Hypocrite, party of 1 - your table is ready.

Most of my life, I had short hair. My hair grows very slowly. When I got pregnant and started prenatal vitamins, that shit grew like wild fire. I kept cutting it because I can't stand the heat. Oh, and I have no clue how to style my hair. I've tried, really, I have and it always ends in disaster. But a few years ago, I was determined to grow it long. And I did. And I loved it! I still couldn't style it very well. I am cursed with natural curls. I'm also cursed with rosacea and a double chin. Fortunately, I was spared the orange hair my father had. Oh, and his inability to swim. I can't swim well, but well enough not to drown if I fall out of a boat (provided I don't hit my head on anything and become unconscious). RIP, Daddy-O! Do you have to pay child support where you are now? Because you owe, you know!

Since I'm style-challenged, I wear my long hair in  ponytail. I have to wear a headband or barrettes, too, because my layers fall out of the rubber band. Or ouchless elastic, whatever.

I spent many months grumbling about how much I hated Morena Baccarin's hair in the show, V.

I thought it made her look like a rat, not the gorgeous Inara she was on Firefly. 

Then one day, I was reading on one of my boards about a little girl who cut her hair to donate. I decided I wanted to do that. I measured my ponytail - 12 inches!!! I had enough. And since I was going to donate all of it, I figured I'd go short - shorter than I ever have. I browsed the Web for two days looking for something I thought I'd like. I finally settled on a pixie cut.

I consulted with a few people, most of whom told me to go for it. Except my step-daughter. She said no It was almost as if I'd asked her if I should divorce her dad. Whenever we joked about us splitting up, the girl would pitch a fit. Glad to know she loves me. I'd do anything for my little apple blossom. Who graduates from high school in 3 weeks. Damn.

So, I finally went to the cheap hair place I always go to. They have ridiculously high turnover for their stylists. I got a nice older lady who tried talking me out of making such a huge change, but when I assured her that I'd had short hair in the past, and that the long hair look was actually new for me, she agreed to cut it. She didn't cut it as short as the picture - she thought I might have second thoughts. When I left the salon, I loved my hair. I didn't have it falling in my face, it wasn't falling out and sticking to my shirt, and I was nice and cool.

Forty-eight hours later, I'm kicking myself. Not really with regret that I have Morena-Baccarin-in-V hair but with my own inability to style a simple stupid hair cut. Even short, I can't get it to look nice. I wash it, towel dry, spread a little styling shit through it, and try to make it look presentable. And I end up looking like giant dough ball with pepperoni and short, wild frizz.

Next time, I don't care. I'm getting this low maintenance do:

This is one badass bitch. So is this one:

These two, not so much:

  

Monday Metal Mania

I am not all that smart.

I used to be a calculus and physics whiz, but since I stopped working (in 2001) and left school (in 2005), I've become pretty darn stupid. Calc and physics would probably come back to me if I sat down and tried them (and trust me, I think about doing just that all the time). I'd wager money that, at times, my almost 6 year old can outsmart me. He certainly sees things from a different perspective. I'm not a visual person. I can't see patterns well or think three dimensionally. I learn fairly well by doing. I don't learn well by reading lots and lots of text. If there are diagrams with instructions, I can semi-do something. I'm certainly not a good listener and my retention (regardless of input format) sucks. That's why I'm not all that active on message boards and pretty self-centered in my blogs. It's not that I don't care. It's that I don't remember and I'm easily side-tracked.

Speaking of which, this post is about Memorial Day. I wanted to find a metal song that fits with the sentiment of the day. Memorial Day itself doesn't mean all that much to me. Every single day, I think of and honor/appreciate the people who have fought and died for this country - relatives, friends, strangers. I was going to say it's like Mother's Day, Father's Day, Sweetest Day, Valentine's Day, Grandparent's Day, and the utterly ridiculous Step-Parent's Day but it's not really the same. Those are bullshit holidays. I'm a mom every day of the year, and I don't need a special day for reading/listening to other moms cry and whine about how their husbands didn't do anything for them for Mother's Day. Dude, you're not his mother. Don't get him anything on Father's Day, unless you're in a very sick and twisted relationship with your actual father. So what if your kids aren't old enough. Do you really think one day a year of forced appreciation is going to change anything?

I think the intentions of Memorial Day are much better. It does mean something, something bigger than just a relationship that not everyone may be a part of. But as far as celebrating, I don't. My father-in-law comes down, takes us to dinner, and I eat crap all weekend. I bitch about the traffic, because Memorial Day kicks off Touron Season (and we can't even shoot them). I will rarely leave my house this summer. Harris Teeter will no longer have killer meat deals until after the vacationers who can't drive the speed limit leave. There are two vacationers I'm looking forward to seeing. The rest of you just get the bird from me.

A couple paragraphs ago, I said I'm easily side-tracked. I meant to start out by saying I'm not smart enough to find a really good Monday Metal Mania song for today's sentiment. So, this week's lame attempt to connect Monday Metal Mania and Memorial Day is Metallica's One. Peter Piper also picked a peck of pickled peppers while the woodchuck who could chuck wood chucked wood and Silly Sally sold seashells by the seashore.

