On being a girl and my inability to do so.

I finally went in for a hair cut today. I was several months overdue and my poor stylist nearly had a heart attack as she surveyed the split ends and tangles of blond. Anna should be given some sort of award - she labors over my head only to have me wrestle it continuously into a pony tail or something that gets it the hell OFF OF MY NECK. I'm terrible at the grooming part of being a girl. I feel as though much of my life is a battle between me and my eyebrows, my hair, my ragged cuticles. The clothing thing I have under control. I can rock the shit out of my closet, but the upkeep it takes to look as though I didn't just fall out of bed...sheesh. My beauty barometer is really based on whether or not I look homeless and/or washed. Today, all signs pointed towards my having spent a rough night at the shelter wherein I got thrown out of the line for the shower and had to use my ninja like knife skills.

I didn't sleep well and when my alarm went off this morning a parade of expletives fell out of my mouth as I batted around the nightstand in search of the snooze button. When I finally had gathered up enough resolve to get out of bed (that, and my bladder was screaming ATTEND! ATTEND! that bitch) I realized that I had 15 minutes to get ready and to work which meant a baseball cap and very little makeup. It wasn't until three hours into my work day that I realized I was wearing the same pants I had slept in. I was bossing my clients through some ab work and looked down only to realize, "Fuck, I totally wore these to bed last night." Being me, I also felt like this would be an amusing diversion for my clients who were writhing around in pain on the floor, "Hey guys! I'm still in my PJ's!" This startled them out of said writhing and one of them screeched, "Dear GOD, please tell me you at least brushed your teeth!" I did a quick tongue check and things seemed to be smooth, so I said, "Yup! 20 more, please!"

I relayed this to Anna as she was dancing around the back of my head, swearing at one of my many cowlicks. She raised her eyebrows in concern and said, "Don't you have two sisters? How did no one ever teach you to be a girl?" Clearly, I wasn't paying attention when classes were being held re: playing with dolls and eyebrow maintenance and how to apply eyeshadow so as not to look like a two bit whore. (Note: dolls don't do much, but they make great targets when you need something to shoot out of a tree. That's really as far as I got.)

So despite it's rough beginnings, today ended well. My hair is bouncing around and Anna insisted that I not leave until I apply some lip gloss...which I have an astounding number of despite my inability to keep anything on my mouth for more than five minutes. (Is there some secret to that? I'd love to know it.) I was thinking that it would be a great night to go out since I actually am wearing something other than workout clothing and my hair has been washed. But then again, there is an open bottle of wine downstairs that needs company and the rest of me needs showering. Plus my neck is itching and I need to find my hair elastic which is probably in the pocket the pants I slept in last night which look awfully comfortable...

As you can see, I'm not making a hell of a lot of headway here.

Are you still there?

HELLO! Here I am! My name is Jen! tap tap tap IS THIS THING ON?

Hm. Let's try this again.

Greetings! Anyone there? Do you remember me? I'm that person who used to post regularly with witty and hilarious stories about my daily mishaps (adjectives mine). That seems to have gone by the wayside a bit. Sorry about that. From the amount of hate mail (both real and imagined) in my box that say things like, "YOU REPUGNANT SHREW. UPDATE." you would think that my lack of blogging was contributing to both Global Warming and the leggings trend that seems to persist despite my hatred. My apologies. I didn't know my own powers.

I sat down today to write and realized that I hadn't flexed that muscle for a while. It cramped in a way I can only describe as tragic, so I backed away from my computer and went to make some tea and stretch in the hopes that something intelligent and sparkling would come out. You'll have to let me know how I do.

So Angie's wedding happened on Friday and it's taken me almost this long to recover. AND NOT EVEN FROM THE OPEN BAR I'll have you know. I was remarkably well behaved which is worth noting because, well, OPEN BAR. Everything went off without a noticeable hitch and Angie is now wed to Mike and they are off to live a long and happy life together with their two cats and collection of Transformers. Seriously. But apparently I'm an aged and easily fatigued woman since I spent most of the weekend working on making a believable ass imprint on my couch. And I succeeded! HURRAH! Also, I made a considerable dent in my Tivo cache. See? I can be productive and lazy all at the same time. Ingenious, I know. Regardless, their wedding was an incredible way to spend a Friday. And I'll have you know that I wore nearly five inch heels and didn't fall down once. The bride didn't fare as well - she brought comfortable shoes to wear to the reception and still ended up on her ass. So I felt particularly smug when I honestly answered "NO!" to all of my clients who asked, "BUT DID YOU FALL?" They seemed so disappointed. Jerks.

So now I'm gearing up for wedding #2, that of my niece Heidi to her fiancee Scott. This takes place in a few weeks in San Diego which means travel! Yay! I was driving by the airport Monday night and my car inadvertently veered towards its exit. I screamed "GAH!" and pulled the steering wheel to the left so as to continue on. Once my passengers settled down from their coronaries, I explained that it seems odd not to be heading TO the airport when in such close proximity. I've always loved to GO places, but this wanderlust has reached a higher than normal peak in the past two years. I crave stamps on my passport.

