My Trip to the Salon: Part 1

I polled the masses and the verdict was unanimous. Simple, Layered Cut (style #2) was the favorite over Messy Punk Rocker (style #3) both here and on facebook. But like any good politician, I disregarded the voice of the people and in the end did what I thought best. I do, after all, have a better grasp on what this country needs.

So, without further ado, I present my BEFORE picture:


And now my AFTER pictures:



I apologize. It was late. I had no make up. I couldn't take a good self portrait to save my life. (But it turns out these photos have nominated me for the Nobel Price in Photography...sorry, that was bad. I shouldn't have).

Anyway, eventually I'll post good photos of the hair and you can see that it is okay...I'm not sure it's totally there yet, but I like it enough to be happy! And shout out to Kirsti and Ashley for recommending A Day Away Salon and Spa.

Tune in tomorrow to hear about my experience and a quasi-celebrity comparison that is about to throw me in to a writing tantrum. Consider yourself warned.

Why I Will Never Read Walden

In the land of purple mountains and bra-less hippies, there visited a city girl who volunteered to be Lead Paddler on a white water rafting trip down the Arkansas River. That city girl was me. . .

Our raft guide had already selected an ex-marine, Skip, to be one of the Lead Paddlers. She needed only one more. When neither Skip's wife nor his mentally handicapped daughter nor my friend Stephanie (who loves nature things) nor my friend Erin (a Colorado native) volunteered, I tentatively raised my hand. How bad could it be? Just yell "Rock!" every time you see a rock and you're good to go.

"Alright!" Erica, our super hippie guide (yes, she had dreadlocks...we were unsure about leg hair) sang out in her totally melodic, airy, sing-songy voice. "Amanda's our other Lead Paddler!"

"Why did you do that?!" Erin chastised me.

"Are you crazy?" Stephanie exclaimed.

"No one else volunteered," I said. "I felt sorry for her."

"You shouldn't have done that."

Come to find out, the Lead Paddler has to set the pace for the entire team. It's up to them to ensure no one dies, but they're also the first to topple out if things to awry. They have to be the strongest, the best, the most attentive. Ex-marine Skip was a natural choice. Me? Not so much.

I spent the next three hours trying not to get our team killed, trying to prevent the mentally retarded person from doing a sommersault into the water, trying to hear Erica's sing-songy instructions over the roar of the whirlpools, and trying to keep up with Skip's over-compensated, super ex-marine strokes that had us turning too far to the left or the right every time WITHOUT FAIL.

All of that, I could put up with. No problem. For once in my life, I enjoyed being in nature and was loving the great outdoors. I didn't mind the fact that Skip was too deaf to hear the "STOP!" command and sent us spinning or that Erin was being beaten over the head by the "disabled" girls's paddle.

Until....the bugs.

They were everywhere. In swarms of millions upon millions. And I, like any good girl, had applied a layer of sunscreen right before boarding. After passing through a particularly bug-infested area, I turned back to Stephanie to say something when she burst out laughing, pointing at my face. Erin laughed too. Even Skip. EVEN HIPPIE ERICA CHUCKLED A BIT.

From what I was told (and, judging by the level of laughter I created), my face was a gnat graveyard. There had to be at least twenty to thirty little guys splattered on my skin, stuck to the sunscreen. I spent the rest of the trip, turning to Stephanie, asking whether nature was on me and wishing I hadn't volunteered to be Lead Paddler.

I was reminded of this incident today, after coming in from my run. I truly don't like nature.

Vote for Your Favorite Do!

First things first, it's endless shrimp time at Red Lobster! I literally wait in salivated anticipation for this event and it's finally here! Now, to save up the cash and train my stomach...

P.s. it seems as though they've removed the shrimp pasta as an endless shrimp selection...boo. Also, it appears they've done away with your choice of side...also boo.

Now, for what you've all been waiting for. . .

I'm going to get a haircut! Yay! I'm thinking of something like this (mostly because the lady's hair reminds me of my own puffball):




Or maybe something like this:



I'm leaning toward the second one for obvious reasons, but what do you all think? Suggestions? Ideas? I'm too poor to get it colored, so any highlighting/lowlighting ideas area no-go, and I'd like for it to brush my shoulders (as my one experience with jawline short hair was so bad even the Mexicans at Logan's stopped whistling at me).

So these are my ideas....anyone got ideas? Input?

Don't I feel salty...

Do you see it?


How about there?


OR THERE?

I have a sweat issue. Thankfully, today was cool, dry-pitt weather. Unthankfully, I forgot that the last time I wore this pink shirt, it had been in the 90's and I was stuck in a stuffy conference room for hours on end.

Unthankfully, I forgot about the subsequent salt ring on my shirt.

Unthankfully, I saw the ring while in the bathroom at work, AFTER I had completed a meeting with a client and AFTER I had put more than half the day behind me.

How many times had I raised my arms in public that day? How often had I placed my hands on my hips? How frequently had I reached for something in front of someone else? HOW OFTEN HAD I MORTIFIED EVERYONE WITHIN TWENTY FEET OF MY SALT RINGS??

Icy, then Hot.

I have whiplash.

To celebrate, Tad offered to apply IcyHot to the sore muscles. Never having a reason to try the substance, I eagerly accepted.

It felt just as I thought it would. Icy, then hot.

My favorite part, however, was and is the way it smells. Think delicous spearmint bubblegum candy. Or, more specifically, think spearmint breathmint lifesavers only less like hard candy and more like gummy, gell-like heaven.

It smelled so good and felt so IcyHot, I had to touch it.

So I did.

Then, I smelled my hand.

Mmmmm.

Put my fingers near my tongue.

Lick. . . . lick, lick . . . .lick.

Tad's eyes popped out of his head. "Don't eat it! Your tongue will go IcyHot!"

"Uh oh. Too late."

"No!"

"My tongue AND lips are IcyHot!"

"I hope it's not toxic." He grabbed the box. "External use only."

"If there's no directions on how to flush it out, then it can't hurt me," I reasoned, silently.

"Told you not to eat it," he said.

"Sorry."

Moments later, while my lips were numb and my tongue swollen, my eye itched.

I raised my hand.

"No!" Tad yelled.

But it was too late. My eyeball had become IcyHot as well.

Found: Biore Pore Unclogging Scrub

After a long, excruciating work-out when city water is beating down upon your salt-crusted skin and your pores scream for cleansing, do not....I repeat....do not reach for Biore's Pore Unclogging Scrub. It smells like vomit.
One of my girlfriends left this unsuspecting stink bug in my shower after my bachelorette party. So, I tried it (wouldn't you?). The smell made me tear up.

Today, I tried it again, thinking that perhaps I had been imagining the wretched stench. This time I actually cried.

Would the owner of this tube of torture please step forward and reclaim your possession? Please? Before I think that I was imagining things again and land myself in some sort of institution with padded walls and a profile that reads "Inconsolable hysteria"?

Though I'm beginning to think it was left behind on purpose.