So, let's all cross our fingers that when I show up at the place Wednesday I'll be welcomed into the open arms of my own forlorn and beloved Meghan and not some other weirdo Megan with whom I'll be forced to make awkward small talk. I have enough awkward talk in my future, I need to conserve my energy.
Ok hairs, listen up–
Below are your instructions. You should study up so you can prepare for your new life. It really isn't very different from your life now except all your grown out layers will be back in action. This is what happens when I don't take care of you for two years. Now be a good girl and continue to grow into a long long mermaid shirt for my hippy boobs.
It's pretty much what my hair looks like now except trimmed up and with bang layers. This bodes well. Nothing dramatic.
I tried to do this to my hair this morning >>
which was going swimmingly right up to the point when I was pinning the last piece in place.
Every single hair on my head was suddenly like BITCH NO. To whit, I am now rocking a gigantarific ombre Hermione ponytale. Yippe-kai-A motherfuckers!
So. Hurry up next Wednesday.
Also happening this weekend:
Unless I get lazy, in which case I will focus on my number one priority– super glueing my favorite shoes back together. Sure, some bloggers buy fancy sparkly new high heels for blogher! Not your ol' spacklelips here. I'm take a pair with a hole in the sole (that I fill with dope). Awww, poor poor comfortable things! Get mama through one more weekend and then I promise I'll put you to rest forever in the best shoe graveyard.
Because I have learned zero lessons about being a woman, or at least because I refuse to heed them, I'm using a new face treatment right before an event. Stupid, stupid. I know, it's like getting a spray tan the day before prom. DON'T!
But, on the brighter side is since it's Philosophy not only have there not been direly hideous consequences my face is suddenly like BAM, HOTTNESSSS.
Would I recommend? Ohyes. Good stuff. Especially if you're hovering the 30 and still experiencing the joy of breakouts.
My skin says FINALLY, thank you! and I in return say, stop looking stupid.
I can't stop listening to Girl Talk. I can't! CAN'T! I should probably be embarrassed but I can't do that either because it's just the most perfect going-to-a-party music. And I'm going to a party, give or take a few days. Constant Girl Talk soundtrack. Do not shame me.
It was one of those things like it always is where I was all, "Huh. Ew THAT? NO. Stupid. Gross..." and I turned up my snortle nose and then before you know it I can't get enough fucking Girl Talk. In case you ever wanted to know what's happening inside my head every second, it's that.
All the fears I have about blogher? It's this exactly, which is also a great read. There are all kinds of bizarre dynamics to the blog world that outsiders don't see. It happens in every community, even my own beloved twitter.
I feel a lot of pressure to have the SUPER BEST TIME EVER because I'm taking what is essentially a vacation without my family and it's so incredibly selfish. It feels like if I'm going to do it the whole thing better be FUCKING FANTASTIC beyond all reason. Which is well, unrealistic. I've been down that expectation road before and I know better. I'm focused on just relaxing and having fun because otherwise is total suicide.