tagged
J. C-K of Our Incredible True Adventures, one of my new blogging friends--part of a bunch of lesbians ttc and blogging about it, tagged me for the Six Random Things meme.
here goes:
1. I don't like sweets, usually, except maybe a little ice cream or a cupcake every once in a while. What I can't get enough of is salt. Recently I've crossed over to the really, really dark side and let myself buy those awful Doritos combo bags with two flavors. I can't stop eating the buffalo wing/blue cheese chips. Repulsive, I know. I portion it out into a bowl, so that I'm not eating the whole bag in one sitting, but still, gross.
2. The only black shoes I have right now are boots and a pair of mules. This is a big problem. I need an in-between black shoe.
3. I am obsessed with trying to figure out how to break up with my current stylist so that I can go back to my old one. Seriously. I think of it about fifty times a day. This is me trying to go to sleep at night:
Okay. I'm out. I can't think of anything else to say about myself that isn't self-deprecating, like how none of my clothes are cute and how I wish I knew what color my hair is. I was going to link to amazing posts I've written in the past that highlight random things about me, but instead I'll finish with three random things about my cat Manfred, who I hate tonight. Maybe blogging about him will make me like him again.
4. He likes baked goods. Our next door neighbor is incredibly sweet and often gives us homemade pie or brownies or banana nut bread. Unless these are in the fridge, Manfred finds them and eats them, even if it means tearing through tin foil to get to them. Tonight I hate Manfred because he knocked a box containing two beautiful cupcakes off the counter and did his best to eat them. I bought the stupid things on my way home from work tonight from a sweet little cupcake boutique in the silly boutique-y neighborhood where I teach to cheer myself up, because I had had really, really bad day. I rescued one of the cupcakes. Sure, I lost the frosting, but I would have scraped most of it off anyway, and the part in the paper was still good. I would have eaten it for breakfast tomorrow, but before I could finish cleaning up the frosting mess from the floor that stupid cat had it down on the ground and had pawed through it. I hope he feels miserable later, but not miserable enough to throw up.
5. We got him at the Shell Station off of Volmer Road on I-57, between Chicago and Kankakee. Not because we were there getting gas and happened upon someone giving away cats, but because that's where the crazy lady we bought him from (I know. That's what I get for buying a cat) wanted to meet us there. She never even got out of the car; she just thrust the little kitten out the window and said "he likes to suck ears. he's driving me crazy."
6. He likes to suckears my left ear lobe. Only mine, only the left.
My academic bloggy friends have all done this meme, and my new ttc friends tagged each other when they tagged me, so I've got no one to tag.
here goes:
1. I don't like sweets, usually, except maybe a little ice cream or a cupcake every once in a while. What I can't get enough of is salt. Recently I've crossed over to the really, really dark side and let myself buy those awful Doritos combo bags with two flavors. I can't stop eating the buffalo wing/blue cheese chips. Repulsive, I know. I portion it out into a bowl, so that I'm not eating the whole bag in one sitting, but still, gross.
2. The only black shoes I have right now are boots and a pair of mules. This is a big problem. I need an in-between black shoe.
3. I am obsessed with trying to figure out how to break up with my current stylist so that I can go back to my old one. Seriously. I think of it about fifty times a day. This is me trying to go to sleep at night:
"I wonder if I'm pregnant."I've been with the old one on and off for a decade and she does great, funky cuts at a very cool salon that I love going to, but every few years I go super short and she refuses to take me there and so I stray, and then I come back when I'm ready to grow it out and she makes the process fun and never ugly and it's no big deal. But this time I feel trapped by my super-sweet new stylist who I just don't believe is funky enough to help me grow my hair out, but whom I really enjoy knowing and chatting with. Normally I'd just walk away and not think about it, but she lives in my general neighborhood, which is a small town in a big city. True, I've never, ever seen her outside of the salon before, but I've convinced myself that I will a couple of months from now, and I'll have to explain to her why I never came back. This is a super local lesbian hair salon, and it's infamous for being ridiculously possessive about it's clients. (Mer, you know the I'm talking about, right?)
"Gotta break up with her. My hair is so ugly."
"Did I pay my credit card bill?"
"How do I do it? Do I call her?"
