I believe I have nine days before I head out for good ol' New York (Manhattan, Upper East Side... ? This has me feeling like I'm in the fuckin' Great Gatsby or some shit... where I'd go looking for Daisy to kick her fucking ass. Sorry, that story has a special place in my heart).
My sister and Pacemaker are stoked (oh yeah, Pacemaker's meeting us out there. It was strange how that worked out. She's getting a free birthday dinner from us. I know, I know, I complain SO much about the kid and here I am rewarding her... but what can I say? No matter how wrong you do me, if you've managed to weasel your way into my heart, you'll stay there forever. It's a trait I can't kill... hence why I take a minute to warm up to people... I'm in deep shit once I accept a person), me? Eh. My excitement wavers.
Yes, I love traveling and discovering new places. That's AWESOME and it completes my life.
But then there are those awesome arguments I have with my sister in regards to bar-hopping (yup, still having them. I've tried compromising by promising to get hammered on Friday, because all the shit we consume during "Happy Hour" will be free. I agreed I'd take advantage of it... to the fullest, but she's still set on drinking every. single. night. It's beyond frustrating, so I try no to think about it or else I get violent).
There's also the overwhelming sensation of... incompetence when it comes to planning. It leaves me frazzled, because these two girls (Pacemaker and my sis) are leaving all of the planning to me. You can't make me do that! I'M INDECISIVE!
I also have to go shopping.
I have clothes... but most of it is a hand-me-down from Sister, since she's dropping weight like a high school wrestler.
Sister and I have two completely different styles (though she rummages through my closet for my shoes and she often asks me to help her build her outfits. Stylists ain't got shit on me, even if MY attire consists of the same fucking jeans, white Vans slip-ons, and solid-colored V-neck. Really, can that EVER be considered bad? It's a laid-back, I-don't-give-a-shit-what-you-think-but-PLEASE-don't-pay-attention-to-me outfit. It's perfect. Well... there ARE days when I wear my quirky stuff... but that's for when I'm happy), so I tend to wear what she gives me only when I'm in a real jam for outfits. Nothing against her style... I just feel like... I don't belong in that sort of clothes (I've always sworn I'd never wear pre-torn jeans... because I make fun of them. I find BUYING torn jeans counterintuitive: leave the tearing up to me. My massive thighs take care of that shit REAL QUICK. I also fall down and eat shit almost as often as a fawn learning how to walk for the first time. I acquire rips in jeans EFFORTLESSLY. But now I'm the owner of a pair, since Sister handed me some of her jeans. The pants are cute... but each time I look at myself in the jeans, I want to slap myself for being such a hypocrite).
So, as much as I hate the process, shopping I must do.
Then I have the last dilemma: my hair.
I've been measuring my hair for months. I know I said I was going to cut it around the first-second week of April, but it wasn't quite long enough.
Ideally, I want to donate 18-inches. Back in April, my hair was still around 16 inches long (what I was OK with cutting, that is) .The perfectionist, stubborn ox in me just didn't let me cut it until I reached the proper inches.
Well, I measured my hair last night, and I clear the 18 inch mark.
I'm left with this: Do I cut it now, and head out to New York/Princeton with the new short do I'll still be trying to master... or do I wait until I come back home in order to chop my hair?
Both styles are a pain to handle. The long hair gets on my nerves because I'm constantly washing it and it takes FOREVER to dry. That shit is pretty high-meintenance. However, if I'm ever in a hurry, I can just pick it up in a ponytail and call it a day.
The short do is a breeze in the sense that it takes a second to wash and dry. However, it's a MUST when it comes to properly taking a straightening iron to it. If I don't straighten my short hair, I look like a bum. My nappy hair doesn't cooperate. And then there's also the most worrying aspect of the cut: what if my hair looks like shit? I don't have enough time to correct it. I'll be looking like a moron--YET AGAIN-- in the photos of my bro's various graduations (high school graduation? I looked like a whore-ish moron. Bro's Basic graduation? Looked like a scared moron. Bro's Advanced Training graduation? Looked like an angry, stressed--AP exams were two weeks away-- moron. Bro's Notre Dame graduation? Looked like a frustrated moron. Princeton graduation? Possible pumpkin-pie-hair-cutted-freak Moron [favorite "Dumb&Dumber" reference right there]? Oh man).
