Will I ever be normal again?

Something was up with Blogger yesterday, so I couldn't post. Did you miss me? Of course you did. Anyway, slowly but surely, this stuff on my face is clearing up. I went to the doctor again yesterday because I wanted her to give me a prescription for some kick ass antifungal medication, which she did. So now my face only looks this bad:


At least you can tell I'm human. That's always good. On the way to the doctor's office yesterday I was sitting at a stoplight and just started wondering about all the cars and the people inside of them. Looking at the line of cars reminded me of looking at ants marching along in line. I think that's what we are, a line of ants. I just looked at the people in the cars that were turning in front of me and I wondered what was going on in their heads. I think of what's possible with human potential and I just think we let ourselves be satisfied with very superficial concerns. Raising my daughter is something real, but I really wonder about the rest of it. We're so lucky to live in America where we can be anything we want and we end up as drones who live life on auto-pilot. If there are people out there who are truly happy, and I mean truly happy, with their lot in life, leave a comment and tell me why. I'm interested in knowing how we rate our lives and the standards we compare them against.

The thing that ate my face!!!

Remember how I thought the thing that caused my fever last week was an oncoming cold sore? Well, it wasn't that. It was something far worse. How could it be worse than a cold sore, you ask? Well, it seems to me I've got a fungal infection covering about half my face. I went to the doctor yesterday and she gave me a steroid cream, but this morning the patch under my chin had a decidedly ringwormish look to it. So, I've concluded it must be some sort of fungal infection. It's really disgusting and I am looking something like an extra from the set of The Hot Zone. Want a big, fat, juicy kiss, baby? I'll make sure to really rub the side of my face along side yours. If I had a digital camera, I'd take a picture so you could all share in my disfigurement, but I don't, so I can't. Too bad. The other thing that's making me think it's some kind of fungus is that it itches like hell. Actually, this has happened once before, just not this bad. I think I pick something up from the gym. I'm not using their towels anymore. I'm going to start bringing in my own. Please, Lord, let this thing go away. I don't want to look like a mutant.



Here's my face. I told you it was gross.

Whew.

This is what I discovered over the weekend: 18 children in one house is way too many. Yesterday was my daughter's birthday party and that's how many kids we had over. It was good weather, though, so we were able to keep them outside most of the time. However, eating and cake time was pretty hectic. All in all, it went over well and my daughter had a good time. Next year, though, I think we're going to have to do the party at a remote location. My husband dropped my parents off this morning so they could head back to DC. They gave my daughter an electric guitar for her present. My father plays the guitar, so hopefully the child will have inherited some guitar-playing genes from him. Now that that's all over, I have to concentrate on finishing my daughter's Halloween costume and doing what needs to be done for the Pumpkin Ball we're throwing at my church on Friday.

And they're off.

OK, just dropped off the Krispy Kreme to my daughter's class. I'm at work right now (and obviously working hard). As soon as I pick up my daughter from school this afternoon, we're on the road to Chi-town to pick up the rents from O'Hare. But first I have to vacuum out the car so my mother doesn't comment on how messy it is when she gets in. And after I pick up some food for the child so she doesn't keep complaining about how hungry she is as we drive up. Is that everything? I think so. Did the brownie troop hayride last night. It was fun, but hard to do during the middle of the week when it's a school night and I still have a lingering fever. I did a Google search on fevers not accompanied by other symptoms and apparently I have cancer. I know that's not something I should joke about, but what else am I going to do? Actually, I think I've discovered the culprit. This morning in the shower I felt a familiar tingling on my upper lip, so as soon as I got out I wolfed some acyclovir. Hopefully, I've caught the little bastard. I really don't want to go through the weekend with a big ole honking cold sore on my face. That wouldn't be cool.

