so i know i'm obsessed.

I get obsessive about things. Songs. Shows. Pretty much anything.

But then, who doesn't? Right?

I may be worse than the average person, but I like to think it's just a version of my passion.

I realized that I currently totally working an obsession on my CBC (Cute Bartender Crush, just for an update) when I was watching "Casablanca" tonight for a class and as I was watching Humphrey Bogart I kept on thinking, "who the hell does he remind me of."

My ultimate decision? Kind of CBC. Like if CBC was that age.

I think I have it bad.

I know the only reason for this is because I saw him last Friday for the first time in a couple of months. Granted it would help if I actually frequented the bar more than once a couple of months, but that would just be too easy.

Anyway.

I totally forgot just how cute and adorable he actually was.

That said, I don't think he actually is anything like the Bogart.

Thank goodness.

humour in a time of darkness.

CBF has been having real issues with his new job, in that it's just a very, very, very difficult and tiring job. He expected the worst, and somehow, it was even worse.

We've been talking regularly, as usual, though not daily and I think him talking slash venting about it does seem to help. And really? From the stories he tells, I'm fucking amazed.

One of the reasons that I love him so dearly is that we are able to make our worst pain really funny. He's even better than me; because somehow after of course serious "Shit, that's awful. I'm sorries," he will always tell an anecdotal story that has us ending up laughing really hard.

We've both been going through some stress lately, and one of the things we share right now is the fact that we're both fucking poor. I mean I budgeted the next week down to the dime. I have no room for error. I looked up the cost of toilet paper online at CVS so I could geusstimate how much it was going to cost with my Drano and two other essential items.

I digress. But I guess that's an update on the last post of not taking toilet paper from my office.

Anyway, we were both lamenting our poverty, and he was saying how was in Virgin Megastore and he really wanted the new Tracy Chapman CD, but then he was all, "I'm not a lesbian. I don't need her new CD!!" to convince himself. I don't know if it was his delivery or just the joke itself, but we both fucking died laughing.

Then I had to laugh again today, because I went to one of my favourite daily sites, Afterellen.com, a lebian/bi media viewed site that is pretty interesting and funny, along with its' younger brother Afterelton.com, and the lead story is a review of the new Tracey Chapman CD.

I had to bust out laughing.

It's funny because it's true.

how poor are you?

So poor that I'm contemplating toilet paper from work until my next paycheck.

The even sadder part?

If I do indeed decide to take some, I'd be unrolling a shit-load (pardon the pun) from the roll because they're locked in.

How poor is everyone else?

Updated to add: So poor that I was really excited when I got a $5 bill in the mail with some stupid article from my mom. That's just pathetic.

it's that damn accent.

I, like pretty much everyone else I'm sure, have a total thing for accents. Especially Irish and British ones. I mean you become exponentially more attractive with an accent. I mean teeth are a big thing for me. You need to have good teeth, and so if you don't have good teeth that's a turn-off.

If you have an accent? Suddenly those teeth might just not be that horrible. Granted, not all accents have that effect on me, and I have to generally say that I do enjoy the Australian accent sometimes, though I often find it sounds like they're complaining, and the Scottish one doesn't do that much for me, but it still helps.

I have a total fangirl crush on Craig Ferguson.

Yes.

That Craig Ferguson.

The one that was on the Drew Carey show after it had already jumped the ship.

The one who didn't really stand out that much on the show anyway; which? Granted it's a little difficult with the likes of Mimi, but I just didn't really notice him.

It's probably because his accent was Scottish, and I would most likely have to say his true personality didn't come out. He was the chosen successor of Craig Kilborn, and really? Does anyone even remember that he began the Daily Show compared the shining brilliance of Jon Stewart, and does anyone think he isn't a complete fucking jackass, because I sure don't. He has always grated on my nerves like no other. Whenever I saw him hosting his late show, and I was watching for the guest, I invariably found myself shouting profanities at the screen.

