This weekend was the first long stint of being alone I’ve
had in quite some time. Was it relaxing? Not in the least.
I spent most of Saturday hanging out with two of my favorite
Chihuahua clients. We watched Lifetime movies and ate goldfish crackers. Well,
I ate the crackers, I don’t share.
I don’t have cable at my house, and have never really wanted
it. Especially after my old roommate would get high as a kite and watch marathons for hours but never pay her half of the cable bill. Anywayyyys. I watched some terrible movie about a woman whose boyfriend beat her up and
gave her amnesia and then lied to her about the two being engaged so he could
get her fortune. I know, you’re already hooked right?
Afterwards a local photographer friend came over to try out
some new (expired) Polaroid film he had purchased and to get some old Polaroid
cameras I was giving to him. We took a few digital shots as back up as well.
I'd show you some of the film shots but I showed more skin than I'm about to show on this blog. At least for now. Nothing wrong with a little peek-a-cheek.
Oh - and he gave me a book he put a few of my photos in. I love helping out local artists. It makes the 3rd book I've been in within the past year.
I haven’t been sleeping very well since Kh went out of town.
I had a couple of glasses of wine, took the dogs out for potty time before bed,
and was so looking forward to passing the hell out Saturday night. Do you think it went down
that way? Of courseeee not.
I go to put on my pajamas and finally go to bed when what do
I see? A big old pee spot right in the middle of Kh’s pillow. Now I know I
didn’t crawl up on that bed, drop my pants and piss on it. I know Kh didn’t pee
on it before she left. For one, it was real fresh, and for two she’s just not
that kind of girl. Aweeesomeee. At least it didn't get on the bed. I would have been real mad.
Sunday I was just so damn exhausted I tried to do as little
as possible. I had a few clients I had to see, and couldn’t drag myself away
from pixel people. I’m obsessed. I get off the internet to go to bed, and then
play on the internet on my phone in bed. For a couple of hours.
Tonight I did what I absolutely hate more than anything, household chores. It was mostly to stop myself from falling asleep on the couch at 6:30pm. When I went into the bedroom to fold some laundry, I found a present from one of my dogs. A nice pile of puke. Right on top of my clean towels. Have I said aweeesomeee yet in this post? Cause that's what it was.
Next weekend you’ll hear all about how drunk I got. That’s for damn
sure.
My day. Was. Rough. I got started before 10am, and didn’t
actually sit down (other than in my car driving like a mad woman) until after
7pm. My client list for the day quite literally doubled overnight. While it’s
stressful the day of, afterwards I feel really great and exhilarated how well I’m
doing almost completely on my own.
At my last stop of the night, I told Kh I’d pick her up from
the subway (or T if you’re a Boston local). I was about 10minutes away from her
and asked if she’d mind grabbing me a bubbly water (aka seltzer, carbonated,
amazingness). And maybe a sweet treat.
I’m not a big sweets eater, but (sorry to go there) I got my
period raging bad last night and all I wanted was something chocolatey, a
bottle of advil, a hot water bottle, and my pajamas.
I pull up to where I’m supposed to meet Kh. There she is,
standing in the rain holding a bag. She gets in the car and I suspiciously eye
the logo on the side of the bag.
Do you know what that mother-licker got me? A fucking oreo
ice cream cake from JP Licks aka my favorite oreo ice cream making place ever.
Holy shit do I love her. I came home, put on my pajamas, and
ate a piece of it. Before dinner. I didn’t even care, and it was so good I
pretty much died a little.
That was my Tuesday, and shit did it ever end on a good
note.
I wish I had one of those weekends full of crazy adventures
and tomfoolery. But, I didn’t.
Let’s start my recap with Valentines Day, since I’m such a
grump-puss about the whole holiday.
I had an excruciatingly long day at work, but Kh was able to
surprise me with flowers, a box of chocolates (for myself, kh and our friend to
share), and other little trinkets that were just perfect. For me at least.
She got me a bat shit crazy card (the inside was the cutest
thing ever), a porcupine quill necklace, and a nylon ring that is coated in spf
so when I start tanning (not on purpose mind you, I don't do that shit) I’ll have tan lines that shape. Cute.
That night Kh, our friend, and myself went out to eat at
what’s becoming our favorite walk-to-so-we-can-get-drunk place. 3 glasses of
wine, and enough food to make me pop made the walk home pretty difficult.
Friday was another exceptionally long day for me. I don’t
know what it was but last week really kicked my ass and then some. I got home
and took the longest shower ever. Right in the middle of our “what do you want
for dinner?” discussion (that can usually last an hour if not more) I got a
text from a friend who was getting dinner at a Italian place that’s right down
the street from my house. We gave in and went.
The place itself is just what you think of if I were to say
“That local family owned Italian restaurant with a lot of shit on the walls.”