Now that the presidential campaign is hitting the home stretch, I really have to wonder about the stupidity of the American public. I think if there was any coverage on an actual political concern, everyone's head would probably explode, like in Scanners, which must be the reason why all the news organizations choose to focus on how Kerry's wife holds considerable disdain for average American mothers and why Ohioans are miffed that Bush hasn't visited them for three weeks. I'll come right out and say I'm voting for Bush and I'm not ashamed. I've been a Republican for as long as I can remember. I think Kerry is a joke. Actually, I think most polititcians are a joke and my primary reasons for being a Republican are that I think it's the party that more closely demonstrates a philosophy of personal responsibility and because I don't believe government needs to get into every nook and cranny of citizens' lives. That plus the fact I once heard a joke that goes something like this: How can you tell a Republican from a Democrat? The Republican reads the newspaper and the Democrat lines the birdcage with it. I didn't want to be the person who lined the birdcage.

However, all you poor, misguided Kerry supporters should know that, historically speaking, Americans don't change presidents during times of war. It makes sense, really. How are you going to bring in an outsider during such a precarious time? They've not been involved in what's happened and don't have a good sense of where things lie. It's just not good thinking. Anyway, Kerry is just monstrous looking with that big old chin and forehead and face and everything. He's almost mutant-like, I'd say. Anyway, all joking aside. I'm Catholic, and you'd think that would be reason enough to favor Kerry, right? Wrong. He's what we like to call a C & E catholic. He's catholic when it's convenient for him and not when it isn't. I'm not going to preach overly much about what makes a good catholic because I know I'm going to be spending a good number of years in purgatory, but he certainly doesn't seem to internalize the teachings of the catholic church in any real way. And, seriously, what is up with his wife? I was going to college in Pennsylvania when John Heinz was killed in a plane crash and I can remember people's sadness and shock. He was apparently a very popular senator for Pennsylvanians. At any rate, Teresa Heinz Kerry strikes me a person a little out of touch with what the average American wife and mother deals with from day-to-day. And I'm not saying this just because she's brusque. That's not a crime, although, people like to think it is because women are supposed to be all warm and fuzzy. She seems to lack the ability to connect with people on a simple human level. Some people work tirelessly because they have a true compassion for their fellow man and their work is motivated by a complete lack of concern for their own personal wellbeing. Other people work tireslessly because they have a personal, rigid, opinion of how things should be and fight more to satisfy their own sense of order than being inspired to better the human condition. Teresa Heinz Kerry strikes me as being the latter. Sure, in the end, people probably benefit from either approach, but I'd rather be helped by a kind person. That's because people who help from kindness aren't doing it because they expect something back in return.

At any rate, no matter who you choose to vote for, go vote. It's important and, quite frankly, you don't have any right to bitch about the state of things if you haven't taken the effort to help decide the state of things.

Don't drink the water.

Here's a picture of my brother and his girlfriend during their trip to Costa Rica.



Aren't they cute? Yes, yes they are.

I was home sick yesterday. I woke up Tuesday night with the chills and then with a massive headache Wednesday morning. Took my temp and, yes, I have a fever. I stayed home to give myself one day of rest because the next fews days are pretty busy. Tonight I have to take my daughter on a hayride with her brownie troop and pick up Krispy Kreme for her party at school tomorrow, Friday I have to drive to Chicago to pick up my parents at the airport, Saturday have to run around getting stuff for my daughter's party and then go to a friend's party for her daughter, and Sunday is my daughter's party. So, as you can see, I couldn't afford to weaken my immune system any further by forcing myself to go to work, as I would have normally done. Anyway, I feel a little bit better; although, I'm still running a fever. I don't know why, though. I'm not displaying any other symptoms like sneezing, puking, stuffy nose or anything else. I just have a fever for some reason. Weird.

Ooop, just found out I don't have to do the friend's daughter's birthday party on Saturday, so that slows things down a bit. That's good. I'm cold right now and have to put on my jacket.

Let's play master and servant.

Obviously, I have a lot of time on my hands today...


You're just looking for love. You're very
emotional, and a lot of sad teenagers are going
to turn to you when they feel like shit.
You're also into BDSM, you devil, you.