I don't really watch late night programs anymore. I don't have the time. Jay Leno's turned into a complete wanker. David Letterman is pretty funny but not enough so that I should be punking my homework for him, and he bugs sometimes as well. I think I just have less patience at the particular hour. Though I can always watch Conan and have since the beginning. It was one of the few programs that aired in English in high school. I digress.

I've since caught the Late Show with Craig Ferguson and each time I find myself giggling at his skits like some schoolgirl crushee and just generally thinking, he's so fucking funny and adorable. And isn't that accent the cutest? Though I again, just generally don't watch late night television.

I just plopped on his program again, and it was hilarious and he was just fucking hot, and he's even rocking the gently graying hair.

I would totally fuck that.

shock and aww

It's interesting. Every year with each awards show, I pretend that I'm not going to watch. And I also pretend to not care who wins because I'm upset with half the people that are nominated and shocked by those that aren't.

This year was especially horrible.

Patricia Arquette, who seemingly is incapable of expressing an emotion because she lost that emotive capability when born I'm assuming, won for best actress in a drama. What the fuck? She was the last person I thought who would win. I was wondering if the other actresses in the category were all, "really?" I mean she had some typical competition. The ones that the Emmy voters enjoy nominating and whatnot, but it was so bizarre.

I thought I was going to be most upset by the fact that Arrested Development was going to be robbed of a Best Comedy award by Desperate Housewives which is over-rated drivel in comparison, and not really a comedy. Wrong. I was okay with Everybody [Hates] Raymond winning because that wasn't unexpected and it wasn't DH.

Though how can a series that is nominated three times in the best writing for a comedy and wins! in that category not win for actual best comedy? I think I was okay with it because at least AD won for best writing in a comedy series.

Are Emmy voters actually watching the shows they're being sent? I mean Patricia Arquette? I mean most winners were to be expected, but really?!?!

And Ellen. I love you. I love your show. I think you're awesome, and I'm surprised that they were able to make you un-funny. You were the best thing about the Grammy's two years ago with the rotating hosts. I've watched your specials. You're hilarious. I was saddened by your hosting. Yet? Couldn't look away despite the pile of reading I need to do.

The best part might have been with Kristin Bell sang Fame. Stupidest gimmick ever, but Kristin rocked the song and reminded me why I was excited about watching Veronica Mars again. It's been too long and I hope you don't suffer a soph slump like every other show on the planet.

Except for Arrested Development, whose second season might have been better than the first, which is pretty impressive. I can't say enough about it. Thank goodness Fox hasn't cancelled it yet, and everyone in the world should watch it tomorrow at 8 on Fox. Do it. It'll be the best half-hour of your day.

Funny, how the reading is still there. Hours ahead of me. Awesome. And I'm sitting here posting about the trite Emmys.

I guess the semester really has begun again.

crappy mondays.

It seems the general feeling of Mondays this week is a resounding: crappy.

CBF left me a message about how today was one of those day's where you want to quit your job and then kill yourself. Which? I can totally understand. He sounded exhausted and I believe sleeping or too tired to talk when I called.

Stretch called and left a long message on my answering machine while I was out with the kids in my program to the point where she was cut off from the machine. Something I'm familiar with, but that's because I can never shut the fuck up when I'm leaving a message.

Stretch's day? Long and crappy. Including an unfortunate incidence of a fender bender.

On a new car.

Crappy.

In high school, and well, it started when I was in middle and elementary school, I always loved "Garfield." Couldn't get enough of the cartoon and as a youngster (before 3rd grade. Trust me on this) I had a night t-shirt with Garfield and my horoscope on it. Or at least what my sign supposedly represented. I digress.

One thing I really came to appreciate in high school was Garfield's constant hatred of Mondays. I hated going to school again on Mondays. Wishing it was the weekend already.

It's weird. I haven't really had that strong of a reaction to Monday's in quite some time, but right now, all I want to do is go back to sleep and wake up and have it be Tuesday.

Maybe it's time to embrace the inner Garfield, and maybe it was just a really bad Monday for a lot of people out there.

new york! new york!

