Sunday, February 1, 2009

Men, Women, and TV

I sit here before you...(or not before you, as the case luckily may be, because I'm looking a straight up MESS but...y'know what I mean)

In a very poor mood.

Why you might ask?

Because, see, as I am not working anymore, I have certain shows that I watch. One of them being the brain food known as:

Rock of Love.

Oh, how I totally LOVE that show. I know, it's terrible, horrible and I should be ashamed, but it is SO my guilty pleasure. Then, at school, we will all stand around and talk about it like we know these people personally.

It's completely fabulous.


Tonight is HELLISH. Why, you might ask?

Let me explain:

My fiance is NORMALLY off on Sunday evenings, or finds some way TO be off. The only reason that I can guess that he does this is so that he can sit there and repeat "This is stupid" over and over again the ENTIRE time Rock of Love is on.

I know it's stupid.

But that doesn't mean that I don't love it. (Kinda like MEN, if ya think about it. ;-) )

Anyways...tonight, he is being forced to stay at work. On a Sunday. Night. When Rock of Love NORMALLY comes on.

Which is just a TREAT...because ALL DAY LONG I have been just RELISHING the fact that I will get to watch the ENTIRE show (and perhaps Tool Academy *giggles*) WITHOUT having to hear:

"Oh, God."

"Give me a break."

"This is STUPID."


Or just an annoying "Oh my GOD, I cannot believe that I am being forced to watch such stupidity."


And what happens??

It's not even FREAKIN' ON!!!


Who the hell KNOWS!!

I am tempted to type up a strongly worded e-mail to Vh1 about how they have ruined my entire evening, but I totally have the feeling that:

1) No one really cares.


2) By the time it is read, I will have already seen the next three episodes of the show.


But while I am on the subject:

What is it exactly that makes Rock of Love a DUMB show...

And COPS a SMART one?

*raises eyebrow*

I would really like to know the answer to this.

Night after night, I am subjected to various episodes of COPS. I have been forced to watch this show for nearly four years. I feel that I have seen SO many episodes of this show that I am now completely capable of actually being a cop.

Or at least give it a good try.

Whenever we watch TV together, there never is an option of what we watch. It automatically goes to TRUtv...and I am convinced that the only show that comes on that channel is COPS, because it really seems that everytime we turn it to that channel, no matter what time of day...I am confronted with the "Bad Boys" song. It's like...a new episode AUTOMATICALLY comes on when we switch it to that channel.

Weird, huh?

I am starting to think he is in cohorts with the powers that be at that channel.

And while we are on the subject of men and TV, I have a question that is BEGGING to be answered:

Why the hell do men insist on flipping channels instead of simply looking at the TVGuide channel?

It is there for a reason.

And that reason is so that men quit driving women crazy flipping channels.

I have seen 5 minutes of every show on television, and I would like for this to stop.

Tuesday, January 27, 2009

The Art of Decoding Words


In my nearly a year's worth of experience in the "cosmetology" world...I have learned quite a few things. Gained many different perspectives.


It's a great word, really. But when someone says it's towards you, it's never something you want to hear.

It's one of those totally awesome code words, y'know?

Code for:

"What the HELL are you freakin' THINKING? Have you been sniffin' to many perms?! Are the chemicals leaking through to your brain?!"

Yesterday, I stopped into the beauty store to pick up some hair color.


For MY hair. ;-) Since I am bleached out COMPLETELY blonde now, I think it looks quite awesome, if I do say so myself.


Various places throughout my head.

In SMALL pieces.

Let's keep that in mind.

While I was picking up this color, I ran into a very good friend of mine from school, who is just a wee bit ditzy. Kinda like me...but perhaps a little more so.


We chatted for a few minutes and she asked what I was getting and I told her:


She just nodded and smiled.

I left and went on about my business...and fast forward to school today:

She: "Are you going to put that color in your hair that you bought yesterday?"

Me: "Yeah...tomorrow."

She: (pause)Well...that will be interesting." (this was said a little TOO brightly)

We just sort of sat there in silence for a few minutes. It was a little bit awkward, and I couldn't quite figure out why.

