I need help. No, other than the obvious help we ALL KNOW I need. I need hair help. And I’m turning to y’all for advice. Cuz I’m desperate I trust you.

My relationship with my hair is volatile. And cyclical. I grow it out, get fed up with it, chop some (or all) of it off, grow it out, get fed up with it, chop it off….. you get the picture. And often during one of these cycles I get a wild hair up my ass to change the color. And proceed to fuck it up beyond repair. How in the hell did I manage to not make it all fall out? Your guess is as good as mine. And now that I’ve said that, it will all fall out just to spite me. I can just hear it now:

Think you managed to dodge a bullet by not having me fall out from all the damage you’ve done to me? And just what do you think those hairs you find in the sink and all over your clothes ARE? That’s just the beginning if you don’t start respecting me BITCH!

Wow. Did you just get the chills? I did. I might be in serious trouble, so you need to HELP. ME. PLZ. And fast.

My most recent hair cycle has lasted over 3 years. Yep you read that right. I have not cut my hair (other than a trim here, an inch there) for 3 years. Now, don’t get all excited. You should know that my hair growth is sooper dooper SSSLLLOOOOOWWW. And after all that time, my hair doesn’t even reach my bra strap in back right now. Which might not be saying all that much since my boobs are migrating south for more than just the winter.

So, this is me today (or more accurately, yesterday):

It’s longer in the back, but I suck at taking pictures of my front, so I’m not going to even try to take pictures of my back. And I promise that nothing’s changed since yesterday. I did NOT go all hari kari on my hair in a fit of frustration last nite. But that totally sounds like something I would do, doesn’t it?

Anyway, I look at my hair &….. there’s just something off about it. It just looks WRONG. But I can’t pinpoint what the problem is. Is it too long? Should I part it differently? Does it just plain need a style overhaul? I have no idea.

I’ve fought with my hair for most of my adult life bcuz I was under the assumption that I have a round face shape. Lately, I’m not so sure that I really do have a round face. I’m starting to wonder if I don’t just have a fat oval face shape (which is great cuz like I need ANOTHER part of me to be fat *SIGH*). And this is one aspect where I could use a second (or a hundredth) opinion. Help!

There is one thing I should get outta the way. Short hair is not an option. I repeat, SHORT HAIR IS NOT AN OPTION. I fought every urge I had to shave my head over the past 3 years, bcuz of this:

I hate this picture. And don’t tell me I look good, cuz I know better. And this would not be one of the important times when I need you to lie to me.

So, here’s where I turn to you and ask, “What are your thoughts?” Good or bad, I wanna know. Really.

No, REALLY.

BUT, before you decide whether you want to help this crazy person, here are some helpful hints:

• My hair is fine. Not fine as in good, cuz I just got thru telling you the exact opposite. Fine, as in baby hair fine thankyouverymuchmomanddad. It has a mind of its own too. If I want it to curl one way, it will curl the other way, or not at all. And I swear I can hear laughing while all that’s going on.
• I like easy hairstyles. Styles that don’t require me to spend an hour in the bathroom with a flat iron, curling iron, and every hair product under the sun to achieve the perfect coif. I like styles that are as close to blow-dry-and-out-the-door as possible (which I’m sure I’ll have to abandon once I get outta Utah’s dry climate).
• My hair does NOT like to hold a curl. And bcuz of this, any curling iron larger than 1″ is outta the question. I have to use a 1″ curling iron or smaller to get curls that look like they came from big velcro rollers or large-barrel curling irons. And those curls? Last about 2 hours. If I’m lucky.
• I have the best stylist. EVER. She has hair just like mine, so she knows all about my frustrations. She also does exactly what I ask. And I love her for that.

So, think you can help me out? I would be ETERNALLY grateful.

And I’m not opposed to bribing you with alcohol. Or sexual favors.