I'm off again, hoping that the China town express (and really? More of a hamlet than a town. A street.) will bring me safely and on time. That they don't try and fix the engine with a hammer this time. I mean really. I've never fixed a car, but I don't think hammering it will help!

I'm off for my last weekend before the semester begins. Instead of staying home as I should, I'm traveling for 5 hours each way for a merry time. Or so I hope.

Actually? I fucking love the city. I'm sure it'll be fun. I almost love the city as much as CBF, or in 50's immortal words, "like a fat kid loves cake." I don't know why that has always been my favourite line by him.

What am I expecting to do this weekend? Relax. Get a pedicure. (Because seriously? The place in CBF's neighbourhood is fucking a-mazing! The last time when the guy was giving me a serious massage, not that slap-slap with some lotion and you're done type of shit, I swear I almost had a happy ending in the chair!) Potentially have my eyebrows threaded. Relax. Walk around the city. Relax. Buy accessories I have no business buying and in no way need. Relax. *

I hope everyone has a fabulous weekend, and I would just like to take this time to blame Stretch for me taking a cab yesterday to jury duty and wasting money. I'll extrapolate on that later.

*Drinking should be added after each activity.

taking bets.

It seems that Stretch and Killer were making bets about whether I would update my blog or call Stretch.

Sigh.

It seems I failed on both accounts. Or they would have somehow made money on both.

I do have to say though that my mother's internet is frustratingly slow. I mean glaciers move faster. The Titanic sunk faster than it does to load a page with any graphics on it.

Plus? We were constantly running around with appointments and whatnot, and let me tell you, a 3 hour time difference is a very large wall to leap. In fact, I didn't talk to anyone whilst I was at home. Not even CBF. If that makes Stretch feel any better.

So, I guess this is my 'sorry' post.

That? And I'm fucking crazy because I forgot I'm going to New York this weekend.

Just as i got back.

preparing for dry heat.

Not to be confused with dry heaving.

Okay.

It must be time to take a break because that was just fucking atrocious.

I've been away this week due to my business with work and internship, but I'm about to jet off to dry heat with a layover in the city of sin, so I'll be posting more.

My music suggestion for the day though is "Blood Bleeds" by The Helio Sequence. It's one of those songs you can just listen to for hours and it kind of sounds like you're floating. I know that sounds weird, but at the moment with stress from work and whatnot, that's the best I can come up with.

Stretch? I'll be calling because I'll have reception and time.

where everybody knows your name.

So who doesn't wish that they had a bar where you were considered a regular and got free drinks.

That has always sort of been my wish. I think it's the free drinks part that I would really love. Plus? Totally cool with the wait staff. I think the closest that this has ever happened since moving to DC is Nanny O'Brian's, and even then, it's only when I'm with Killer because she knows them. Plus? Cute bartender.

Note to self (and Killer) it's time to hit Nanny's again. Must see if CBC is still working there.

What I think is truly sad is that the front desk chick at my tanning salon doesn't ask for my name anymore when I go in.

So I haven't achieved that name thing yet with a bar, but I have with a tanning salon.

What is wrong with me?

stoned white guy dance.

As Shortie said when we were discussing it, "You're body just isn't supposed to bend like that."

Shortie is a huge fan of Jerry Garcia. And I do mean Jerry Garcia, not just Grateful Dead, though that may be her main love. She's loved them for ages, and I guess, who can really blame her. I went through a bit of a Dead phase in high school, but it was mainly their Skeleton's in the Closet CD.

I remember having a discussion junior year in college, with a bunch of pretty preppy girls, and they were discussing how everyone goes through a hippie or punk stage. I mean, this one girl was talking about her hippie phase in high school, and I couldn't even fucking imagine it.

I still think she was lying.

Perhaps a hippie phase is a rite of passage that everyone does take and some people just don't grow out of.

I now know, for certain, that some just don't.