"Was it wrong of me to tell my students how much I hate that one queer theorist?"
"What if I sent her a letter?"
"If I get tenure, are they going to make me be the chair? Can they make me?"
"Should I tell her to her face? do you make an appointment for that?"
Okay. I'm out. I can't think of anything else to say about myself that isn't self-deprecating, like how none of my clothes are cute and how I wish I knew what color my hair is. I was going to link to amazing posts I've written in the past that highlight random things about me, but instead I'll finish with three random things about my cat Manfred, who I hate tonight. Maybe blogging about him will make me like him again.
4. He likes baked goods. Our next door neighbor is incredibly sweet and often gives us homemade pie or brownies or banana nut bread. Unless these are in the fridge, Manfred finds them and eats them, even if it means tearing through tin foil to get to them. Tonight I hate Manfred because he knocked a box containing two beautiful cupcakes off the counter and did his best to eat them. I bought the stupid things on my way home from work tonight from a sweet little cupcake boutique in the silly boutique-y neighborhood where I teach to cheer myself up, because I had had really, really bad day. I rescued one of the cupcakes. Sure, I lost the frosting, but I would have scraped most of it off anyway, and the part in the paper was still good. I would have eaten it for breakfast tomorrow, but before I could finish cleaning up the frosting mess from the floor that stupid cat had it down on the ground and had pawed through it. I hope he feels miserable later, but not miserable enough to throw up.
5. We got him at the Shell Station off of Volmer Road on I-57, between Chicago and Kankakee. Not because we were there getting gas and happened upon someone giving away cats, but because that's where the crazy lady we bought him from (I know. That's what I get for buying a cat) wanted to meet us there. She never even got out of the car; she just thrust the little kitten out the window and said "he likes to suck ears. he's driving me crazy."
6. He likes to suck
My academic bloggy friends have all done this meme, and my new ttc friends tagged each other when they tagged me, so I've got no one to tag.
posted by Margo, darling at 10:18 PM
4 Comments:
Manfred is freakin hilarious and so are you.
xo--yr girlfriend stuck downstate this week
Sorry to hear about the rotten day. I hope a little ear-sucking will get Manfred back in your good graces, although he totally owes you a cupcake.
Loved the stylist bit, esp because I just went through something similar. (And actually had the same issue with funky lesbian salon in question because I couldn't bear to pay their ever-increasing prices ... but couldn't *not* go because then I just knew I would run into stylist -- who's friendly only if you're on her good side and rather scary otherwise -- *everywhere.* Or not, but that's what I assumed.) Anyway, counterpart salon here in DC is, of course, gay/yuppie rather than lesbian and laughably less hip ... but I go, like everyone else. But my stylist, B, really kinda sucks. He's alright for a cut or two, then he gets lazy. And because every lesbian in town sees the same lame stylist, it's really hard to get a (disappointing) appointment. After a while, this summer I made the break, and started seeing M, instead. (And then I kept running into B on the street and pretending not to see him, or that nothing was amiss. Oy. I felt terrible. But I looked better, which was some consolation.) But then M -- a far better stylist -- changed salons, and now charges more than double what he used to! I can't stomach that. I mean the cut's decent, but just by DC standards. That's simply not worth $70 for an inch or so or hair! Eh, so then I had to go crawling back to B ... which was seriously humbling. On the other hand, it was suspiciously easy to get an appointment this time. I mentioned that ... and he said he apparently drove most of his clients away over the past few months by being so hard-to-get (he didn't mention the lame/lazy part). At least -- if only out of contrition (?) -- he gave me his best cut yet. ... But then I walked past M's new salon yesterday and could swear I saw him glaring at me through the window. I'm avoiding that block from now on.
Mmm ... cupcakes ... Is it worth walking 13 blocks in friggin' cold weather to get one at the only cute cupcake shop I know of around here?? Maybe.
xo
-m
I so hear you on the hairstylist bit. I have a history of being a "hairstylist whore," moving from one to the next without properly saying goodbye. I guess that's how I've dealt with it - by not doing anything. I think right now I'm in the longest stretch with one stylist ever - hoping that my success with monogamy in real-life will spill over to the hairstyling world.
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