A week after my birthday, I had a local bash at Keys on Main to celebrate with my friends here in Utah. Can I just say I love that place? No, really. I. LOVE. THAT. PLACE.

Yes, I hear that group of you in the back going, “Wh-WHAT? What happened to the cruise? WE WANNA HEAR ABOUT THE CRUISE!” I am writing it, I promise. But there is a lot to write about (I don’t wanna leave out anything) and it will prolly be in stages. So for now, bear with me. This story’s good too.

Six of the friends I invited came (Jenn, Michelle, and Sarah aka the girls; plus Roxanne, Gina, and Juan). And some of them brought friends (Cat, Katie, Jenna, and Mark). Some I knew. Some I didn’t. Long ago, that would have freaked me out. Ask anyone that knew me in the ’80′s (and even part of the ’90′s EGAD!). I. Was. Shy. If I didn’t know you, I kept to myself, which might have come across as me being a snobby bitch.  But, I’m a much more social person than I used to be. Now, you’ll KNOW that I’m a snobby bitch cuz I’m totally open about it. Just kidding. Life’s too short for me to be a snobby bitch and I never know who I might meet on any given day.

But I digress.

Gina’s goal for the night was to get me fucked up. I dare say she managed to achieve that goal long before the night was over. Oh my. I KNOW. I am SUCH a lush! I do remember having:

• a shot of Patron
• a Blue Moon
• 3 AMF’s
• a Jager Bomb (Michelle said I better not puke after I drank that. I didn’t. Think I’m finally getting this whole drinking thing down. WOOT!)
• Sips of other drinks (I think EVERYONE had jumped on the fuck Stacey up bandwagon by then. And I had the hangover the next day to prove it.)

The girls SWEAR that I had 5 AMF’s. FIVE. They said they counted how many I actually had, but I think they’re just trying to boost the ego of my inner alcoholic. Gotta love those girls. THEY ROCK!

Note: The last time I had a shit load of AMF’s, I couldn’t walk OR talk afterward. It may have something to do with the Sake Bombs we did beforehand, though. Maybe. And after all that, I didn’t pass out and I didn’t puke. YAY ME!

The girls decided to get me in the limelight early. Kendrick told me to get my ass on stage RIGHT NOW. Well, okay then. I went up there with my blinking tiara and boa (a present from the girls that I wore pretty much all night, when it wasn’t falling off my head. No I wasn’t drinking, I swear!) Kendrick told me (along with the rest of the bar thankyouverymuch!) that I didn’t look 40 and to get on the piano. Hmmm. Lemme think this through. I’ve been drinking. I’m in heels. And I’m supposed to hump my ass on top of a piano? Yeah, I’m kinda thinkin…NO. So I commented that I really shouldn’t get up there cuz it would NOT BE PRETTY. And of course Kendrick responded that he doubted that. That’s when I KNEW he was trying to get in my pants. So we were good. And then he serenaded me with “You’ve got the 60 and I’ve got the 9.” And I’m thinking, not only is this piano player HAWT, but he’s trying to get in my pants, AND he’s a MINDREADER? Yeah, I’m screwed.

Did I ever mention that I can get a little slutty when I drink? No? Well, then just forget that I EVER MENTIONED IT.

When the piano players rotated, we got Jordan closest to us. What a character! I’ve got lots of entertaining pics of him (including one where he was showing me his ass. For the camera. On purpose. THAT’S MY KIND OF MAN! WOOT!)

Oh! I totally forgot about the cones! I GOTTA talk about the cones! The gals that I took the cruise with decorated our cabin (think BLACK) and brought these orange cones to decorate the table on my birthday. The cones were forgotten that night, cuz we were too busy remembering our make-out session with the dolphins earlier in the day. But that’s for another post. Be patient.