Due to the fact that Shortie was nice enough to accompany me to Iota for the Joseph Arthur concert, I agreed to go with her for the Jerry Garcia tribute concert on Tuesday.

And if anything, it was not all for naught considering I found out that August 9th is big because it was also the same day that Nixon resigned. Trivia fact I won't forget for at least a week.

I have never been to a Dead show, nor have I been to a Phish concert so I wasn't quite sure what kind of crowd to expect at the tribute concert, but I would have to say that Shortie and I were well below the mean age. Now there were some 'younger' people our age, some that were hot, but not that many. It seems that those preppy boys in New England travel down south too.

The place was fucking packed to the gills. I was surprised to say the least. Most of all when there was a person who traveled from California. California. For the concert. Like, dude, the man is dead and the person singing there on the stage 'sn't him. Not only that, but you're like at least mid-thirties and you've got a mouthful of fucking metal. I'm totally not standing next to you during a summer storm. When she was on stage for accepting her prize for traveling the furthest and she smiled, I thought I was going to be blinded by the reflection bouncing from her gaping maw. I know. It's a framed photo. It's cool. But try and not catch too many bugs.

As Shortie and I arrived early )she was taking pictures of the band for the band, so needed to be there early for a good spot), we found a space by the bar to order our drinks. Unfortunately it was next to one of the 'different' patrons who were excited about hearing Jerry's music. He immediately started blathering on to us about something, I can't even remember fucking what. I just remember thinking, a) where the fuck did the bartender go? and b) dude. Buy yourself some teeth. Everyone past the age of 40 does it. When there is nothing stopping any foreign object from getting into your mouth when it's in a closed position, it's time to look into some fucking options. There was also, of course, the last thought of, shut your fucking trap fuckwit.

I was a little tired and cranky.

I remember that Vh1 earlier this year was running a spcial on like high school fads or something. Or my high school years or something, and then had stars talking about them. One of them was a hippie one, and it had people talking about getting stoned and going to the different concerts. One of them, I believe it was Jim Breuer (good choice Vh1!), talking about the stoner hippie dance that everyone would do but was atrocious.

I had never seen it before Tuesday night.

It only took one song before some dude with his tie-dyed shirt with the Dead and long stringy hippy hair with no shoes busted to the front and started doing the dance. I mean. I think you could scare away people with the dance. It doesn't go along with the music. It looks a-tro-cious and ridiculous, wrapped in a 'what the fuck are you doing still dancing like this in your mid-40's' all wrapped into one. I was standing there thinking, Are you fucking kidding me? Then the mobs started joining in.

I can't even quite describe it. It's sorts of like, you know where if you were walking in a sheet and pretending to be a ghost with your arms out and walking in a weird way? It's kind of like that with a vicious bopping added to it. And this one dude, who should totally be sore, was doing this aggravated bopping back and forth. I'm surprised he didn't actually hurt someone.

Then of course there was the corporate sell-out trying to dance with his girlfriend. If you're wearing an ironed white short-sleeved button down shirt and front pleated khakis looking like any other geek drone, you're not allowed to try and rock out to Jerry's music. Or block my fucking view of the band, or almost step on me because you're trying to 'dance.' Fucker.

Then there was the other guy, clearly old, I mean count the number of hairs left on your head to tell your age, who replaced the annoying metronome dancer and starting doing a weird fucking fusion of the shake with a stoner movement. And get in my personal space and step on me. I was here first and you're just being obnoxious. Shake that flabby old ass away from me and towards the stage!

When not infringing on my personal space it was really funny, and the band did a really good of covering the songs and sending a good vibe to the crowd. They had this one musician with them, who played with Jerry at a concert and was fucking awesome. He had more soul in his tambourine than the entire band combined with the audience. He fucking rocked, especially when he got the lead on some songs. The voice and harmonica playing was almost what really made it for me.