I had a salad and mozzarella sticks. And by the time I got
home I was writing out my will and quite sure I was dying. My toilet became my
best friend, and I’ll just leave that up to your imagination to fill in the
blanks. I should have known better when I saw the fruit flies swarming around
our table.
Saturday I was able to pump
enough life into my veins to dye my hair and the extensions. I might have
made a mess. To dye the extensions I just placed them on a piece of aluminum
foil and painted the color on. Making sure to work it in realll gooood.
Who doesn't love a behind the scenes look at someone making a complete mess of themselves while dying their hair?
Sunday? It mother-truckin snowed
again. I know it’s New England, but can’t a girl get a break? I’m ready to
retire these winter boots already.
The only thing really productive
that happened on Sunday was getting my hair cut and my extensions put in. Hair
surgery!
Left - first glass of wine. Right - my third.
In total it took close to 3
hours. We ended around 11:30pm, and my poor friend had to be up by 3am to catch
a 5:30 flight. Even if he was half asleep, my hair came out just how I wanted
it. He filled in the front with about 20 pieces per side to start making the
shape of a bob.
I know it's not the craziest of differences. It's about 2 1/2inches longer on each side of my face. Which is just what I needed to not drive myself crazy while growing out this mop of mine.
I'm sure I'll post more photos in the following week. It's the first time in a long ass time I like how my hair looks. So that says something.
I’ve decided on Sundays I’m going to try and write about
something going on in my personal life that’s making me feel guilty, or just
something I need to get off my conscious. Or just random bull from my life in general.
Just recently I blocked my very first user on instagram.
I’ve had instagram for a long ass time now, and for me to just now be blocking someone;
you know it must be serious.
I do contracting work for a local-ish company. With this come
a lot of consultations, meet and greets, schmoozing. This past Monday we had a
client consult at my house for an overnight boarding request. This is the first
time the owner of the company I contract for was at my house. It weirded me out
a little, but a lot of things weird me out. Like peanut butter and jelly in the same container, or belly shirts.
What tipped the line of weird-stephanie out? The second she
walked in the door she introduced herself to Kh and said she “practically knows
her from all my posts on instagram.” Then she tripped up and even said that I
was a “post-a-thon-er.”
Eh, what? Kh instantly turned red, and I played it off like
“yeah sure, I’M the insta-crazy here.”
Over the next week I couldn’t stop thinking about how she pretty
much said she stalked me on instagram. I don’t know her at all, and what I do know of her, I'm not overly fond of. So after getting over
my guilt for not wanting her in my business, and getting the "it's ok" talk from my friends, I googled how to block someone on
instagram.
I know it seems a little weird, since I have plenty of
people I don’t know following me on instagram. But there’s a fine difference
between people you don’t know and could potentially get to know, and someone
that’s in your life that you completely don’t know, and possibly don’t want to
know. There’s also that unwritten rule about never revealing you stalk someone
online. My grandma breaks this one often.
“I saw those pictures your friend N posted on facebook,
where was she? Who is that guy she’s with? Is that her cat? Did she buy new boots?”
Gram, shhhhh.
Am I crazy for doing this? Maybe. I still feel a little
guilty about it, but since then I’ve made my profile private and I’m on
lockdown. I know the internet and any public forum is fair game, but blocking
features exist so why not use them?
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There you have it. The history of my hair in pictorial form starting
with little high school me. Yeah I was in a tube top bra and stockings. Didn’t
everyone hang out in their bathroom like that? Then we move on to college me, first move to Boston me, Philadelphia and Portland me, Salem me, and this past Summer me.
A couple of photos show my natural hair color.
Gosh do I miss my angled bob..
I’ve made the decision recently to grow my hair out. I’m
quite sure once I get the long hair I’m aiming for, I’ll hate it and want to
cut it all off again. I’m ready for a bit of change, even if it means being a
hair-hating grouchy pants until I get it.
My good friend, who happens to be my hair stylist (and has
been doing my hair on and off since I was 19) stays at my house every 6 weeks
when he comes up from Florida to do clients at the old salon I used to work at.
This works out smashingly for me, as I get salon quality cuts in my kitchen.
(So does Kh.)
This time around he brought up some extensions that we’re
going to color match to my hair and throw in to frame my face. Yes, and yes!
And don’t be fooled, by color match I simply mean we’re dying it the same
box-color I dye my own hair. Box color’s pretty bad for your hair, but ain’t
nobody got time to go to the salon! (By time I mean money). I’m even more excited by the fact I
don’t need to go back to the salon I used to work at to get it done.
Yeahhhhh-whoooo!
My hairs going to go through several stages. All of which
I’m going to hate immensely.
Right now I’m at the helmet head stage. My hair grows out in a thick bulky mess
and then starts to lengthen. My head looks about 2x bigger with all this hair
just hanging out on the top of it.
I won’t scare you away with photos of that look, but
tomorrow I’ll have a new cut and some fine ass extensions to be whipping
around.
