salon results

Ok. Let's all just admit that the blog is dying. Its life is slowly seeping out of it in a way that reminds me of my old beta fish, who eventually committed suicide by jumping out of his (or her? can you tell with fish?) tank, meeting death from the soft and cushy carpet of my upstairs bedroom. Oh Shooting Star, why did you have to leave me? Was it because I kept you in a tank the size of a shot glass? Did you  not like swimming, living in, and breathing your own feces? I thought your life was good. But I guess every shooting star eventually becomes a meteor that crashes into the surface of a planet and explodes. You were only living up to your name.

...why am I talking to my dead fish? 

#ihavenofriends #jk #ihavelotsoffriends #rightguys? #hashtag

ANYway, I came back to this forsaken land of a blog because for the first time in about 7 years I went to a hair salon. And while there I realized a few things about myself. Because self-realization can happen anywhere.

So, since it's been awhile, I present another list all about me. yay.

6 Reasons why I Don't Belong in a Salon

4 points for slant rhymes

1. Mirrors 

There are mirrors everywhere in salons. Big ones hanging from the ceiling, entire walls made of mirrors, little ones hidden in drawers, decorative circular mirrors arranged in perfectly random patterns, reflective surfaces on hair dryers and chairs, sparkles in the tile, and the eyeballs of the other women sitting in their adjustable seats. No matter where you are in the salon, you can see any other person in the salon, and sometimes the lady across the street walking her kitten in a night gown. I don't want to see myself or anyone else's backward face that much. people look like completely different beings in a mirror! admit it. and then you sprain your brain trying to realize that you've never actually seen your own face and what if you don't look anything like what you think you look like and then you're in a panic attack. But at least there's a mirror there for you to see yourself having a panic attack.

2. Small Talk

There are not many things I dislike more than having to make small talk with a complete stranger who I know I'm never going to see again. I don't like telling strangers about all the gossip of my life, my opinions on having kids, where I'd put a tattoo if I had one, or the name of my favorite childhood stuffed animal. it was mr. bear for all who are interested. he had a floral suit and bow tie. Nor do I care to hear about their latest drama with waxing their armpits, what shingles is like for them, or how many times they've spilled diet coke in their car. Chatting is some people's favorite part of the salon visit. But unless you want to small talk about the ethics behind price gauging during times of natural disaster, chat about the responsibility of the West in the current turmoil between Ukraine and Russia, or gossip about the completely ridiculous nature of conspiracy theories and my utter lack of patience for those who hold to them, I am not one of those people.

3. Literature

I shouldn't even call it that, for to do so is to disgrace every single combination of words that has ever existed on any of planets known or unknown to humankind. The magazines at the salon are trashy and degrading. I mean, I like attractive men, nice clothes, and beauty products as much as the next woman, but that stuff on the coffee table is out of hand. Fortunately I found a Sotheby's catalog to thumb through instead, and came to the conclusion that I need to own a $44 million dollar home in Park City. So far I have four 1 dollar bills in my wallet. #onmyway

4. Smells

I think I about died of asphyxiation a number of times. But hey, now my hair smells like flowers. Chemically engineered flowers. mmmmmmm

5. They cut your hair

I know, this seems ridiculous. That's why I went in there, to get my hair cut. But every single time I do I really wish I hadn't. Yes, it was only 2 inches and now it feels soft and smooth, the ends aren't breaking off into my food and I no longer resemble a 78 year old broom. But its shorter. I don't like that. And I had to pay for it.

6. I don't look any different

In the end, I walk out as Rachel Weiler. I haven't suddenly been transformed into Jennifer Lawrence or Blake Lively or Jennifer Aniston, who are the women I have hair envy of. I still have a cowlick in the middle of my forehead and whispies that do whatever the heck they want. i actually have very fond and endearing feelings toward both my cowlick and whispies. for the record. but is that weird still? meh.

I am grateful for the talent and training that the stylists in salons have undergone in order to provide me with such a necessary service. I'm just going to stick to my schedule of visiting the hair school every 6 months for my semi-annual trim. That way I can just keep looking like this for the rest of my life. 

Some man is going to be very lucky. Or at least very understanding.

peace and Reeses' Puffs Cereal

rrw

someday I'll post pictures from Montana. Its just that I have over 800 of them so....

4 Pics 1 Week

-Mountains, trees, hiking...I mean come on! Summer is here. Get out there and take in the vistas. I suggest Glacier National Park surprise surprise but Logan Canyon, Millcreek Canyon, and even Provo Canyon have some pretty fantastic areas if driving 14+ hours isn't in your weekend plans. My goal is to find some new trails this summer because this whole sitting-in-a-chair-all-day thing is killing me. Kind of.

-Sorry for all those who are grossed out by feet holla atcha jr high friends and those who are just grossed out by MY feet ....sisters.... but I have had some pretty successful dirt/tan lines going on this week. This is nothing compared to my sister-in-law's Chaco lines though. She's so cool.

-Batman was spotted at the nearby Macey's on Tuesday.

-Met up with these lovelies for some frozen yogurt and to catch up on their lives. sorry boys, both are taken.  I was extremely please with my cold concoction of Cookies...you know what, never mind. I can think of nothing more boring than reading about what someone else decided to put in their dairy product. So just enjoy the picture, which shows that my #nomakeupmonday became #nomakeupanyday this week. It happens.

peace

rrw

humans are cool

I'm in one of these moods where I just want to write. I think it's probably because I've been looking at Humans of New York for too long and seeing all the different types of people on there gets in me in an expressive state of mind. I probably should stop looking at that website because it makes me want to be a liberal. And we all know that it's completely unacceptable for a middle class, Caucasian, BYU student whose dad works in the finance field to be a liberal. Plus I would be the worst liberal because the most eccentric article of clothing in my wardrobe is a pair of neon pink shoes with green polo players printed on them. (I think they're a Ralph Lauren knockoff or something. But I don't know enough about clothes and brands to be sure.)

One of my favorites from Humans of New York.

I want to be that woman someday.

I'm going to have to start stretching now though.

In other news, my friend Tracie and I discovered the place for single girls to eat. Firehouse Subs. Seriously, we went there last night and were two of three girls in the entire place. Sure, there was obviously a Young Men's activity happening so most of the population was under 18, but there were others who were older. Promise! We decided that while girls prefer Zupas guilty! that pulled pork sandwich just can't be beat the boys seem to choose this place.

So...maybe we'll go back there in the future.

Oh, and I curled my eyelashes for the first time this morning? I felt like a Bionicle Woman with that contraption up against my face. And I thought, "Who in the world came up with the idea, 'I'm going to clamp metal and rubber against my eyelashes, in severely close proximity to my eyeball-the means through which I observe the world around me-because then I'll look pretty.'?" <---- holy monoly, how does the punctuation work right there?

Anyway, curling your eyelashes is a completely ridiculous concept that has some seriously devastating potential outcomes.

I'll probably keep doing it. Because dang, I feel pretty. heh heh heh.

peace and peeling
i'm like a freaking snake over here. disgusting.

rrw