What was interesting as well, was the size of the band. They had all the instruments, and as I told Shortie in the beginning, which? To make this easier for me from now on, I'm reverting to her nickname Stretch gave her in college. Sorry Killer. Hope you're not confused. Plus? I got bored with Shortie. I digress. So, I was telling Killer that I was excited someone was going to be playing the fiddle, because I really do love me some good, live fiddle playing in a band. And the girl was really good at it too.

I think stoners might single-handedly be the reason why there is the stigma that white men can't dance.

Or maybe they should really restrict that to, white straight men can't dance.

fucking cocksucker wanker

I found this advert during my initial obsession with The OC last year.

Yes. Previous to the L Word.

And it's sad really, because I think that's pretty much gone now too. Well, we'll clearly have to wait and see about that, but for the moment I'm doing pretty good.

I digress though.

I fucking love to swear. I have a mouth like a sailor, and I know sometimes it does get me into a little trouble when there are times where I shouldn't swear, but I just love to do it. Plus, it can be funny or it can really help you vent when you're pissed.

I don't understand people that don't like to swear.

Anyway, an advert in Britain, because yeah, when we were all up in arms with a nipple people, has famous actors, mostly American and of the TV variety, including a gaggle of West Wingers and all of the Scrubs cast saying their favourite swear words.

It's fucking brilliant and hilarious. The original link I had died awhile ago and I've been dying to watch it again, and with a little sleuthing I found it.

Fucking hilarious. There are some weird web ads on the top but scroll down and it should start.

I think one of the fucking brilliant parts is actually watching the actor's expressions when they are saying them - ranging to slightly embarassed to ebullient.

Zach Braff bugs lately, though I did used to have a might crush on him, but he's one of the best. As is Rachel Bilson's reaction.

Anyway, Fuck is my favourite swear word. Just for the record. Though I do love them all.

ETA: If that link doesn't work, I personally was having some problems using it again, I found it again on another person's blog...which? Totally makes me seem like I'm copying, but whatever.

rain man of queer entertainment.

Well.

I guess this shouldn't be a surprise.

I took a 'gay entertainment quiz' on planetout.com and this was what they wrote afterwards:

Wow -- you're the rain man of queer entertainment trivia! Either that, or you're
spending a little too much time studying that People magazine -- unless you're
getting ready to go on "Gay Jeopardy" or something.

Yeah.

Maybe they were right to send me 'Options.'

you fuck one goat...

I went to go check my mail yesterday; mostly looking forward to getting my Entertainment Weekly, when instead I have a junk mail and a letter from something called 'Options."

It turns out that 'Options' is a gay dating service. It's bad enough when I get letters in the mail being all, 'Single? Join us!' I remember when Stretch would get really upset when she would get those letters, and i would laugh because I hadn't received them yet.

You know it's bad when you're getting gay dating service propostions. You make one donation to HRC and all the gay solicitations come out of the woodwork.

But at least I have 'options,' right?

what's your count?

It's too hot, and I've been too tired to post anything of interest this week.

I'm still recovering from my visit to the city, and I can't shake the fatigue that I've had associated with the visit. Or it could be that I might be slightly sick, but trying not to succumb to that either. I choose to blame it on the heat right now.

Why again did our forefathers build on a swamp? Were they fucking crazy or stupid? I mean I realize it wasn't supposed to be inhabited by 'commoners,' but still.

One of the many fun things about an iTunes player is that it automatically creates a playlist with your most 25 played songs. This doesn't include songs that you skip. Only ones that are actually fully played. Along with the fact that you can always see the playcount of each song in your collection.

Clearly if you have a limited number of songs, your playcount for each should be high. Or if you like to listen to songs on repeat, like I do sometimes. It's interesting to look at the list though, to see what songs you have listened to the most, without inadvertently skipping them over.

My top played song? "Don't Panic," by Coldplay coming in way ahead of the game at 587 plays. Granted it's two and a half minutes long. Second is "In the Waiting Line" by Zero 7 at 451.

I have a hard time fathoming that I've listened to both of those songs so many times.

What's your #1 played song?

the smell of laundry turns me on.