The cones say “40-YEAR OLD SENIOR MOMENT”. And they are hilarious. I just couldn’t let them go to waste, so they tagged along for the ride. And became props throughout the night as the group became more and more trashed (think Madonna & you might get an idea of what I mean). I really am thinking of having them bronzed. If anyone can tell me where I can get that done, I will buy you booze. Hey, I figure I’m not the only one who can be bribed. Maybe I am. Maybe I’m just THAT easy.

There were lots of pics taken that night. Most of them I totally remember taking or having taken. And then there are the others… There are pics where Juan is wearing my tiara and boa, but I have NO MEMORY OF IT HAPPENING. None. I can remember the cone ‘props’, but I can’t remember THAT? That might mean something. Which might explain A LOT.

The pics Sarah took are WAY better than mine. That’s because I am still learning my new camera was too drunk to do anything more than sing very loudly off key just plain suck at taking pics of anything but boobs and lap dances. And even then I STILL suck cuz I’m too busy ENJOYING said boobs and lap dances to take a decent picture.

*sigh*

The six of us that stayed to the end of the night are below (I’m the one in the tiara. I know you weren’t sure, so I thought I’d help you out a bit. Cuz I’m ALL about helping others.). What a fun group! If you look in the middle, you can even see the cones, which should prolly go down in history. Cuz they are just The Awesome. Or maybe they should just be burned.

Thanks everyone! I had the most amazing time. We need to do this again VERY soon.

Tomorrow works for me.

Today is Picture Day and I’m ready to scream and commit murder/death/kill. Over hair. Seriously.

My daughter is no girlie-girl. She is definitely more of a tomboy. But I’m usually fairly successful in making a compromise with her so that she at least looks somewhat like a girl. Except with her hair. I can barely get her to comb her hair, let alone *do* anything with it. If she had her way, she would always wear a hat. But she doesn’t always get her way. I win on occasion, picking my battles carefully. I’m sorry, but I want to have *some* pictures/memories where I can say “There’s my beautiful little GIRRRRRRRLLLLLLLLL!”

So this morning the husband tells Ashley to get ready for school so that I can do her hair. And we get the bi-annual *tongue click-foot stomp-sigh-”Noooooo!”*. We’ll see/hear it again in the spring when it comes time for those pictures. Can’t wait. Her response always helps our mood *so* much and at that point we’re all GETREADYFORSCHOOLRIGHTNOW!

Have I told you that I’ve always wanted to be a motivational speaker? No? Well, that’s good, cuz I don’t.

After Ashley gets dressed, she comes in my bathroom. And it begins. I’m having a mental discussion with her hair begging it to help me find an appropriate style that won’t be too difficult to do. Ok, let’s see. I know…I’ll comb this part down. Yes. Wet it a little so it lays right. That’s good. Ashley, will you please stand up straight and stop tilting your head. Thank you. Now I’ll take this small part and wave it back. Hmmm… Maybe. Maybe if I put in a clip to hold it in place? Ye…no. That clip won’t hold. Ashley…PLEASE. *sigh* I don’t have another clip. The few small clips I have won’t match her outfit! WHY DON’T I HAVE ANY OTHER CLIPS? Oh, wait, I found one. Whew! Ok, so let me grab that piece again and wave it back. Slide in the clip. Crap! There’s a piece sticking up. Ok, take the clip back out. Comb it back down. Let’s try this again. Wave that piece back. And slide in the clip. Almost there. And check her wispy bangs. And ohmyfuckingGODAshley! Can you PLEASE just hold still for 5 minutes so I can make you look like you weren’t rolling around in the planter this morning?

These few and far between styling sessions ALWAYS end the same way. I’m pissed off and she’s in tears. Over hair. Seriously. Can I tell you how much I’m looking forward to puberty?

And so *I* end up late for work looking like the walking dead. Cuz after all that? I don’t give a flyingfartinspace what *I* look like today.

P.S. I’ll have to ask my Mom if she had to go through this crap with me on Picture Days. I’m thinking no, but that could be early dementia setting in (I have CRS – Can’t Remember Shit) or from the bender I (think I) was on last night.