My emotions have been hijacked and a crisis averted.

I just watched last week's Grey's Anatomy. It involved old people. I cannot handle old people dying or being sad or freaking pumping the heart of their significant other after they sign the Do Not Resuscitate Form but have changed their minds when the SO is actually dying. I watched the first few episodes of ER way back when but stopped watching when too many old people died on the show. I'm not ashamed to watch and like Grey's Anatomy but I'm here to say I will stop watching their stupid show if more old people die on it. I cannot handle old people dying.

You know how after some cries, especially ones induced due to sappy tv shows or movies, you feel cathartic? Like you needed it in some way? I do not feel that way now. I feel mad. And pissed. And incredibly sad. I CANNOT handle old people dying.

On the bright side I gave my MOH toast at the wedding this weekend. It went pretty well I think. I was a little drunk afterwards and demanded praise for it. I'm not quite as annoying now, although I'll still take praise, but I was pretty worried about sounding like an idiot. I had a story to tell that was incredibly appropriate, but I really, really wanted to do the bride justice by telling it right. I didn't want to half-ass it and make the bride wish I'd said something better. I'm a little concerned I didn't praise her enough. Everything that I am - she's the opposite. I think because of that I respect and admire her more than I would if she were more like me. Because I know how easy it is to say and do all the wrong things (me) and how very hard it is to be patient and nice and forgiving and generally awesome (her). So if I didn't say it enough then - to you, B, may he make you happier than you can ever imagine you deserve. And may the rest of us beat him down if he doesn't!

Oh and she'll never read this because I'll forget to remind her by the time she comes back from her two weeks (wtf??) in Tahiti. I hate them.

Perpetual Fear of Hair Death

Shannon mentioned in a comment how she thought I'd be able to understand, above all others, the sense of dread and fear that comes over a person when he or she finds out their beloved stylist is moving on to greener pastures, i.e. not somewhere they could follow, tail wagging pathetically.

And I do understand.

I had my hair styled and poofed and colored within an inch of its life last weekend. My stylist was very excited about some avant garde work she'd submitted for some industry award. She talked about how winning the award will put her work in every industry mag and possibly get her some crazy editorial content job for fashion mags and a whole host of other potential star-making endeavors that I tuned out.

I should have been happy for her. And at first I was. I should have been proud that MY stylist was so artsy and good and all that jazz. And at first I was. Until. Until it started to sink in that if she became all fancy and wanted and everything, she'd leave me. That's when the fear and slight waves of panic took me over. I guess that's what Brian Austin Green must have felt like when Megan Fox got her Transformers gig. Or whatever it was that she did first that made her a name. Happiness that leads to dread over the realization that the other person will eventually leave you? Worst. feeling. ever.

So Brian Austin Green - you can come sit with me. I'll understand. I might have roots down to my shoulders and split ends up my back, but damnit, I'll feel you.

Explain god's people to me.

How can a person (or people) go around quoting scripture and be WWJD all over the place and still get the big stuff so fucking wrong?

I'm not into god or all that spirituality stuff (although if I keep getting scared by ghost shows I might have to revisit some things), but I'm down with Jesus.* He was a cool enough guy I guess. Or, at least, the version people created was cool enough. So why do certain people spend their lives memorizing bible verses, decorating their houses with crosses, making cookies for church groups, and all that good "christian" stuff but still not get what the whole thing is about?

Here's what I have to say about it all: I'm rubber and you're glue. Whatever you say bounces off me and sticks to you. Bastard.**

*I'm referring to Christian gods in this post because I'm specifically referring to Christians. I'm down with some of the other dieties as well.

**I can't say all the details I really want to say because there's a very slight chance someone might read this. And although I'm right about the thing I'm right about, I'm nice enough to not destroy certain people over it.

Since I need it and this is a horrible post to end the week on:



You're welcome.

And it's out.

I have a new niece. Her name is Chloe Grace. J has enlightened me on the problems that arise from naming a kid a virtue, so there's that. But the Chloe part is nice. And I'm fairly certain my brother and SIL don't know who the Kardashians are - another good point.

