just sort of not…good. It’s not brown, it’s not blonde, it’s not red. It’s all of those things, and also none of them, which makes it STUPID AND I HATE IT. For real this time, not like those jerks with the good hair.
So I should probably just do something about it and dye this crap, except my hair is ::whispery voice:: a virgin. I have no dye in it right now, which means I don’t have to worry about roots. Have you ever had to worry about roots? Me neither. And I DON’T WANNA. And yet? My hair looks like doody.
Let’s explore my options:
Dark Brown
Pretty sure she’s naked here. Her skin looks stupid and fake. And I hate her stupid hair. Look at it being all well-behaved and un-fuzzy. Stupid hair. ::flips the finger::
Dark Reddish
Dallas Bryce Howard, you started this mess, and you and your bitch hair can just quit it. Also, nice name. Is that where your parents did it 9 months before you were born? ::full moon::
Light Reddish
Emma’s dumb hair is dumb. Nice ring, Stone. Was the dumb store out of “I’m an idiot” placards, you had to settle for that thing? Between that and your hair, I can barely stand looking at you. ::chin flip::
Dark Blonde
I will smack that idiot hair right off your idiot face, Hilary. Don’t think I won’t. ::threatening fist::
Light Blonde
Reese, I hope your kids shave your head with your husband’s pube razor in the middle of the night. Quit being so pretty. I hate you. ::throat-slice-mime::
Probably not blonde because I am SO not a blonde sort of person. Not right now, at least. So, go:
Since the internet, I’ve become incapable of making important decisions without consulting all you people, even though I have no idea what most of you look like. Nevertheless, you are my sunshines. I don’t want to decide. You do it.
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IMPORTANT! I failed MISERABLY to mention that I have, in fact, dyed my hair before. I used to do it all the time, but back when my hair was short. When I grew tired of a colour, I’d just cut it off or dye it back to my natural shade. I’ve been blonde before, but not since high school, I’ve been bright red, dark red, dark brown. Pretty much every colour, really. But THIS hair on my head right now? This hair has never been touched by a chemical. Right down to my tips, and it has taken more than three years to grow it all out, meaning if I dye it a colour I hate, I do NOT want to have to cut it off. I like the length (it’s longer than half way down my back; below my bra strap).
Carry on.
Boo
Posted: January 31, 2012 Filed under: Boring stuff you don't care about 13 Comments »- My dad always used to say of ugly people “They look like their face caught on fire and someone put it out with a rake.” Now, no offence, ugly people, but that right there’s comedic gold. Picture it. The person’s face is on fire, right, and someone, just trying to be nice, puts it out with the business end of a rake. If you’re not laughing, at least an internal chuckle, you’re probably dead inside. Anyway, this is how I feel this morning, except less ugly and more face-full-of-sick. I’m pretty sure it’s not face shingles, but it’s something unhealthy-like. So maybe my face-fire is being snuffed with a shovel. But still. The theory behind the metaphor stands.
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- I’m wearing jeggings. Can we still be friends? SHUT UP, THEY’RE COMFORTABLE.
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- Eirinn fell down this morning. You know those moments when, if you had been recording, you’re sure you’d be hob-nobbing with Tom Bergeron, on your way to being $10,000 richer? But then you also know those moments when you laugh, really hard, then immediately regret it because maybe it’s not so funny afterall, but it’s too late and you can’t stop? IT’S NOT MY FAULT. She had her arms stuck in her coat and she was spinning around like a dog chasing her tail and her legs skyted out and she landed on her chin and she didn’t even attempt to put her arms out to stop her. IT WAS HILARIOUS, except it also really hurt. I would’t have laughed at all if she had indicated it hurt right from the start, but she just lay there for a minute, flopping around like a fish on land, AND I WAS POWERLESS. But then she started to cry, mostly from the bruised ego, and I felt terrible for laughing, but it was way, way too late. Poor kid. Stuck with an insensitive jerk for a mother who is a sucker for a good prat fall.
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- I didn’t sleep last night. Not even once. I don’t drink coffee, either. I think if I get those glasses with the awake eyes painted on them, I could nap right here in this chair. Boy am I glad I wore my jeggings. They’re almost like jammies.
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- Usually when I write a post like yesterday, it motivates me to write. All I need is a push to get the juices flowing (gross…) and even if that push is me whining about not writing, then that’s good enough. I just have to remember that not every post needs to change lives, not every post needs to be thought provoking or award-winning. Sometimes, if the mood strikes, I can just ramble about people stuff. Sometimes I can post an earworm or an LOLcat or an embarrassing picture of myself (not today, folks). Sometimes I can step back and remember that this place is my house. I invite people to visit, offer them a cup of tea and a brownie cupcake with whipped cream frosting, but how I choose to decorate the place is up to me and what the topic of conversation is my decision. And sometimes I just want to talk about nothing special and nothing important.
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- Boo.