Before you judge, let me explain.

Smell is my strongest sense. Seriously. It's as if I didn't have one of my five senses and so my sense of smell was heightened. I can recognize perfumes with people walking by, often when others wouldn't even notice the perfume or cologne. Earlier this week as I was asking my boss about my time off to go to visit my mom, I noticed she was wearing a new scent, and asked if it was "Chance" by Chanel. She didn't know because it was a sample, and so went looking. It was one of those moments, where I was like, um, I was asking and now it's weird because you're digging through your gym bag. Turns out I was right. She was duly impressed. I was duly embarassed for inadvertently making it this huge thing.

My heightened olfactory sensitivity is most likely the reason why I am so obsessed with perfumes, and yes, I know. I sometimes will spray too much in the beginning, but it's fine by the time I get to work or wherever I am. I mean it's the reason I get compliments on how I smell, right? Just as I do when I'm not wearing a watch, I feel naked without perfume on. One time in college we were all going out to dinner and someone forgot something, as I realized I forgot to spray perfume, or we were looping around or something, but I remember that I made my friend pull over so I could run back in the dorm and spritz on perfume. My friend was nice enough to indulge me, but I know she thought I was crazy and slightly annoyed. I didn't care, I just felt better when I put it on.

When I find a scent of something that I really, really like I can't get enough of it. I'll practically shove my face in it and take massive sniffs. I went on a trip for my rehearsal dinner outfit with annoying girl and she made me stop by Neiman's to see about getting her Reef's for the summer. I realized that I hadn't sprayed perfume and so I was trying to find a scent to quickly spritz on. The sales people were overzealous. Neiman's. And so I grabbed the nearest bottle, did a quick check to make sure it wasn't obnoxious and sprayed it on. I found out like 30 minutes later as we were in the car how much I loved the scent. I kept on putting my wrist up to my nose and taking a deep whiff. I went home and looked online at Neiman's for like 2 hours, because I at least remembered the shape of the bottle. I thought I may have found it, but was all, I should definitely go to Neiman's and make sure. I made it back a few weeks later with CBF and the we were unable to find the correct bottle or scent. I was crushed.

The scent of Aqua di Gio for men drives me wild. I would crush a teddy bear if it was wearing the scent. I've found guys more attractive just for wearing it. I mean, people I wouldn't necessarily find attractive at all. Just because they're wearing it. Sometimes I will smell the trail of it in my hallway or of the person in front of me. I know, my olfactory skillz are freakishly strong.

So as I was on my way to Giant on Sunday to pick up my bus pass, I could smell the laundry along the route. Sunday being the natural laundry day, and apartments cluttering my walk to Giant. The wind being expelled by the dryers was fucking awesome. I mean it's clearly mostly softener that makes that smell, but I love it. I kept on taking big whiffs, and being all, man that fucking smells good. Cologne is a big turn on, but if they smelled like fresh laundry that would also for me be a big turn on. As a side note though, I think actually doing laundry is a total pain in the ass and hate doing it. I believe I would feel differently if I had laundry in my apartment rather than traipsing up and down two flights of stairs and down a long hallway. I always love briefly shoving my face in the pile of clothes that come out my laundry bag, that are still warm, and taking a big whiff.

I know. It's fucking bizarre.

Just on Monday, the day after I was walking along the street and having the realization that this fresh laundry smell kind of turns me on, in a reaction way of, "God this smells good," and let's take another whiff, two of my internship co-workers randomly brought up laundry. We all agreed that we didn't like to do it, but the other two were all, "It's my most hated chore!" One going on to say that she will do all the chores such as dishes and whatnot so that her partner would do the laundry. I was like, "Fuck no! Are you crazy?! Dishes and everything else is so much worse!" Well, I actually just said, "Really?" But that's because I want to keep my internship.