What band from the 80s are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Yes, yet another stupid test.

I'm a O65-C92-E95-A14-N49 Big Five!!

Order Now!

I woke up at 4:00 this morning and couldn't go back to sleep, so I went downstairs to watch TV until 5:30, which is when I normally get up. I'm flipping through the channels and notice that there are an obscene number of sports channels and home shopping channels. What does this say about our culture? Why do we need five bajillion sport and shopping channels? I guess I'm more amazed by the fact that there's actually a demand for this much stuff. Have you ever watched a home shopping channel? How long do you have to sit there before something pops up on the screen that you actually want? My mother ordered a camera once off QVC or whatever and I couldn't believe she had actually ordered something off television. The camera was fine and all, I just couldn't believe she actually picked up the phone to make an order after watching something on television--that she was actually moved to the point of spending money because of a commercial. I have a strict rule about ordering off television: Don't do it. My daughter often gets caught up in the glitz and glamour of commercials selling various devices she thinks will be useful to me like vacuum cleaners or tools of one kind or another. She'll often run to the phone and bring it back to me yelling, "Order it, Mom. Order it, now. That could come in handy." Then I have to remind her I never buy anything off television and she always says, "Oh, that's right." She always seems a little disappointed that I don't make the order. I don't know why. Kids are weird.

I used to like shopping, in real life, I mean. I used to enjoy going to the mall and wasting an afternoon there. Not anymore. I pretty much hate the mall now. I only go if I can't get what I need somewhere else. Basically, the mall takes too much time, and if you've got a kid with you, you get dragged into the Disney store and the pet store and Nature Company and all the other stores that have nothing you need. My main shopping outlets now are Target, Wal-Mart and Meijer's (a local Wal-Mart type store). If I can't get it from one of those three places, I probably don't really need it. Of course, there might be a direct correlation to the fact that I don't much enjoy shopping anymore and there being no good shopping here in this god-forsaken place I unfortunately call home. When I go home to DC, I always make a stop at Tysons Corner or Fair Oaks to get what I can't get here, like MAC products. But, of course, that doesn't end up being much fun because it's usually Christmas-time and shopping is never fun at Christmas, especially in DC when everyone in the metropolitan area is crammed into a giant concrete box trying to beat out everyone else on the two-for-one sale of George Foreman grills at Sears. It sucks.

Pass the kimchi, please.

Last night I had Angela, her mother (who is visiting over fall break), and Lisa (Angela's roommate) over for a home-cooked Korean meal. This is the first time I've made a full Korean meal for another Korean who is not in my family, so I was a little nervous about it. But, in the end, I think it all went over well. I don't tend to make Korean food often because I'm the only one in my house who really likes it. My daughter likes the food that is most acceptable to an American palate, and my husband is pretty much the same. That means if I'm making Korean food, I'm making the same thing over and over again. So it was a nice change to whip up some dishes I wouldn't normally fix for my family.

It's starting to get cold here. It stayed warm for a good long while, but in the last couple of weeks, Autumn has hit hard. Autumn is my favorite season, so I'm glad to finally feel the chill in the air and pull out my jackets. However, today is not the sort of fall day I like. It's cloudy and cold and wet. I like the clear, crisp days when the color of trees is exploding all around you and you breath deep to fill your lungs with that wonderful earthy air.

Over the weekend, I took my daughter for her yearly birthday photo shoot. It works out well because right around the time I get her pictures back, it's time to start addressing Christmas cards, so I have a brand, spanking new picture to put in the cards. In one of the proofs, my husband says she looks just like me. "She has that same smug, you're-such-an-idiot smile that you always have," he said. I laughed.

It's the bling.

I thought since I mentioned it the other day, I'd let you all see my new ring.

You ain't all that.

I feel like complaining about academia and the people who make it their life and they way they confuse that life for something that really means two shits to anyone in the real world. However, before I do that, let me offer up the disclaimer that what I am about to say is not based upon actual events or people in my life and any similarities to actual events or people in my life is purely coincidental.

