But I am a tired girl. So how about some pictures instead of words?
The view from my deck this morning:
… and tonight:
And the flowers I bought today:
The pashmina addiction wall at our home:
How are you guys?
Anything you’d like me to blog on?
Tired girl likes suggestions…
It’s not that I don’t love love.
I just love it EVERY DAY OF THE YEAR, rather than just the one. You know?
So, continuing last year’s tradition…
THINGS I HATE
Carnations
Constant snifflers
The term “smackdown”
Patchouli
“Pat pat pat” hugs
Banana-flavoured gum
Red-eye in photos
Black licorice
Margarine on popcorn
Sketchy dried-out baked goods in coffee shops
Anything ending in “Gone Wild”
The smell of burnt hair
The term “snark”
Too-short pants on men
The price of women’s shoes
When people believe everything they read on the Internet is true
The term “baby bump”
The absence of wifi
Greeting cards that make noise
Outlets that are too loose to hold the damn plug ESPECIALLY WHEN I AM VACUUMING
Reality TV that “doesn’t require writers”
Texting abbreviations
The phrase “ripped from the headlines”
Losing in fantasy pools, any sport
The colour “teal”
The use of the word “ho” to denote anything but a garden tool
Fake watermelon smell
“Hipster” anything
Wet jean hems that NEVER DRY
Corndogs
The return of the 80’s to fashion
And finally…
People who hassle single people about Valentine’s Day because it’s supposed to be depressing. What? No, keep your carnations.
I’m alllll good, G.
A comment on the StumbleUpon page reviewing my “Look at my boobs! I am very smart!” post, which was on feminine oversexualization:
(with a thumbs down)
“From the page: “look at my boobs! I am very smart!” i couldn’t see any pictures.”
Which is a gleeful reminder to me of all the “boob” traffic that heads here to deep disappointment each day.
MegFowler.com: Building you up to knock you down. :)
I’m obsessed with this song. I have been for years. And I don’t know why, except to say that… well, sometimes you just need to cut loose, right? Footloose!
But think of all the famous people that were in this movie… John Lithgow, Dianne Wiest, Kevin Bacon, Sarah Jessica Parker, Lori Singer…
Oh, wait. Never heard of Lori Singer? That’s okay. She was huge between ‘82 and ‘85. There’s a lot to forget in that period, including ALL THE SHOES IN THIS VIDEO.
The funny thing to me is that she is 50 years old now, and in my head, we’re the same age. Despite the fact that I was 10 when this came out, and she was 26.
And when the heck did Kevin Bacon get to be 50?
I was totally obsessed with these cats as a kid. Not in French, mind you, but hey… it feels more “cultured” to watch fluffy kittens play with toilet tissue if you do it bilingually.
So I woke up to a foot of snow this morning.
Well, in all honesty, I can’t really gauge what a foot of snow looks like, and I didn’t have a ruler, so I just ASSUMED it was a foot of snow because it ate my boot! Up past my ankle! Woo!
It was even kind of dry and fluffy, which was AWESOME. That’s not the kind of snow we get here at all. I always compare Vancouver snow days to living in a 7-Up Slurpee.
And true to form, that’s what it looks like outside now. Two hours and two degrees make ALLLL the difference.
(Unless the degrees are in Art History and Comparative Literature.)
Blech.
Also? My boots are SOAKING WET.
Also? PEOPLE KEEP POKING AT MY PUFFY COAT.
Also?
Wait, I don’t have another also. I’ll think of one, though.
Hey!
It’s freakin’ snowing!
Awesome!
(Buzz, not a word about my photos going outside the lines. What are you, a kindergarten teacher?)
Or sorta, at least:
I was kinda unprepared (thank you, phone camera.)
BUT! While I was out, I saw two fun things (taken with phone camera, too):
Oranges with pet names…
And EGGPLANT PENGUINS!
That’s just weird. Nutritious, yes. But weird.
And here’s me in a shot taken by Justine’s camera phone (in Justine’s glasses) while out with my peeps last night:
Elton, or chic? You decide.
The best part of last night was Catherine and I inadvertently ending up out for dinner at a pub that was ACTIVELY celebrating Robbie Burns Day. We laughed so hard, we could barely eat. It was AWESOME.
Singing! Dancing! Shouting!
YEAH!
WOO!
HEY!
Wanna vote for me at the Canadian Blog Awards?
Okay! Go here:
And want to vote for Angella, whom I love? Okay! Go here:
Best Blog Citizen (and she is!)
Oh yeah! And you should vote for Rebecca for Best Local Blog, too.
Whew!
1. That I’m currently involved with Tom Brady on the sly. Or maybe just that I’m a supermodel. Same difference.
2. That I had a catfight with Oprah Winfrey in the lobby of a Jack In the Box.
3. That I’m releasing a tell-all memoir about my experiences as an NHL rinkbunny.
4. That Angelina and Brad are planning to adopt me.
5. That I’m a CIA operative trying to infiltrate the Scientologists by stowing away in John Travolta’s plane… or Tom Cruise’s dimples.
6. That I’m going to rehab for my coffee addiction.
7. That someone caught grainy footage of me blogging with John Mayer.
8. That I’m a celebrity. Period.
So.
I got my hair cut.
Got the bangs. Yep.
Let me tell you: when you haven’t had proper bangs for like, A MILLION YEARS, they come as a bit of a shock. And when you go to blow dry your hair the next morning, you might forget how much they SPROINGGGG! from your head if you don’t blow dry them DOWN.
Well, there’s no “might” about it.
And they did SPROINGGGGG!
So keep in mind that my bangs are, in fact, longer than this (they go down below my eyebrows… never underestimate SPROINGGGG!), and less SPROINGGGGG!-y:
UPDATE: New Sproing-Free Shot:
Yep.
Kept the length, lots of layers, less SPROINGGGGG! than you think, and also less sorority than it appears in this photo (it doesn’t curl inward at all, it lies flat or flips out.) Trust me.
It’s good.
What WASN’T too good was getting it cut next to the woman who HACKED it off last time. I had to keep convincing the guy cutting my hair that the “bad lines” he was finding came from ANOTHER salon, yes. Another one.
But she kept staring at me nonethless, as though she knew she should resent me, but didn’t know quite why.
Sigh.
What ALSO isn’t that good is the way wind turns your bangs into mighty, mighty wings. Whoa.
But I’ll figure it all out soon enough…