She weighed in at 8 lbs, 14 oz. She's huge! And she's 21" long. That's long, right? I mean, I wouldn't want an almost 2 foot long thing inside of me. (I wouldn't want any kind of "thing" inside me but that's another topic altogether.)

She was all puffy and stay-puff-mashmellow-manish and she had an eerie purple glow about her, but by the time we started to leave the hospital in the evening she was beginning to look like a normal baby.

FYI: don't go look in the nursery when the baby makes their first trip there. The mean nurses stick utensils up the baby's butt, poke them with sharp needles, and scrub their poor, little head with a loofa. Boo to mean baby nurses! I wonder what they shoot them with? Rana - any help? I never knew babies got a shot immediately after they were born.

My brother has 5 kids now. Take a moment to ingest that. 5 kids. It's completely bizarre. They were all there at the hospital for pictures and introductions and what not. It was a nice scene.

And then. I won't go into the details but suffice to say that I love my mother and she is a much better person than I will ever be. Don't get me wrong, she's completely batshit crazy sometimes, but I know I can never have the patience and strength that she has. She's a much better person than me. As I sat in the backseat of our car (filled with my mom, my dad, my oldest nephew, and my grandmother), completely filled with rage and practically bruising myself to keep my mouth shut, I gained a whole new level of respect for my mom. My dad better not give her cancer with his goddamned cigar smoking. (That last bit was a completely unrelated aside.)

So there were some highs yesterday and there were some serious lows. I'm choosing the forget the lows and focus on the highs. Yea a baby! Yea a newfound respect for the mom! Yea a baby!

And um, is it wrong that I want to hug and kiss the baby and make her love me more than anyone else? I don't want to breastfeed her or buy her clothes or anything but unadulterated, compulsive love? Yeah, I'll take that.

I suck

Who else feels like ass because they watched the entire American Idol Gives Back, in hopes of seeing Brad Pitt un-uglified, cried at all the sad bits, and was too cheap/lazy to donate even a dollar? God I suck. Saddest parts? When they showed the 15 year-old who had to take care of his 3 younger brothers because their parents died. It was like Party of Five but in Africa and with waaay worse dilemmas than whether to take over the family restaurant or not. I can deal with all the other heartbreak the show had to offer but the kid playing parent? I lost it.

It really makes worrying about a DHEA imbalance lame in comparison... (It's possible the DHEA worry was lame before it was put into comparison with other horrors.)

On a completely different note, I rode the bus to work today for the first time ever. It was okay. The only downside is getting up earlier than normal but I really would love a less rushed morning, so maybe I can manage. My route is filled with college students all going to campus (the bus cuts through campus to get downtown), and it made me semi-wistful for my college days. You couldn't pay me enough to relive them socially (fun but I couldn't stand to do it again), but I loved, loved, loved all the classes and books and learning. I'm sure it wouldn't be the same though. You can never go home, eh?

Speaking of old class days, my law school is having it's 5 year reunion this weekend. I'm boycotting. I would rather go to my high school reunion than my law school reunion, and that's saying a lot since I refused to go to the former as well. I sincerely hated law school. It was petty and shallow and I'm fairly certain learning "the law" in that corporate-preparing environment killed not only part of my soul but a large part of my brain as well. The only good things I got out of law school are: the ability to argue both sides of a point, 3 amazing friends (more that went to law school but I didn't know them there), a J.D., and a whole lotta good debt to mask my bad debt.

Moral of the story? Don't go to law school to change the world. Donate money to American Idol Gives Back instead.

It must be Monday.

Guilt!!!!!!!!!! Is a horrible thing. Brief story some of you already know: Sis-in-law's 3rd kid + baby shower + invite came a week ahead of time + she lives in town 2 hours away + I'm not going + big fight with mom = GUILT.

I wasn't feeling the guilt, only righteous indignation at the aforementioned big fight with mom, but when I sent out all the emails RSVPing in the negative and apologizing to SIL, my mom's shitty ass guilt trip is starting to work. She apologized for the nasty words said in the fight and she's even picking up the flowers I ordered (in lieu of attendance - I try to be nice) and taking them to the shower. But even her good deeds are laced with guilt. See? She's the good family member - going to the shower and even picking up my pseudo-gift to bring along with her. *sigh* My boobs are starting to sweat. Apparently guilt-induced cleavage sweat. Gross and gross.

