Monster Hair

Last spring I decided to change gyms, mostly because of the variety of classes available. It wasn't until this past week that my prior membership at the Rec expired. I am a little sad about this, because it was kind of nice being able to pick and choose which one I went to. Also, I will be really missing the sauna. I am bond and determined to have my own personal sauna some day :-)

Over the weekend, I saw one of the regulars at the Rec. He mentioned that he missed seeing me and my "monster hair." Um... thanks? I know it's hard to believe, but I don't wake up with all my hairs in place. Actually, my hair is quite a disaster when I pop out of bed. With short hair, you just never know how things are going to turn out. 

Just recently I purchased some of these in hopes to control my morning mane. 

After this morning, I am sold. The grips on the inside of them helped it from slipping and sliding. The only problem is, now I have no excuse for my "monster hair." 

Happy Halloween everyone :-)

Sparkle Farkle

There are a few times when glitter is "acceptable" for adults. One is New Year's Eve, the other is Halloween. Now, I realize there are a few exceptions (Lady Gaga), but it's not like I'm sprinkling glitter on my face to pick up a gallon of milk. I should also preface this by saying, I love glitter... especially on my nails, shoes, and jewelry. And, when done right, glitter can be an effective way to add a little pizzaz to your attire.

Let me distinguish the difference between a Halloween costume and a classy touch of glitz.

Scary lips belong to a witch.

A fun little way to spice up a "Friday outfit."

A nice touch for a fairy costume.

Just plain fun.

Don't be afraid of the glitter. Don't be afraid to be glam. And remember in the midst of all of the sparkle farkle: some girls are just born with glitter in their veins.

Fullest Full Moon

As I got in my bed last night after teaching all day and serving all night, I realized that I had been up for 21 hours. The worst part was, I didn't even feel that tired; however, I had no troubles falling asleep.

Teachers often mention how students act differently when the weather is about to change. If there is a rain cloud anywhere in sight, those kids are bouncing off the walls. Working at a sports bar is not much different. Every once in a while people start crawling out of cracks, only to leave me to wonder, "Who are you? Where did you come from? And when are you going to be leaving?"

I realize that it is almost Halloween, but was there a full moon last night? Because there were some special people roaming around.

First, we wear shoes in a restaurant. Actually, we should all be wearing shoes in public. Period. "What's that smell?" Oh yeah, the dude at my table decided to kick back and relax. No, thank you.

Secondly, we are not having a costume party at any point this weekend. So to the man wearing the Scooby Doo attire: What were you thinking? You look ridiculous. Go back to your party.

Finally, I do not work at Perkins. Therefore, you don't need to rush up to the hostess stand to pay. Your server will take care of your bill, so don't go running around with your bill and money in hand. Chill. Out.

Phew. I feel much better. I hope the fullest of the full moons was last night, because I don't know if I can handle this craziness again tonight.

Clinique Counter Curiosity

I find the older I get, the more talkative I am with salespeople. I love to hear their opinions about products and attire. I would like to think I’m doing them a favor; they have to bored, right? If I’m really in the mood to shop, I head straight to the clerk to hear about what’s in season and how to mix-and-match with pieces I have from home.

Just the other day, I was replacing some makeup at the Clinique counter. I was going on about my mascara primer; talking about how much I loved the product. The clerk went on to share that “every time you lose an eyelash, it takes two years to grow back.” Really? How can that be? It’s not like I’m plucking them out one by one, but I feel like I’ve lost quite a few lashes in my time. This conversation left me curious. Was she for real, or was she trying to sell me a product? I do love the product, and I plan on continuing to purchase it; however, I’m not sold on this reasoning.

How often are these salespeople sincere? Are they taught to blow smoke up our rears? Or is this all legit? I’m so sure that spending an extra $20 on facial products will make me look ten years younger. Clinique counter, you make me one curious cat. 

Bad@#$ Barbie

Growing up, I found any excuse to play Barbies. I dressed them up and re-arranged their houses. My Barbies experienced the monumental parts of life; she dated, broke-up, had babies, and got married (Naughty Barbie may have even found herself at the local bar). Barbie and her friends lived out every little girl’s dreams.

One Christmas, my gifts consisted of the entire Barbie wedding set. This included everyone from Ken, the groom, to, Todd, the ring bearer. Of course my aunts helped me create Barbie’s dream wedding, complete with toilet paper to represent the isle.

I was glad to have a little sister that shared my love for Barbies. When my friends and I started junior high, most of us put away our dolls and Barbies. Not me. I had a younger sister that I had to play with (wink, wink).

As I was snooping online the other day, this article caught my eye. A tattooed Barbie?!? Sure enough, it's Barbie sporting a pink bob and flowery tattoos. I just have to say: I. Love. This. I mean, everyone else gets to express themselves. Why not Barbie? She is a doctor, teacher, and gymnast. There is no reason she can’t show some ink.

Barbie, I always knew you were a bad@#$. 

What I Would Never Be

Let’s set up a little scenario. You meet someone new, and it the midst of all the small talk you learn that he or she works as an investment broker. First thoughts? Well, mine would be, “Why would you ever want to do that?”

I was watching my beloved “Sex and the City” the other evening. As Carrie glided across the streets of New York, she graciously ran into a dog walker. A dog walker. This got me thinking, “Why would anyone want to do that?” Walk around with twelve dogs. I suppose you would have to pet them too.

It brought me back to a time when I had to volunteer at the humane society. My hands stayed in my pockets the entire time. I was not about to pick up a three legged dog. And there was no way that I was going to hang out in a room full of cats. Eww. This still gives me goosebumps. Yuck-o.

So, what would I never be? A dog walker… or a volunteer at the humane society. 

The Land of Mascots

Well, today marks the start of my second student teaching experience! Which means, for the next eight weeks I will be a Wolverine. That’s right, in the span of one week I was able to transform from a Spartan into a Wolverine. Pretty crafty, I know.

Growing up I was a Bulldog. As I moved to college, I learned how to roar like a Panther. All these life changes call for great versatility. As the colors, cheers, and mascots change, I began to wonder how many different teams I will be cheering for by the end of my teaching career. I suppose I will be part dog, part warrior, part beast by the end of it all. In other words, one scary looking creature.

On family road trips, my brother and dad used to play “name the mascot.” Dad would yell out a college anywhere in the country, and my brother would respond with the mascot of that particular school. Talk about worthless information; however, it is really quite impressive. Who knew that Lake Forrest College is home of the Boomers? An even better question: who cares?

I have actually always really enjoyed the exchanges between my dad and brother. Maybe some day I will be living with them in the land of mascots.