This video always fascinated me. Based on a book, later made into a movie, Johnny Got His Gun, the song is about a disabled soldier from WWI who is limbless, with no eyes, nose, ears or mouth. He cannot communicate with those around him, but his mind is intact. Stephen Hawking (one of my heroes from my short-lived physics-obsessed days) can probably relate a little bit. I've read A Brief History of Time more times than I can count. Another book I love is Kip Thorne's Black Holes & Time Warps. I wonder how relevant these books are today. I haven't even kept up with current theories in instructional design, much less the more complicated field of physics.

So what would I do if I were trapped in my own head, with no means of communication or experiencing the outside world? I think I'm half crazy even with sensory input and output. If I had to put up with nothing but my own thoughts day in and day out, I don't know. I don't know enough about the brain to guess how it would adapt. I do know that I wouldn't want to be a burden to those caring for my body. That's the big thing. I wouldn't make a very good paperweight or door stop.

Monday Metal Mania

I'm feeling a bit down today, still crying over last night's finale of Lost. I had to ditch Celebrity Apprentice in order to watch it and I know I made the right choice. I couldn't bear to watch Bret Michaels not resting his sorry ass. Seriously. This man needs to take a vacation and let his body heal. In two months, he's had three serious medical problems. Slow down, dude!

EMI Records is douchey and doesn't allow embedding, but check out Something To Believe In. It honors Bret and lets me have a good cry for Lost.

Monday Metal Mania

Today, I honor the sexiest man in hair metal, Kip Winger. He had gorgeous hair, beautiful teeth, a naughty little smirk, and enough chest hair to lose your fingers in. I can't name any of the other guys in the band but let's face it - Winger was all about the man behind the name. And even for being a bazillion years old, he's still sexy as hell.

I have never seen his Playgirl photos, but I may have to hit up these Amazon sellers. Though, I'm not sure I want used, cum-crusted Playgirls lying around. You know men were buying this issue up! It was like when Chyna posed for Playboy. Do you know how many truck stops in Pennsylvania I had to go to to get a copy? It was for Sam. I swear. 

 I would love that body. Not the face. Or the boobs. They are a little too big. And fake. The hair is nice, though. Not as nice as Kip's!

Speaking of Kip...back to the sexy. Here's Winger, showing off their pedophile/creepy old man sides, with "Seventeen."

Friday Five

There's a community on LiveJournal that posts a set of questions every Friday. Some weeks, I feel like putting in the effort. Sometimes it just takes me a few days to put in that effort.

What is your favorite book and why? More like series - Diana Gabaldon's Outlander. So far, there are 7 books and there will be at least one more. The books are long and well written, and you cannot help but be best friends with the characters. They feel like family. Other favorites include The Stand, Bag of Bones, and The Dark Tower series by Stephen King, Strangers and the Odd Thomas Books by Dean Kootz, and Sara Donati's Into the Wilderness series.

How many languages do you speak? Just English and igpay atinlay.

How many family members do you have named Bill? Jim? Etc? In my immediate family and what I know of the massive amount of extended family members, no Bills or Jims, but I'm pretty sure there's a distant cousin named Etc and his son Etc Jr.

What is your all time favorite song? All time??? I can't pick just one. I go through phases. Sometimes I love the old stuff. Sometimes I can't get enough of the new stuff. If a gun is to my head, Def Leppard's "Pour Some Sugar On Me" made me who I am. That is the song (thanks to my friend Melissa pointing out the one-armed drummer) that got me into hair metal, which dictated who my friends were, which led me down certain paths. But recent favorites include "Welcome To The Black Parade" and "Famous Last Words" by My Chemical Romance, but my right now song is "Savior" by Rise Against. I can't not move my feet when I hear it.

What can't you imagine your life without? My Zune and mp3 technology.

I do enjoy my job.

I haven't worked since March 2001. My employment history is funky. My first job was at McDonald's in Fredonia, New York. I loved that place, especially once I started closing. The closing crew we had was awesome. Aside from closing, I loved doing maintenance on the weekend. I didn't have to deal with customers all that much. I was quite happy in the freezer stacking boxes or hauling garbage to the dumpster. After Mickey D's, I had a work-study job on my college campus. I cleaned the dorms during the summer, when the Buffalo Bills had their training camp. I once asked Marv Levy if he had a banana in is pocket or was he just happy to see me. He had a banana in his pocket. I also got Steve Christie's autograph. I even stole a pair of John Butler's shorts. Now, he was a bigger guy and his shorts did not fit me, but don't worry - I grew into them.

So I did that few a couple summers, and I worked at Bob Evans as a bus boy (?) for a month. I hated that place so much, I don't even think I went back for my last paycheck. But I got my dream job shortly after that - tutoring science for the Upward Bound Program on campus. I worked with high school kids in various capacities for about 4 years after that, and I loved it. LOVED IT.

