It’s entirely impossible to be charming, beautiful AND brilliant all of the time. That is, unless your definition of charming is whiny, petty and self absorbed. If that is the case, I’m the most charming person ever. EVER.
And beautiful, eh…not so much. I’d post a picture of the horror that is my hair, but trust me, you don’t want to know. I’m in desperate (DESPERATE!) need of a hair cut, but I simply HATE having it done. I don’t trust people with scissors. I fear the words “oops” being uttered and I get annoyed when they casually ask me what kind of shampoo I use and then try to sell me the expensive stuff on their shelves.
A few cuts ago, the stylist tried to get me to color and highlight my hair. Truth be told, I’ve never colored my hair. I’m loathe to begin now because of the expense and upkeep required. Once any gray shows up, I might reconsider, but for now I’m au naturale. Anyway, the chick told me I should let her color my hair so it would look more “professional.” Professional? I’m not sure if she thought my hair wasn’t up to par with my professional career or she was telling me that whoever colored my hair previously did one heck of a hack job. Obviously my current “career” does not require that my hair maintain a level of professionalism. Cleaning toothpaste spattered mirrors and handing out ice pops to wild neighborhood children are tasks easily completed with a ponytail. If she meant the latter option, then she was just talking nonsense, since, you know…I’ve never colored my hair before. OR that was her way of hinting that my natural, untreated hair color really does look like I had a botched dye job. In which case, I’d be absolutely mortified and headed to Target for a box of Ms. Clairol….or whatever all you hip, highlighted people use these days.
I think she was just trying to get me to spend more money since she also talked me into a $15 deep conditioning treatment.
That woman was very persuasive. I am easily persuaded.
To recap, I’m NOT charming or beautiful and I’m certainly and most definitely NOT brilliant.
As if you were ever lead to believe that I was.
And no, I didn’t “wash” a pan in the microwave again. Or pour water on the modem. Or kill any goldfish. Or get the vacuum cord tangled up in the running motor. Or set the crock pot cord on fire….we don’t have a gas stove so that couldn’t possibly happen. Again.
You know, it’s really a miracle that I haven’t set our house on fire or killed any humans.
Today I did not do any of the aforementioned “brilliant” things to inspire this post, but I did, run for an hour before kickboxing class. It seemed like a good idea at the time as I’ve been feeling a bit “puffy” lately. Since I can’t just put the fork down, like a normal person, I figured running the puffiness out would be an acceptable alternative. In retrospect, this was a totally dumb idea.
I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.
I’m so very tired.
And every time I get up out of a chair or climb the stairs I groan.
Loudly. Obnoxiously. Like an old person. Not like the spritely young thing I am. Ha!
It’s definitely not the dumbest thing I’ve ever done, but right now I sure feel like it is.
That’s ok, I’ll get over it. I have to because I’m sure I’ll do something even more idiotic tomorrow.
Ever the optimist.