Pretty Quiet Indeed
Posted: January 30, 2012 Filed under: Blogcetera, Boring stuff you don't care about 16 Comments »I don’t know where I am anymore. I’m here, in this chair, wondering, but where am I really? In terms of the Internet, I don’t know. I’ve gotten to the point where I’m wondering why anyone would care about what I have to say. Who am I and why would anyone listen (or read, as the case may be)? I’ve lost my grip on Twitter. I was once an enthusiastic and prolific tweeter; I could wittle any thought down to 140 or less with skill and precision. Now, I’m lucky if I remember Twitter exists. I’ve never understood Facebook, but what I grasp now is that it’s the forum through which we Windows phone users can play Words With Friends. I throw up a status update once in a while, just to see how it feels. I long ago abandoned Google+ because I didn’t get it when it first came out and I’m much too old and crotchety to bother. Do people still do Google+?
I haven’t written for MamaPop in about a month and a half. I miss the people. With Eirinn and Avery in skating and gymnastics and my 9-5 being about 694 times busier than usual, I’m thankful for having one less responsibility, but I do miss the people. I also miss having that as a part of my on-line identity. I noticed on Friday that I still hadn’t removed the MamaPop link from my email signature. It had been a part of me for so long, it hadn’t even occurred to me to delete it.
Even this blog (g’head and roll your eyes at yet another Pondering The State Of My Blog post; it seems there’s a new one everyday somewhere on the Internet). I’ve been here and also not. I’m at that point where every blogger gets stuck, usually at this time of year or during the busy summer months, where everything seems too boring or insignificant or self-indulgent to bother those of you with who have stuck around. I’ve been considering doing a post about How To Transform Your Closet, but then I think I’m being pretentious and presumptuous and so I don’t. I haven’t mentioned how my kids seem to be skating phenoms and gymnastics prodigies because blah. I know my kids are rock stars, but do you need to know? Do you want to know? Instead of finding out, I just scrap the whole idea. It’s like that with a lot of things. I start out thinking something would make a great post, but then I talk myself out of it, and in its place is a great void. It’s like my blog is being consumed by The Nothing and, like Bastian, I can only watch.
But whatever, right? It’s only a blog and it’s only the Internet. I’m still on the computer as much as I used to be, I suppose, mostly because that’s where the majority of my job exists. Not on the Internet, but near it. That’s sort of been the story of my life. I stay just on the outside of what’s happening; watching and listening as much as my failing eyes and ears allow, but never stepping with both feet into the inner circle. Never with the in crowd, but near it. Like a character actor you recognize, but can’t name. And if I continually believe that no one cares about what I have to say, that’s where I’ll stay. But you know what? I think this is where I want to stay.
It’s easy out here, on the outskirts of what’s happening. I’m not fighting for attention or raising my voice to be heard or worried about how my hair looks. I’m always wearing the right shoes and no one cares if I stutter. I don’t think I was ever right in the center of it all, but I was certainly closer to the action. Right now, further from the mark, this is exactly where I belong. I can be as quiet as I want, which is pretty quiet indeed.
There’s Probably Lots Of Better Stuff Than This To Read On The Internet
Posted: January 20, 2012 Filed under: Boring stuff you don't care about, How do you categorize "crazy"?, Stuff I love 6 Comments »Where have I been for the past week? Well…um…in the exact same spot I was when I last spoke to you? Literally. Pathetic and my buttcheeks are numb. But it’s the truth and I wouldn’t lie to you. I’m in the same chair and I’ve been doing the same thing all week.
Polyvore. Oh, you damn, dirty, devil. You’re like dress up dolls for grown ups with low standards for entertainment and long attention spans and I CAN’T QUIT YOU.
This week, I wore the following:
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Again, not exactly exact outfit matches, but really, really close.
And in between micro-documenting my day-to-day outfits, I’ve also created entire collections inspired by fictional characters. OH, YES I DID. It’s literally the funnest thing ever if you’re a super huge loser nerd with no friends and no life and a tendency to become obsessed with stupid stuff. Literally. I’ll save you having to look at every single set because THEY ARE PLENTY, but go ahead and clickity click if you’re curious.
Despicable Me, including Margo, Edith, Agnes, Gru, Vector and the Minions.
Because I am no where near ready to admit I have a problem (yeah, this doesn’t feel like rock-bottom to me), my next project is The Wizard Of Oz. Then Disney Villains. And then I DON’T KNOW WHAT BUT I’M EXCITED AND OH, GOD SOMEONE KILL ME.
I fromise* I’ll snap out of it soon. I can see that this is starting to get ridiculous; I’m just not ready to do anything about it yet. In the meantime, you should probably follow me on Pinterest, where I pin all my best Polyvore boards. And then we can fully cultivate this problem together. As a team.
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* fromise is what you say when you want someone to think you just made a promise, but you didn’t technically promise anything, so you really can’t be held accountable for your actions.