I have found that for some reason certain types in the university setting (primarily really old, sickly, white men who are on the verge of retirement after they've plagued others with their overbearing sense of inflated self-worth--created by having published a few books--for far too long) are allowed to get away with just about anything. Somehow, managing to have lived long enough equates deserving respect. Now, I should tell you, Homey don't play that. Character apparently means nothing. Demonstrating a respect for others apparently means nothing. Understanding that no single one of us is more important than any other one of us despite "station" in life apparently means nothing. What does seem to mean something is acting like a petulant child when not getting one's way. What does seem to mean something is behaving in such an annoying manner that people give you what you want to just get you off their back despite the fact that it's completely inconvenienced them and thrown their own schedule in the grinder. That's apparently the stuff that counts. And it quite literally makes me want to vomit watching people humor this sort of behavior because it's wrong and it's unacceptable and no one should have to put up with it. I just want to know when do people lose their fire? When do they stop thinking it's worth resisting oppressive treatment from others? I say, "Vive la revolution, you bastards!"

Peace!

Let me just say that Maxine Hong Kingston ROCKS!!! Her reading was awesome, she was awesome, the evening was awesome. She is such a gracious speaker and person. If anyone ever gets the opportunity to see her, go do it. She's a tiny woman with an incredibly large presence. All I know is that when I'm in my 50s and 60s, I want to be cool the way she is. She wore a long gray, jersey dress that came close to her ankles and a long, brightly-colored scarf she wore draped across her neck so that it hung down her back. The coolest part, though, is that she wore turquoise flats that were impossible to miss when she stepped up to the stage. Actually, I take that back. The coolest part was that she wore her hair in pigtails. If you've never seen a picture of Maxine Hong Kingston, you should know that her hair is long and thick and brilliantly white. The most incredible thing about her, which is most meanigful to me, is that you can almost see the glow of serenity that surrounds her. Maybe that sounds mushy, but she exudes this incredible calm and gentleness. But despite that exterior placidity, you can definitely sense the fierce heart beating within. Anyway, here's what she wrote in my book.

Warrior Woman

Maxine Hong Kingston is tonight and I'm very excited to listen to her speak. I read a little of The Fifth Book of Peace on Amazon.com because I can't get a copy of one in town. Hopefully, they'll be on sale at the reading tonight. But getting back to what I read--she starts the book out explaining how she lost her original manuscript in 1991 to forest fires. She tried to get to her house to save it when she heard news reports on how close the fires were to her neighborhood, but she wasn't able to. I have to think losing something like that is akin to losing a child in some ways. You've poured all this love and effort into it to create something beautiful and strong and then lose it forever and the only thing that makes it real is what lives in your memory. And sometimes what's left in the memory just doesn't seem real enough so you're broken because, then, it's just gone like mist.

Anyway, she was obviously able to bounce back and build something new that is hopefully more beautiful than the original would have been because it's informed by a reinforced love and determination to finish what was started.

I don't know if I've already mentioned this, but my husband and I celebrate our tenth wedding anniversary this month. He gave me my 10-year anniversary ring over the weekend and it's very pretty. I have to fess up to the fact that I actually picked it out and there was no surprise involved in me getting the ring because I basically told him he had to buy it. But it's still nice to have regardless. I'm looking at it right now and I can't believe I've been married for ten years. I know it's not that long in terms of a lifetime, but, damn, it is still a long time. The only piece of jewelry left for my husband to buy for me before we die is a diamond tennis bracelet, and I told him not to worry about getting that until I'm, like, fifty. I think only mature women can get away with wearing something like a tennis bracelet without looking stupid.

Nothing Much.

Just got back from a meeting that was really productive and an excellent use of my time. (Of course the absurdity of this statement should be plainly obvious to anyone with a brain. Any sentence containing the words "meeting," "productive," or "excellent" is automatically invalid based on standard rules of symbolic logic.) Anyway, I don't really have time to write because I've got work to take care of, but let me just say that someone at work is very high on my shit list. In fact, he's at the top of it. In fact, I've just made the executive decision to write him in on the top spot with permanent ink.