Fast-forward to today and I'm in CVS going to choose out new shoe inserts for my sneakers. Cheap-ass Diesel sneakers where the inserts came out promptly upon purchasing them. Okay, like 2 weeks. But. Still. And I've had the same inserts since then, which was like ages ago. It's the first time I've worn them this season, and felt it was time to get new ones. So yes. I'm gellin'. Thanks, Dr. Scholl. Anyway, so I'm swinging around and down another aisle when I stop in my tracks because I smell that awesome smell of fresh laundry slash dryer sheets. I pause briefly by the boxes and take another brief smell and am about to walk on, when I'm all, should I buy this brand considering I really enjoy it? More seemingly than others? Plus, it's CVS brand and it's a buy one get one free. I start to walk away, because really. I have both liquid softener and dryer sheets at home. But then, I start to backpedal. Maybe I can leave them in my office, leaving it smelling good? And really, can you beat a buy one, get one free? Come on Karen. Just get it.

I'm now sitting here with two boxes of CVS fabric softener, and they smell pretty good.

I know. I'm fucking strange.

not quite the same, but it'll do.

Last night my holy blueberry coffee finally arrived. I was ecstatic, especially since if it did not arrive yesterday I would have been pissed because of the inefficiency of the Green Mountain site and not recording my shipping change.

So of course the first thing I did was bust open one of the bags to get a whiff. And that sniff smelled fabulous! I wanted to make a cup right then and there, but restrained myself so that I could actually, you know, sleep.

I decided that I should prepare the coffeemaker though, so that all I would have to do was turn it on in the morning, because I am such an awful morning person and am always waking up later than I should.

The result was that my apartment smelled vaguely of a blueberry and coffee mixture, which was delightful, and especially delightful to wake-up to. So I amazed myself in turning on the coffee and then hitting the snooze. Pat on the back for that fortitude.

So I made an iced version of the coffee this morning, and it was rather tasty. Still strong despite the ice, it's like I naturally make sludge or something. The only thing that would have made it fabulous though would be a tidge of milk. Then it would have been just like Breuggers. Well. Except for without the straw. Or the really tall glass. Or the plentiful ice that doesn't automatically melt away when you pour the coffee in.

Otherwise though? Totally the same experience.

Awesome! This is so going to come in handy when the semester begins again.

finally getting my hair done.

Since moving to the DC area, I have yet to find a place where I am happy with both the hair cut and the actual highlights as well.

I mean, scratch that. I can't find a place where I have enjoyed the hair cut or highlights, even if in different locations. The other main problem is the price of either, or both.

The first time I finally ponied up and said I needed to go to the hair salon because my hair was looking like shit and needed a cut, I went to the place downstairs from where I work. From recommendations from those I worked with.

It did not turn out well.

Granted at the time I was dying my hair a reddish-brown color, and I had waited too long and the roots and the hair...It was B.A.D. I mean my roots looked orangish. And were a different color than the rest of my hair.

And? It cost like 80 bucks. It could have been more. I can't remember that far back anymore.

Afterwards, I decided that it would be best to have reddish highlights instead of subjecting my entire crown and hair to the damage of multiple dyings. Because that first time? They tried to dye it like twice to make it a solid color, and it killed my hair.

So I decide not to go to the "euro" place which was cheaper, though no Europeans worked there, and went to a salon chain next door to this one. Which was also recommended. It was fine. The cut was fine. The highlights were a bit 'meh.' I couldn't really tell that they even put highlights in. The most unfortunate part was that with tipping, of 3! people, I paid something like $130.

I don't fucking think so.

Since I wasn't blown away, I refuse to pay that much money now.

The only service I was totally happy with was this eyebrow guy at the salon across the street from where I work. Yeah, I don't know why we're completely flooded with salons. This guy was amazing, and really took care and time. I was jonesing to go again awhile back and it seems that he left. I was devastated, especially since I don't know where he is now in this big bad city.

The only person who I have been consistently happy with at all times, and I do mean throughout my life including high school is this woman who cuts my mother's hair. She's fucking awesome. Whenever she cuts my hair, and either highlights and lowlights...I mean the woman introduced me to lowlights, or whatever I may ask her to do, people will compliment me on it. I don't know why she has the magic touch with my hair, but I have never been satisfied as I have been with her. She's got the touch. Even better? For a cut and highlights? $70. Awesome!

