Jan made me watch Why Tu Mama Tambien, which means Throw Mama from the Tambien.

You guys, I'm getting my hair cut tomorrow. I don't think I can tell you just how excited I am because my hair? Out of control. Seriously. It's getting longer and the longer it gets, the more full of itself it gets and it just will not listen to me anymore. I'm all, "lay flat, hair!" and it's like, "no, I want to be wavy and GLOOOOORIOUS!" and I say, "you do not look glorious, you look like Albert Einstein!" and then my hair starts crying. It's awkward. Especially if I'm at work.

I looked in my checkbook to see when the last time I got a haircut was . . . you guys, I haven't gotten my hair cut in over two months. Thus explaining the out-of-controlness. I mean, I kept meaning to get it cut but, go figure, then I'd put it off. Try not to act too surprised.

So. Today is Friday. Did you know that? I bet you didn't. Don't lie to me. I can see right through you. Although, my weekend? It is not going to be what you might call "exciting." Not at all. I have to a) write approximately 800 articles and b) not spend much money. But it's OK because the next couple of weekends are going to be SO. FUN. So fun. I can't even tell you. OK, I will. Next weekend we're going to the Renaissance Festival (hi, it's Ohio, there is nothing else to do here) and my goal this year is to see a Renaissance Festival Wedding because can you imagine what kind of freak show that would be? I'm taking my camera. And then THE NEXT WEEKEND is Spoon on Friday and wedding on Saturday. On the one hand . . . another wedding? Seriously? But on the other hand . . . friends! Alcohol! Dancing! Alcohol! Friends with alcohol! In Cleveland! Fancy hotel! Alcohol! OK, that's enough. After this one, I'm done with weddings for a while. Thank you, baby Jesus.

ALSO. The Office starts in LESS THAN A WEEK. You might say it's sad that I'm this excited for a TV show. You might even say it's unhealthy. But if you do, I might kick you in the babymaker. So think about that before you say anything.

Grab that net and catch that beautiful butterfly, pal! What do you like better, Christmas or Wedding Season?

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.
Heidi: Hmm.
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."
Me: Hahahaha.
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?

the one where jennie talks about her hair (RUN!)

So you know how on Grey's Anatomy (stick with me), all the lady doctors (except Bailey) always have their hair pulled up in a ponytail, only the (only) thing is (is) they always have random strands of hair falling every which way? And I always think, wow, I mean, that looks really cute and all but doesn't seem very effective in, I don't know, KEEPING YOUR HAIR OUT OF YOUR FACE. Which seems to be the general use for a ponytail. How stupid, I thought, stupid stupid Meredith Grey, get your hair out of your face!

And then I realized that whenever I tried to pull all my hair into a ponytail, I always have weird bang-like hairs that won't fit into it. So I had to use a barrette to hold them back. Which is annoying! So I tried just the whole pulling-my-hair-back-without-looking-and-letting-whatever-hair-doesn't-fit-in-the-ponytail-just-fall-to-the-side thing and VOILA! it looks better and I don't have to use a barrette. Oh my god, that was a lot of hyphens. I think I used up my year's supply. Shit. Anyway. The end.

Ha, just kidding. You wish. Suckers. The reason I need to put my hair in a ponytail at work is because my hair really, really needs cut and I'm not getting it done until Saturday and it's DRIVING ME CRAZY so I need it out of my face or I will scream and they don't like it when I randomly scream at work for no reason. If I have a reason, fine, I can scream all I want, but no reason? Not cool. You're fired, I so swear. I scream really loud, you have no idea. Anyway, so I put my hair up. Someone told me I looked like a 12-year-old (thanks?) but the look I was really going for was naughty librarian. Maybe that would work better if I put my glasses on. I'll keep you guys updated. Heh.

I went home on my lunch break and when I got in my car to come back to work, Alanis was shrieking "You Oughtta Know" and I couldn't let her shriek alone, now could I? So I started shrieking, too, until I noticed that one of our neighbors was walking through the parking lot at that very moment and, oh, also my window was down. Whatever. We've been living there for over a year so if people don't know what a freak I am by now, that's their problem. The thing is, I don't even really like that song that much. The thing I like most about it is that it's about Uncle Joey. I mean . . . seriously? Uncle Joey? Really? OK, Alanis. You want to borrow my glasses, maybe?

I have nothing else to talk about. It's come to this. Ponytails and Uncle Joey. Sad, sad day. You should maybe look one entry below and just watch the warm, fuzzy music video. I feel like I'm talking like Zoidberg. Am I talking like Zoidberg? Robutts!

Anyway, bye.

You seem a little irritable, Kyle. You got some sand in your vagina?

For some reason I woke up at 8:30 this morning. ON A SATURDAY. That is so not right and really unlike me. Of course, it could have something to do with the fact that I went to bed before midnight last night. That is so not right and also, again, really unlike me. I blame the cold medicine. The cold medicine is being blamed for a lot. Unusual sleeping patterns, long rants that go nowhere, hitting that old man with my car. Really, none of it is my fault.

Remember that one time I went to Chicago for New Year's Eve? Well, we're doing it again, only this time Mary lives in the city so who knows what will happen.

I'm killing time now before I go get my hair cut. Usually this is a painful process, but this time I am prepared. A couple nights ago I went over to my parents' house with a bunch of different hair style pictures so my mom could help me pick one. Because this is the kind of decision I am incapable of making for myself and left to my own devices I wait until I am in the salon and pick the first picture that appeals to me. That is not a decision that should be made so hastily. My dad asked why I was getting my hair cut when I had already decided to let it grow and I had to SIGH try and explain the crazy girl hair rules that you need to cut your hair to make it grow faster and then my mom told me not to waste my time because HELLO Dad doesn't have any hair. Which seemed a little harsh to me, but they've been married for 26 (right?) years so they must be doing something right. Anyway. What was I talking about? Oh, right, my hair.

Screw it, it's not important. After I get my hair cut I'm going over to my grandma's to celebrate Christmas with my dad's side of the family. I kind of hope everyone left the board games at home this year*, last year things got a little out of hand.

*No, I don't. BRING IT.

meow

Out of all my coworkers, I am the youngest. I am also the only one who is not married and has never been married. I am ALSO the only one without any children. Today, one of my coworkers stroked my head and told me I have very shiny hair.

Sometimes I worry that my coworkers think of me as some kind of pet.