Waste of Time.

Well, I just wasted a bunch of time looking for Harry Potter candy. I thought I'd order some for my daughter's birthday party. I nearly bought some Every Flavor Beans from Amazon.com, but at the last minute decided not to because I wasn't going to get free shipping, Guess I'll just have to buy regular candy for the goody bags. Aren't you glad you stopped by today to read about my exciting afternoon? I got an email from my friend Amanda today and she told me feels invisible and that she doesn't have her own identity. She's either her kids' mom or her husband's wife. She says she doesn't do anything for herself anymore and I told her I know exactly what she's talking about. What's it about? Do men feel this way? That they're only identified by the circumstances and people connected to them rather than existing in their own right? When I was growing up, I never heard any of my mother's friends call her by her name. It's a Korean thing. They always called her Kathy Oma, which means Kathy's mom. And she would call her friends the same thing, just replacing the blank before Oma with the name of their oldest child. I mean, that's just part of the formal nature of addressing others in Korean culture. But even in America, it seems women of a certain age are only acknowledgeable by the function they serve to other people. Basically, what my friend is complaining about is that she feels no one cares about her own desires and thoughts. That's the part I understand. Maybe this is all just a bunch of whining. Well, tough boobies, baby. I don't care if it comes off as whining. I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take it anymore!!!

On schedule for today...

I've got to drive my daughter to a birthday party today after school. It's going to be at a roller rink, which should provide a few laughs. Looking at my calendar, I am realizing that there's a reading tomorrow night I want to go to. It's Susan Choi. She wrote The Foreign Student, and has now written a second book. I don't know what it's about, but I've seen her before and I'd like to again. For any of you keeping track, Desperate Dad and his girlfriend had their baby a couple of weeks ago--a beautiful little girl. He's got a picture up at his blog, so go take a look. She's freakishly unalienlike in appearance. As anyone out there who's had a baby knows, they tend to look something like Gollum from Lord of the Rings for a few months before hitting the cute baby stage.

Anyway, speaking of birthday parties, my daughter has decided to go the Harry Potter route again for her party this year. So I ordered the Harry Potter pack from Birthday Express and am now surfing the internet trying to get ideas for wizardly party activities. Although Birthday Express is a little pricey, it's worth the time it saves me in having to go from store to store looking for all the necessary party accoutrements. She had a Harry Potter party last year and she'll be inviting many of the same kids as last year, so I've got to try and figure a way to make it a little different this year. You know, how does all this stuff start to overcome your life? It's all normal, I suppose, but why don't we really figure out by watching what our parents had to do for us, that that's what we'll be doing for our own kids. I never imagined there would come the day where I had to feign interest in scrapbooking because every freaking thiry-something mother seems to think it's neat. I don't get it. But this is my life. But seriously, what is it with the scrapbooking? I look at my pictures because I like to reminisce about things that have happened in my life. I don't think having the pictures arranged in a flower pattern enhances that experience in any way. Sometimes I feel really stuck.

color quiz

This was interesting.

Color Quiz

These were my results:
Your Existing Situation
Readily participates in things that provide excitement or stimulation. Wants to feel exhilarated.

Your Stress Sources
Wants to overcome a feeling of emptiness and to bridge the gap which she feels separates herself from others. Anxious to experience life in all its aspects, to explore all its possibilities, and to live it to the fullest. She therefore resents any restriction or limitation being imposed on her and insists on being free and unhampered.

Your Restrained Characteristics
Believes that she is not receiving her share--that she is neither properly understood nor adequately appreciated. Feels that she is being compelled to conform, and close relationships leave her without any sense of emotional involvement. Feels that she cannot do much about her existing problems and difficulties and that she must make the best of things as they are. Able to achieve satisfaction through sexual activity.