I got some problems to solve now.
P.S. and totally off-topic: I lifted semi-heavy last night... Jesus Christ, I had missed that SO bad! I woke up feeling freakishly invigorated. Hooray for strong girls!
My sister and Pacemaker are stoked (oh yeah, Pacemaker's meeting us out there. It was strange how that worked out. She's getting a free birthday dinner from us. I know, I know, I complain SO much about the kid and here I am rewarding her... but what can I say? No matter how wrong you do me, if you've managed to weasel your way into my heart, you'll stay there forever. It's a trait I can't kill... hence why I take a minute to warm up to people... I'm in deep shit once I accept a person), me? Eh. My excitement wavers.
Yes, I love traveling and discovering new places. That's AWESOME and it completes my life.
But then there are those awesome arguments I have with my sister in regards to bar-hopping (yup, still having them. I've tried compromising by promising to get hammered on Friday, because all the shit we consume during "Happy Hour" will be free. I agreed I'd take advantage of it... to the fullest, but she's still set on drinking every. single. night. It's beyond frustrating, so I try no to think about it or else I get violent).
There's also the overwhelming sensation of... incompetence when it comes to planning. It leaves me frazzled, because these two girls (Pacemaker and my sis) are leaving all of the planning to me. You can't make me do that! I'M INDECISIVE!
I also have to go shopping.
I have clothes... but most of it is a hand-me-down from Sister, since she's dropping weight like a high school wrestler.
Sister and I have two completely different styles (though she rummages through my closet for my shoes and she often asks me to help her build her outfits. Stylists ain't got shit on me, even if MY attire consists of the same fucking jeans, white Vans slip-ons, and solid-colored V-neck. Really, can that EVER be considered bad? It's a laid-back, I-don't-give-a-shit-what-you-think-but-PLEASE-don't-pay-attention-to-me outfit. It's perfect. Well... there ARE days when I wear my quirky stuff... but that's for when I'm happy), so I tend to wear what she gives me only when I'm in a real jam for outfits. Nothing against her style... I just feel like... I don't belong in that sort of clothes (I've always sworn I'd never wear pre-torn jeans... because I make fun of them. I find BUYING torn jeans counterintuitive: leave the tearing up to me. My massive thighs take care of that shit REAL QUICK. I also fall down and eat shit almost as often as a fawn learning how to walk for the first time. I acquire rips in jeans EFFORTLESSLY. But now I'm the owner of a pair, since Sister handed me some of her jeans. The pants are cute... but each time I look at myself in the jeans, I want to slap myself for being such a hypocrite).
So, as much as I hate the process, shopping I must do.
Then I have the last dilemma: my hair.
I've been measuring my hair for months. I know I said I was going to cut it around the first-second week of April, but it wasn't quite long enough.
Ideally, I want to donate 18-inches. Back in April, my hair was still around 16 inches long (what I was OK with cutting, that is) .The perfectionist, stubborn ox in me just didn't let me cut it until I reached the proper inches.
Well, I measured my hair last night, and I clear the 18 inch mark.
I'm left with this: Do I cut it now, and head out to New York/Princeton with the new short do I'll still be trying to master... or do I wait until I come back home in order to chop my hair?
Both styles are a pain to handle. The long hair gets on my nerves because I'm constantly washing it and it takes FOREVER to dry. That shit is pretty high-meintenance. However, if I'm ever in a hurry, I can just pick it up in a ponytail and call it a day.
The short do is a breeze in the sense that it takes a second to wash and dry. However, it's a MUST when it comes to properly taking a straightening iron to it. If I don't straighten my short hair, I look like a bum. My nappy hair doesn't cooperate. And then there's also the most worrying aspect of the cut: what if my hair looks like shit? I don't have enough time to correct it. I'll be looking like a moron--YET AGAIN-- in the photos of my bro's various graduations (high school graduation? I looked like a whore-ish moron. Bro's Basic graduation? Looked like a scared moron. Bro's Advanced Training graduation? Looked like an angry, stressed--AP exams were two weeks away-- moron. Bro's Notre Dame graduation? Looked like a frustrated moron. Princeton graduation? Possible pumpkin-pie-hair-cutted-freak Moron [favorite "Dumb&Dumber" reference right there]? Oh man).
I got some problems to solve now.
 |
| Because we all need a little comedy in our life |
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