And it would seem that fall decided to appear out of no where. I'm sitting in my office in a parka wondering how long I'll be able to hold out until putting on the heater. I might just go ghetto and light up my discarded stories in a trash bin by my feet. I live right by a fire station, so they could just aim the hose over the fence should things go awry. But Sweet Moses, I was just wearing shorts last week and suddenly the leaves have changed and the days are dishonest. They are full of skidding clouds and ethereal breezes that coax you outside only to get dumped on an hour later, too far from home to grab the coat you left hanging by the front door - we've officially slid into autumn.

So more later. I'll be better about updating. If only for the environment. In the meantime, stay warm.

I need to let the leggings thing go, I realize.

I was in Santa Barbara this weekend as, apparently, I start to get itchy if I'm not going somewhere, anywhere, far, far away every couple of weeks. It was fun, albeit short as I was in LA the night before and after. It was a mini SoCal tour of sorts, you see. I like to dip in and out before I get too tarnished by the locals. I've seen so many abuses of the dreaded legging this weekend that I feel as though perhaps I should just give in a write a five paragraph essay about how insulting leggings are to, ahem, legs, and women and MY EYES! MY EYES! and humanity as a whole. I only saw one woman sporting the trend who didn't look like a jackass, and I'm pretty sure if I could figure out how she managed that, I would be a step closer to solving the issue of world peace.

So where was I? Ah, yes! Santa Barbara...thank you.

So I was in Santa Barbara this weekend at a birthday dinner for my friend Andrea. I was talking to one of the guys at the table and conversation had veered towards vacation and I lamented that I needed about five days on a beach somewhere to give my head a rest from my life. And! how I was sad that winter was approaching because that would mean the loss of my tan and OH MY GOD I'm boring myself recounting this conversation. He looked at me quizzically and raised and eyebrow and said, "Wait? You mean you're able to tan?" And I'LL HAVE YOU KNOW that I'm currently quite dark. For me. Which means that safety goggles are not required when looking directly at my face to shield you from the rather awesome glare that usually comes off of my lily white skin. So I replied, "Dude. I could practically pass for a native right now." And then we took a picture together and I was just this white smudge on the left hand side - sort of like an apparition that's only noticeable as this queer glow in the corner of photos. The person who took the picture is quite possibly still blind, poor thing. The guy laughed and said, "You look like whatever is haunting that house in Paranormal Activity." So naturally I kicked him in the shins and pushed birthday cake up his nose.

So I'm now waiting to head to the airport in the hopes that my flight home is as uneventful as my trip down here was. Of course, now that I've said that, I'm screwed and will most likely end up flashing the TSA agents while going through security. I'll let you know how it goes.

I ought to come with caution tape

OH MY GOD. It's mid-October and I've barely posted for the latter half of this year and I'm having mild panic attacks about everything that is going on until December is over. I never thought I'd say this, but I'm going to breathe a gigantic sigh of relief come 2010. I feel pulled in so many directions and would happily dismember myself if that would mean getting more done, but I'm afraid you'd just find all of those pieces rolled into several separate fetal positions, unrolling intermittently to take long, healing sips of tequila.

BUT! I'm pretty happy as I received the shoes that I'm going to wear for Angie's wedding today and they are A-MAZING. I mean really - I'll be over six feet tall in them which brings me unparalleled joy. And also greatly increases my chances of severe physical injury, but I'll at least look good whilst being wheeled into the ER.

We had bachelorette party #2 for Ang this weekend which meant that the girls and gays converged on a spa in the Castro (called Hand Job! which begs for some puns but I'm just too tired. Someone else take that) and then proceeded to be very, VERY loud at a restaurant, Limon, in San Francisco. I was seated at a banquette, surrounded on several sides by people and decided that the most efficient way to get in and out would be to go under the table because I'm breathtakingly dexterous. Why go through these gymnastics, you ask? Well, I had forgotten to don my Stadium Gal and my bladder was shouting, "ATTEND! ATTEND!" and I'm nothing if not obedient.

I managed to get in and out with little damage to either myself or the table, which is somewhat miraculous. I teetered down the stairs with my friend Jason behind me, because ladies always go to the bathroom together. I suppose I'm a more efficient pee'er than he is, or he got distracted by his reflection in the mirror - hard to say. Either way, he finally came out and we strolled down the hall to go back upstairs to the party, me in the lead and Jason behind.

Let me start by mentioning that Limon has a polished concrete floor, which looks fabulous. I turned to tell Jason this, because the gleam of the lights off of the floor was really quite fetching. As I turned, my left heel sort of bent to the right and in a spectacular combination of blond hair, legs and arms, I flew a few feet to the right and landed with a sickening thud at Jason's feet. He looked down at me in shock and squealed, "GIRL! What are you DOING? NOT CUTE!" I popped back up, grabbed his arm and said, "HOLY SHIT!" and then rushed up the stairs. Once we were back under the table and in our seats and Jason had relayed what had just transpired to everyone who would listen he said to me, "I'm sure no one saw...you got up so FAST!" To which I replied, "I'M OVER SIX FEET IN THESE HEELS AND I FELL IN FRONT OF THE OPEN KITCHEN. I think EVERYONE saw!"

But that's okay since in my long, tedious line of falls, that one really wasn't the most memorable.
Though the bruises along my upper thigh and on my knee beg to differ. Also, I can't use my left hand - I've been typing this entry with my right index finger since Sunday. Also, I keep hobbling away from Marc who wants to slap a leech on my bruises to see if it will quicken the healing process. Also, where is that healing tequila?