This does not bode well for my future--if you only look as far into my future as tomorrow. (Today. It's two thirty in the morning.)
I have to get up early to go get my nails done (Yeah? What of it?) and to purchase supplies for the "Hooray We're Unemployed" party we are hosting tomorrow night before I go to my LAST DAY AT WORK.
Glee really isn't the word for it.
Anyway, I am tired. Probably because I have a new blog obsession and just spent the last 3 hours reading the archives therein.
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I am cutting my hair this weekend. No, I don't know what specific haircut I will be getting. I'm walking into an appointment in an overpriced Downtown Metropolis salon and entrusting my mane to a nice woman named Emily, who hopefully isn't stricken with hooves for hands or no depth perception or something, and saying, "My hair is naturally wavy/curlyish, I have cowlicks here and here, I straighten it daily and don't want something that is going to be a bitch to grow out. GO!". Hopefully she is up to the challenge.
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Being that I assume most of my readership has ears, I would like to think that most of you have noticed the addition of a music player on this blog. One person has commented, and I know her in RL and we have similar tastes in music and she loves it....and, being that the majority rules, I think everyone does. So there. But you may have noticed a spread of some vastness--Bob Seger to In Flames? Who the hell is VNV Nation? Why, in Gods name, does she have a Timbaland song on there?
Because I like it. So there. My blog, my playlist, my music. Actually, I have toned it down quite a bit on here.
Oh, and FYI--Turn the Page is probably one of the greatest songs ever written. Stick that in your pipe and smoke it.
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Lastly, I stole this from C, who refuses to send me the rest of the pics from her trip out here until I send the pics from her trip out here last year. C is brilliant, but obviously doesn't know how deep my kleptomania runs when it comes to hilarious photos.
This is about the 12th trip to the grocery store while C was here. She is over caffeinated, and T is, well, a boy. Therefore, they "fly" through the aisles at 2am.
(C, I love you. Please don't be mad.)
Also, just to spread the love around, a pic of T in Vegas looking slightly bewildered and like he has a very large body or a very small head.
Again, I love you, and please don't be mad. :)