Your Desired Objective
Needs a change in her circumstances or in her relationships which will permit relief from stress. Seeking a solution which will open up new and better possibilities and allow hopes to be fulfilled.

Your Actual Problem
Feels restricted and prevented from progressing; seeking a solution which will remove these limitations.

Your Actual Problem #2
The fear that she may be prevented from achieving the things she wants leads her into a relentless search for satisfaction in the pursuit of illusory or meaningless activities.

Chello.

Just got back from running to the drugstore to pick up some ibuprofen for the child at school. She often complains of small maladies like headaches or stomach aches to go down to the nurse's office. They take her temperature, tell her she's OK and then send her back to class. However, I've been meaning to drop off some medication to the school, just so they can have it on hand in the event she actually does have a headache, so I just ran over to take care of it. Of course, by the time I got there, she didn't have a headache anymore. She does something similar in church, she'll inexplicably have to go to the bathroom five times during mass. I think she does this just for a change of scenery. I think she's doing the same thing at school--she decides she's been sitting in the same chair for long enough and wants to take a little walk. Hand goes up,"Mrs, M. I have a headache."

Sometimes I think it would be nice if I could do that at work, raise my hand and be excused for a little while. I often think of the Farside cartoon where the microcephalic kid raises his hand in class and asks to be excused because his brain is full. That would be cool if we could get away with it in real life, heh, heh, heh. Maxine Hong Kingston will be reading in town next week and I'm am tres excited. We don't often get really, really well-known writers in these parts, especially ones I'm interested in listening to, so it should be very enlightening. I'm particularly found of Maxine Hong Kingston because she was one of the first writers I read when I consciously decided to start reading works by asian-american writiers. I read Woman Warrior and discovered myself in the pages of a book for the first time. Although her ethnic background is Chinese rather than Korean, there are similarities in the cultural experiences of all asian people in America. Also, there's not a huge amount of writing by Korean-Americans yet. We haven't been here long enough and our voice is only just emerging. Whereas Chinese- and Japanese-Americans have been here for several generations already and have had the time to voice their stories.

That was my ear, thanks.

I don't know what the heck is going on, but there is some very loud, painful screeching going on outside my door. I think they're testing the fire alarm or something. I've been thinking a lot lately on the fleeting nature of time. I really don't have enough hours in a day to do the things I need to do. And I ask where is the justice in having to watch time race by during the prime years of life? When you're a kid and can't do anything, time is really, really slow. Then it starts to speed up when you start having some fun, namely college. Next thing you know you're married with kids and high school was only yesterday. Now it seems what happens in a day between the time I open my eyes in the morning and close them again at night takes about two seconds. Two seconds isn't enough time to do the stuff that needs to be done in a day. But then we get old and we can't work anymore and our kids don't want to visit us and we're sitting in a chair watching Jerry Springer. I bet time goes really, really slowly then.

OK, damn fire alarm going off again. Really annoying. Before I had my daughter, I used to be a really deep sleeper. Nothing could wake me up. Once when I was in college the fire alarm went off in the dorm at 1 am and I didn't hear it. The alarm was right outside our door, but I didn't wake up. The RA and some other person had to unlock my door, come in and wake me up to tell me to get out of the building. A sidenote to this story is that they then wrote me up for not leaving the building during a fire alarm and I had to go to the dorm coordinator's office and I sure gave him a piece of my mind over the fact that they obviously knew I was not trying to stay in the building. Anyway, that was then...now I don't sleep so deeply. Having kids messes up your sleep in a big way. I don't know if it's because you're afraid something might happen when you're asleep so you're brain doesn't let you go really deep into slumberland or what. But the ironic thing about it is it makes you tired during your waking hours and less able to deal with your kids. So we deprive ourselves of sleep at night because we want to be sure our children are sleep and then end up beating the crap out of them after their spill their bowl of cereal because we have no patience due to lack of sleep.

Come back to the five-and-dime, Billy Idol.