I looked around for a minute. She was still looking at me.

Crickets chirped.

And then...

It hit me.

Me: "Uh...I'm not putting it over my entire head."

She: "OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH...ok...that's better...I was wonderin' about that!"


Can you IMAGINE what she was thinking?! I mean we are talking PINK. Not baby pink. Not even Barbie pink.

HOT pink.

And hot MESS pink if it were to be an all-over hair color.

*raises eyebrow*

I would look like a Troll doll gone horribly wrong.

I guess I have to fully explain myself next time?

To be honest, I do so much with my hair, people probably never know what to expect. Someone I used to work with told me that every time he saw me my hair looked different.

However...point being:

Cosmetologists are very gentle with one another. Sort-of. We have ways to let each other know that we've maybe gone one step too far without ACTUALLY saying it.

Like when a girl was bleaching out one strip of her auburn hair to add bright red.

And another girl thought she was going to leave a random blonde streak in it.


Of course.

Actually it was:

"That will probably look good..." with a questionable look on her face like "Good Lord, I HOPE it looks good so I don't have to lie to this chick's face."

And, it does, of always does. come other stylists don't have confidence in their own kind? ;-D

Sunday, January 25, 2009

It Wasn't Me...WAS IT?!

So, as I sit here on this dreary Sunday morning, I was looking through the news.

And that’s when I saw it:

“COPS: Woman shoots boyfriend for not letting her sleep.”

And I was a-feered.

I mean, I was sleeping pretty deeply when I was FINALLY allowed sleep last night. I don’t really remember dreaming…could it possibly be?

Was it…

I mean, it sounds like me. How creepy is that. MY boyfriend wouldn’t let me sleep last night. And as I read the article, it was a total “OMG” moment:

Anding told police that she shot her boyfriend, “because he was bothering her and wouldn’t let her sleep,” according to a police report.

And, while common sense says:

“Hey, who the hell is ANDING, that’s SO not you.”

I don’t completely trust that I couldn’t have some sort of weird alter-ego. I mean, I’d hope I would be smart enough to use my other personality if I felt the need to, in fact, get rid of my boyfriend.

And to be completely honest…I felt the need last night.

So…I gave him a little call just to be sure that he was still, y’know…


And he was.

But I *totally* feel this woman’s pain. The only difference between she and I last night was that she was in reaching distance to a shotgun.

And my father locks his away.

I kid, of course, I would never shoot someone. BUT, on the other hand, someone should never bother a woman when all she requests is sleep.

I sleep when I am stressed, and last night was testing the limits of my stress-ability.

“Please just let me lay down for THIRTY MINUTES and allow me time to de-stress.”

Each and every time, I would have JUST ENOUGH time to lay my head down on the pillow before my phone would commence to ringing, and more stress-age would ensue.

And the yelling, and the screaming would begin…


40 missed calls, 6 text messages, and 2 voicemails later…

I decided to give up, pick up the phone, and brave the stress-age.

Thank GOD for that little bit of humor that he makes sure is put in every situation (for without which, I just *might* pick the lock on the gun cabinet):

Me: “Why are you so freakin’ MAD at me?”

Him: “I’m not MAD, I’m just PISSED OFF!”

Me: “That’s WORSE!”

Him: “No…it’s not…”

Me: “At the very least they mean the same thing…”

Him: “No…they are completely different.”

Me: “Maybe you mean you are disappointed?”

Him: “Disappointed…pissed off…same thing.”

*insert sharply raised eyebrow right here*

And as MAD as I was…not pissed off, obviously as that means something COMPLETELY different…

I laughed. Inwardly. Very inwardly. EXTREMELY inwardly. So inwardly, in fact, I felt as if my brain was going to shoot out of my ears.

After all, I didn’t want to disappoint him again.


However, I said all of this to make my point:

Men…if your woman wants to sleep…by all means, let her SLEEP. Unless you want the police to find YOU sitting in your car with a shot up leg.

Which, of course, brings all sorts of questions to mind that I won’t delve into right now…

Such as:

“Why the hell did he just sit there, in his car, with a shot-up leg?”

…and that, my friends, is the food for thought that I will leave you with today.