To add to the gloriousness of today I just now realized I have my cardigan on inside out. Nice. I've talked with lots of people today and no one has pointed it out to me. I'm going to wear it like this for the rest of the day in defiance of all the fuckers who don't tell you you have spinach in your teeth. Fuck those people. (I'm displacing anger here, in case you needed an explanation.)

To guilt or not to guilt?

Where is the line between being a total sociopath and not giving a rat's ass about people and actually not caring because caring about stupid shit is stupid? Furthermore, where is the line between not giving a damn and the guilt that comes when you realize you don't give a damn about things like old people and diabetes and what not?

For instance, I just recently read that this old American Idoler has Type I diabetes and has had it for I don't know how many years. My reaction? Click. My thoughts? I wish TMZ was more interesting lately.

A second shining example of my extreme apathy for the cares of humankind came yesterday when I was talking to my grandmother. My great-aunt (her sister) bought some bedside tables for someone who didn't want them. They thought the tables would look good in my bedroom so suggested I come and take them. Not only did I not take them last weekend when I was there (although they would look good), I was annoyed at having the tables pawned off on me, which is an especially wrong attitude to have since I'm poor and cheap. So I thought about the tables when I got home, evaluated my bedroom furniture, and called my grandmother to tell her I'd take the tables next time I came to visit. The whole point of this long diatribe is that after our table discussion she just kept. on. talking. I was done, but she wasn't. She talked about the local news (for which I care not), her friends, the weather, etc., etc., etc. I kept saying, "okay, well, I'll see you in couple weekends..." only to have her talk more.

It was excrutiating and now I'm feeling the pangs of guilt over being such a bad granddaughter. I mean it seriously would not hurt me to talk on the phone for 10 minutes, would it? No. And do I think my disinterest is not immediately interpreted by my grandmother? No. I'm a lame, lame, lame (3 lames, George Clooney would object) person. And I will probably pay via bad karma (I had to change my word usage there because I couldn't figure out how to put karma into adverb form). Sigh.

And yet. I'm really adept at pushing guilt aside for the more literate argument of "oh well." Who does that? Now I'm feeling guilty over my ability to avoid guilt. Geez. It's a never-ending cycle. Ah well. I'll just drink an extra glass or two of water from the faucet tonight so I can get some extra pharmaceuticals in my system.

I'm having stylist guilt...

On odd months I go to my stylist to get my hair cut. On even months I go to a different colorist to get my hair colored. They're at two different salons, know about the other, but do not know each other. Last time I got my hair colored I decided I was going to seek out a different place. That salon was too pricey and my face looked red due to bad blonde highlights. (It's quite possible I'm going through a blotchy phase but I prefer to put the blame on others. It's easier to make it through the day.)

So I found a new colorist. It's a Bumble & Bumble salon which is supposed to be cool because: a) they give you samples of all the B&B products they use each time and b) they spend at least one day a week training to keep abreast of new techniques. Oh and did I mention much more affordable?

Due to the dental drama from last week, I had to spend my hard-earned, budgeted, haircut money on a damned cavity. Boo to the nth degree. This month, being an even month, I only have enough $$ for the color and not the cut. But I really need a haircut since I didn't get one last month. See my dilemma? I need a haircut and a color and I only have dollars for a color. Or a cut. What's a stylish girl to do?

Here's where the excellent deal at the new place comes in. Apparently I can get a cut and a color at the new place for what I paid for a color at the old place. So I can get two services for the price of one. Only it means I can't go to my lovely stylist whom I love dearly. I'm feeling the guilt. I went ahead and made an appointment for both services at the new salon and I'll get back on my odd month = haircut schedule next month but until then? I feel like I'm cheating. I've broken up with my old colorist and moved on to someone new. But I don't want to break up with my stylist. I still love and adore her. I'm just plain, old cheating because it's easy and convenient. Ack! I'm sick. And guilty.