I was just sitting here listening to my Rebel Yell CD, which I got sometime back. One of the things I've been doing since getting a CD player a decade or so ago is buying my favorite tapes on CD. I still have a lot of my tapes from high school and college, but let's face it, they don't sound as good as the CD. Anyway, I'm sitting here listening to Rebel Yell and one of the remakes towards the end of the album comes on and I notice that they've got the vocal track playing so low, you can barely hear it. Anyway, curious about this, I make various adjustments to my iTunes equalizer until I can hear the vocal better, and I immediately understand why it was so low to begin with: The singing sucks major donkey dicks. I don't know when they did these remakes, and they probably did it to add to the album when it was released on CD, but it stinks. Now maybe Billy Idol never could sing. I really don't know, but even if he was this bad in the '80's, why weren't they using the sound engineers from those old albums for these new songs? You couldn't tell on the old albums that Billy's vocal talents might be lacking. You sure can on those extra songs, though. He can't hit the high notes. He's not singing the right words. He sounds like he's either drunk or on major psychotropic medication. So the question that comes to mind is why even bother? Why not just chalk up the cost of studio time to lessons learned and forget the experiment entirely? Why did they still think it was worth putting the remakes on the album? I mean, really, it's embarrassing for Billy. Why not let the world fantasize about what you used to be rather than beating them over the head with the sorry stick that is your reality? It made me sad to listen to them because I used to do a lot of fantasizing about Billy Idol when I was a teenager. In fact, one of my goals in life was to have sex with him. Obviously, that never happened. But, damn, listening to his tired, worn-out voice and imagining the skinny 50-year-old body behind it makes me glad it never happened. Actually, Billy's not looking that bad considering his somewhat advanced age, hard-living rock and roll life, motorcyle crashes and slavish dedication to one hairstyle. I'd probably still do him...if I was drunk...and the lights in the club were really dark so he still looked good, from a distance...and I was fantasizing about Sting.

Bad Hair Day.

I'm frustrated because my hair has really been looking like shit lately and I don't know what to do about it. I'm trying to keep it long because you have to go in for a cut too often when you have a short style. I'm also trying to find something that I can literally dry and be done with it. I don't have a lot of time in the morning with trying to get myself and my daughter out the door. Long hair is good for that because no matter what, you can always just pull it back into a ponytail. But, obviously, that gets old after awhile and even though I am a thirty-something wife and mother, I don't want to look like a thirty-something wife and mother. You know who I'm talking about, that tired woman you see at the supermarket, pushing the cart with children trailing behind her while she pushes on down the aisles with a lost look in her face because she hasn't been in a hair salon in two years (and knows she looks like it) because she doesn't have the time to squeeze it in between driving her kids all over God's green earth, cleaning the house, doing the shopping, going to work and reading the mail. I don't want to be that woman. The problem is it's really hard to find a hairstyle that meets all these criteria. Trying to find something on the internet is a massive waste of time because no site has a really large collection of photos and most of them are the types that come out of hair magazines, which are really more experimental a lot of times. They're not the sort of hairstyle any normal person would have. I'm also plagued somewhat by the fact that my hair is course, so it tends to look frizzy at the end, which means I have to spend time with products to make it look smooth, time I don't have most days. Somebody please, please help me. (pathetic whining sounds here) Please, please. I hate may hair and I want to have something decent.

My fingertips feel really warm all of a sudden. Does that mean something? But, anyway, I need some serious help here with the hair. I thinking about making an appointment at Vidal Sasson when I go home for Christmas because they're supposed to give you the right hairstyle for your face shape. I'm amazed that your average run of the mill hairstylist doesn't seem able to just look at your face and hair type and give you something that looks good. I think they're too paranoid the client will flip out or something. They shouldn't be afraid, though. What does the client know about hair.? Of course, there are the hairstylists who are just dying to try a certain new style on someone and the person they manage to convince to get it is the last person it looks good on. That's why people go home crying. It's really all just a big breakdown of communication. But, seriously, I need major hair help. Someone help me. That's what this post is about. Find me a freaking haircut for the love of God.