I left that job to move to North Carolina, where my mom had moved with her new husband. She got me a job at a little store that sold lighthouse crap. It was was okay, but I missed teenagers. Luckily, I found a job as a "high risk intervention mentor" and got to work one-on-one with behaviorally challenged kids. My first client was a 16 year old male (who has grown into a wonderful young man, solider, and father). He phased out of the program and I was assigned a 7 year old girl. That only lasted a few months. Elementary aged children are not my forte. So I quit that job to focus on grad school. A couple years later, I became a stay-at-home mom. It wasn't until my son started kindergarten that I felt comfortable enough to try working again. He was sick a lot in preschool so I could never do it then.

I bit the bullet and took my course to become a substitute teacher. Due to Sebastian's schedule and the weird way the schools here do not all start at the same time, the only school I was available to sub in was his elementary school. I took my phone to bed every night, waiting for that last minute call. Of course, it never came. Then I learned from a fellow sub (who was worked to death in the same elementary school), that the cafeteria needed subs. They aren't called lunch ladies anymore. They are child nutrition managers & employees. (Let me assure you, there is very little "nutritious" about the school lunches.) Anyway, I emailed the Child Nutrition Director, and since I was already approved to substitute teach, it took less than 24 hours for me to be put on the list for the cafeteria - all 8 of them, since the hours worked with our schedule. And to my surprise, the phone rang in the morning. It was my son's school, and they needed someone that day. I was a little scared but whatever. I hadn't worked in almost a decade and I was just sure I'd commit some employment faux pas. But I didn't. I served lunch to hundreds of elementary kids, including my own. It was a perfect shift - just 4 hours - of no stress, no pressure work.

My next gig was at a middle school. The hours were longer - 6 this time - and it cut it close, time-wise, for picking up Sebastian. But it's not horrible there, especially serving. The middle school kids know what they want and you don't have to ask them 50 million times whether they want crappy carbs or healthy vegetables. The middle school kids can't stack their trays for shit, so being in the washroom at the middle school sucks. The elementary kids are very good about stacking their trays, probably because they have a lot of guidance.

I've been at the middle school 4 times in the last 2 months. I've been at my son's elementary school 13 times, and I'm scheduled for 2 more this week. I had my first 6-hour shift there today and 6 hours there isn't nearly as long as 6 hours at the middle school. I would love to be a permanent lunch lady at my son's school. I have no desire to substitute teach there. That doesn't mean I don't want to substitute teach at all - I'd just prefer to teach the older kid. But until Sebastian moves to middle school and can become a latch-key kid, I'm chained to the little guys. And I'd much rather serve them food or wash their lunch trays than try to keep their attention for 6 hours a day. I have little patience on the best of days. I can't imagine dealing with 21 Sebastians for any length of time.

Monday Metal Mania

I have the best intentions, but my guess is this lasts a month. Every Monday, I will post a video from the good old days, when the music was awesome and all the hot guys looked like chicks.

Today's offering, Driftin' Back by Killer Dwarfs. It's really too bad this was never a proper single, with a video. This song always takes me back (derrrrr!!!) to the most awesomest of years.

My son knows me well.

Yesterday, Home Depot had its monthly kids workshop. Sebastian told me that he and Daddy didn't get to do the workshop, that Home Depot wouldn't let them because they'd done too many workshops already. I knew he was fibbing, for a good reason. He was saving the planter he built for today. He put purple flowers in it and made a purple card. Today is my 35th birthday, and it could not have been more perfect.

Last week, my husband gave me my gift. I'd been looking at that bike for a while. It's nothing major, just a basic Walmart bicycle (because I am insanely cheap!!) but I love it. I named it Sheldon.

I do love the nerd. I briefly majored in physics in college. I wanted to be a physics teacher, but I slacked off so badly after high school that I was lucky to graduate with my pitiful philosophy degree. Yes, they actually offer degrees in fucking off at SUNY Fredonia.









I had a most awesome pan-seared tilapia with steamed broccoli for dinner. Sam and Sebastian had ribs, but I'd been craving fish, so that's what I made for myself. For dessert, I had a Weight Watchers yogurt. For my husband's birthday last month, I made very awesome diet soda cupcakes but these are not something I can eat just one of. I'm a binge eater. Well, I use binge eating as an excuse to overeat. I do not meet all the criteria to be a real binge eater. But as I stuffed my face with ice cream this weekend (probably  2 quarts of it, in 2 days), I reminded myself that I don't really have a problem. Nope. I don't binge often enough to be considered a binge eater. So I think I'm just your run-of-the mill overeater. Therefore, I did not make myself any diet soda cupcakes.

Oh, and welcome to my personal blog. I've spent the last 3ish years posting about my quest to slim down and get strong, but I've neglected noting the other aspects of my life. I do post snippets on Facebook, but I will probably forget all the awesome stuff that's happened since I last blogged on MySpace (back in July)!!