You guys remember how I got my hair cut on Saturday? Well, I got my hair cut on Saturday. And I kind of sort of liked it until I took a shower and tried to fix it myself. All was going well . . . the washing, the conditioning, the towel-drying. But then I got to the blow-drying and the brushing and whatnot and I just stared at my assortment of hair-doing tools in befuddlement (aside: Heather Anne, I think "befuddlement" should be added to the list of words we should say more). And the hairdryer, the round brush, and the flatiron just stared back all, "what, you think WE know what to do?" They were no help whatsoever! What I'm trying to say is, this morning was the first day I actually got my hair to look somewhat like what it looked like on Saturday when I left the salon. Which is good, because I was getting really really close to just shaving it all off. I suck at being a girl. SIGH.
Also, you know how it's wedding season? Well, it's wedding season. And while I will not be doing any wedding crashing (unless someone else is up for it, maybe?), I do have two weddings to go to next month. I found this 28-day workout online the other day and then realized that conveniently, I had exactly 29 days until the first wedding. I did the math and I think I have time. So all week long I have been eating super nutritiously (is that a word?) and working out every day and, Internets, my legs hurt ever so much today. Ow, for real. The worst part is that I made banana bread over the weekend and even though my tummy tried to tell me that it was totally healthy because it has fruit in it, my brain said NO! PUT IT DOWN! Every time I start to feel weak and like I want to eat 100 million pounds of chips and salsa, I pull the dress I'm wearing to the first wedding out of my closet and stare at it and think about how awful it would be to have to wear a burlap sack or garbage bag or something because I can't fit into the dress anymore. STUPID WEDDINGS! ALWAYS WITH THE MAKING ME FEEL BAD ABOUT MYSELF! Unmarried, childless, 300 pounds, and SHORT. SHORT! Just kidding, I don't really care about the first two things and I am aware that I don't really weigh 300 pounds and the short thing . . . eh, I've gotten used to climbing on counters for things on the top shelf.
Oh, you guys, Heidi and I had the BEST EVER Conversations With My Roommate last night. I feel like I should give you some kind of warning for this, but I don't know how. Oh well . . .
Me [reading sign in front of a church]: Jesus is right for whatever is wrong.
Me: Anything? What about unplanned pregnancy?
Heidi: What about butt sex?
Me: Hahaha. This is total Conversations With My Roommate material.
Heidi: That's for sure.
Me: And you won't sound like Kimmie Gibbler's boyfriend this time.
Heidi: No. I don't think he ever talked about butt sex.
Me: Yeah, I don't think Full House ever had a Very Special Episode about butt sex.
Heidi: They should have, though.
Me: Totally. DJ would have gone to Danny and been all, "Dad, Steve really wants me to have butt sex."
Heidi: And Danny would be like, "Well, Deej, as long as you use some Spic & Span to clean up afterward."
Heidi: And then the special music would start.
Me: The tinkly piano.
Heidi: Right, the very special butt sex episode music.
Me: I cannot believe we just had a conversation that included Jesus, Full House, and butt sex.
Heidi: It happens.
Don't say I didn't warn you. Oh wait, I didn't. In any case, I think I'm going to start tape recording Heidi and I at all times because I can never remember all of the inappropriateness. And really, conversations about butt sex deserve to be remembered properly, don't you think?