I do have to admit, I have been happy with Mrs. home-town hair-cutter. She trimmed my hair over Easter and it was a good cut. But she's also a drunk. Which we, meaning Mrs. and her entire family who have her do their hair all the time too, know. I mean the woman has bought us shots of Kamikaze before at the local bar when we've been out. Mrs.' mom says that she's been drunk and cut her hair before. She's missed appointments before because of hang-overs. I mean the stories about her are hilarious. But. They still continue to see her because she's an awesome hair-dresser. Though one time, and I swear she must have been drunks, she put the wrong hair-dye color in the bowl and Mrs. hair turned out his purple color.

Purple.

Mrs. was less than enthused if you can imagine. So they then had to strip her hair, which totally kills your hair of course and re-do the entire thing. Mrs. still wasn't totally happy with the color but at least it wasn't purple.

My hair wouldn't be able to stand a stripping, so I'm never going to let her try to color my hair.

Earlier this summer I started to think about how busy it was going to be with internship and work, and really how I needed to get my hair done again. Plus? Really need to see the chiropractor and I wanted a massage. This of course meant, hmm...I should see about going to visit my mother. I know. It's kind of awful, but I do want to see her as well.

I made my ticket on Monday.

My mom called this morning to tell me that she made my hair appointment finally. On the 18th at 1pm.

As soon as I made the ticket I was heckling her to make the appointment for me. I know. Awful.

Essentially?

I'm travelling 3,000 miles to get a hair-cut and highlights.

blueberry update.

A regular reader of this blog would believe that I'm obsessed with blueberry coffee. They wouldn't be that off either.

I was talking with Mrs. B. on the phone the other day; expounding on the virtues and tastes of blueberry coffee. Much as I first heard of blueberry coffee from Stretch, she was skeptical. I assured her that it was indeed really tasty and she should totally try it, especially since she has tons of DD's in Atlanta.

Fast-forward a few days and she M.B. calls me at work, while she's driving her car in for a check-up. It seems that she tried the blueberry coffee at DD's and it was pretty gross. I believed the words she used were, 'sickeningly sweet' and that it was just bad coffee. I do have to say that I was momentarily shocked that she even tried it because she usually doesn't listen to what I have to say if she has a firm opinion on something, and she pretty much thought the idea was gross. I asked if it was a flavour shot, which she confirmed, and I said was most likely the root of her problem. I told her that she should head towards the closest Bruegger's Bagel and try it there because it was brewed rather than with flavour.

Rule: In any case, actual brewed flavoured coffee is better than a shot of flavour. Even at DD's, which kind of pains me to say.

So I was regaling Stretch with this story last night and she was all, maybe you could buy the coffee from Bruegger's site because it is Green Moutain Coffee. Now, Stretch knowing this must mean that she frequents it really often. Or she's just a little crazy. Or. You know. A mixture of both.

Bruegger's doesn't sell coffee off their website, but Green Mountain Coffee does. And they have the Wild Blueberry flavoured one.

I now have two bags of Blueberry Coffee en route to my apartment. Okay. They'll be en route Monday, but still. WOOOOT!!!

It might not be as good as the stuff made at Bruegger's, but it must be somewhat akin, because I know how incompetent those people were at the one in PA.

The Blueberry Crisis has seemingly been resolved. And if my coffee doesn't arrive by this weekend, which it fucking should, and if it doesn't I'll be pissed, at least I can hit DD's in the city. CBF promised that we would stop by this time. Gotta try this too sweet coffee.

this one's for stretch.

It seems that one my regular reads is pimping for RIF today.

Not only, a mention, but an actual suggestion for a donation.

Could this be better than Jerry O'Connell playing (and losing early-on) for RIF in Celebrity Poker on Bravo?

I think it just might be.