I got my hair did yesterday, finally. Of course, I would have enjoyed my salon experience better, had my hairdresser not been tweaking out on crack cocaine whilst coloring my lovely locks. Seriously. Usually my hairdresser is so quiet and soft-spoken, she barely makes a peep. I have gone to her four times before this, and never has she ever acted so erratically. From the moment I got there, she was talking a million words a minute, jumping back and forth from topic to topic in a senseless and irrational manner, barely pausing to take a breath. Needless to say, I was concerned about my ‘do. Then I remembered that most people in show business have drug problems, and they always look great.
Except Britney Spears.
There’s always an exception to the rule, and she’s it.
Anyway, it turned out okay. A little more blonde than I normally would go, but I’m over it if you are.
This morning a couple gentlemen from A.B. Mays Heating & Cooling Service stopped by to take yet another look at our half-ass furnace. I don’t know what it is about servicemen that makes them all mutter and grumble to themselves while they work. Seriously, it’s like one of the job requirements is that you have to be schizophrenic to work there. It’s weird. Anyway, in the midst of their job, I had to run out to an appointment, go tan, and stop at the grocery store. When I returned 3 hours later, I found the front door dead bolted shut.
The friendly servicemen thought they were doing me a favor by locking up before they left, but they did not realize that the door locks automatically anyway without the dead bolt, and I was locked out of the house. I scampered around back and found the back sliding door to the deck unlocked, except that there was a wooden dowel placed between the door and the wall to prevent creeps like myself from breaking in. I watched helplessly as Bentley and Parker trotted over, excited to see me, but without thumbs and incapable of removing the wood that would allow me to slide the door open. Blast. So the Neon and I had some bonding time as I waited for Ryan to whiz home like a god in a chariot to rescue me from boredom.
It has been at least 10 days since I have last enjoyed myself some Mi Ranchito. I’m starting to REALLY get the itch. What are the odds Trent feels like going out to eat tonight? Hopefully good. Although he’s at this job training that feeds him boat loads during lunch every day this week, and their catering services are really ruining my chances of going out for dinner. Blast those generous assholes. What are they thinking, going out of their way like that to ruin my evening meals? Some people are just real sociopaths.
Maybe it’s due to my lazy agenda this week and my new habit of sleeping in until at least 9:30 every morning that is causing this, but I have just NOT been sleeping through the night very well this week. I am evolving into a true insomniac, and that’s not something I enjoy. Last night for example, I laid on my back, stared aimlessly at the ceiling and slipped slowly into madness for at least two hours before tossing and turning around, envying Trent’s deep-slumber snoring and mumbling in his sleep, trying to trick myself into dreaming and drifting off. It was a frustrating night. Of course when morning comes, suddenly I slip into a coma and don’t want to get up until the soap operas start in the late afternoon. Maybe I should just force myself to get up at 6 a.m. tomorrow so that by the time my bedtime rolls around, I’m ready to pass out like Lindsay Lohan at the Fairfax by 11 pm.
Too bad my religion prevents me from getting out of bed before 8.
…That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
This weekend I will be working yet another Cutco show at the convention center. I simply cannot wait to see what freak shows make an appearance this time. I’ll be sure to sneak photos of them and update you about the zoo I witness later. One of these days, I’m going to get punched in the nose for taking pictures of strangers. I’m sure of it. I’ve been caught before, actually, by a man in Hy-Vee. He was wearing a lumberjack hat, a black trench coat, and really horrible flood pants. I couldn’t resist. Just as I was snapping the photo though, he looked directly at me. It was pretty awkward, but it certainly didn’t stop me from continuing my naughty habit.
SIGH. Not working is giving me a pretty serious case of cabin fever. I need to go somewhere, do something, or buy something. Maybe I will see a movie tonight. Everyone keeps talking about The Book of Eli. I don’t know what it’s about, but as long as it’s not in my living room, I’ll see it.
Well, that’s all I have right now, boys and girls. More later.
“A giant bowl of Raisin Bran and a FiberOne bar is a horrible choice for breakfast when you have to sit through an 8 hour training lecture.”