A New 'Do

I can be a bit rigid when picking a hairdresser. My last few were women in their forties. Call me crazy but give me the twenty-something with purple streaks in her hair. I think they are more willing to take risks and will make sure you don't look boring. Since I am new in town, I was kind of flying blind. I noticed my co-worker Laura has really cute highlights so I bit the bullet and asked for her hairdresser's number. I walked in to the salon this morning to discover my stylist was a twenty-something with a purple wash to her dark hair. Jackpot!


Along with a new base color and highlights, the girls in the shop offered up advice on local bars and clubs. What more can you ask for? I love one-stop shopping!

The Sex And The City Movie: A Second Look

** SPOILER ALERT** (Although if you haven't see the movie yet, why are you reading this??? We probably aren't friends anyways.)

I was not in a great mindset the first time I watched the Sex and the City movie. I went to see it with the live-in girlfriend of the guy I had been seeing just days after I broke the news to her that the guy she had moved across the country to be with was a cheating bastard. Yeah... you read that last sentence correctly. Needless to say, there was more drama going on off-screen and neither of us were too open to the dirtbag antics of the men in the movie.

I wasn't very quiet in the movie theater. When Big stood Carrie up at the wedding, I snorted my disapproval. I actually shouted "Bullshit!" when Steve told Miranda that he cheated on her because they hadn't had sex in a long time. And when I realized that Miranda was going to go ahead and meet Steve on the bridge, I started yelling "Don't do it, girl!" I know Christen was ready to stuff me under the seat.

Miranda has always been my favorite character, although I cursed the writers the last few seasons when they saddled her with a whiny-ass slacker bartender and a kid. Seriously? Miranda was a Harvard educated attorney and the best they could come up with for her was Steve?

I was in Target the other day, and noticed that the movie was now out on DVD. Since I own all the seasons of the show, I decided to round out my collection and give the movie another chance.

I must admit, the movie was much better this time around. Yeah... the wedding scene still makes me cringe from how raw the emotion is. I still hate Steve and think his affair is bullshit but this time I noticed how happy Miranda's face was on the bridge. She learned to forgive and seemed like be ready to move on to a better stage of her relationship with Steve. The strength of all the womens' friendships and how they supported each other through hearbreak and happiness stood out to me much more with this viewing. And that is what was always the backbone of the show.

Having said that... I still would have left that bastard Steve standing alone on the bridge. Dirtbag!

Daughter Of The Year Award

The weather has been INSANE here the last few days: gale force winds, grey clouds and pouring rain.


Mom called last night to make sure all was well. A brief snippet:

Mom: I saw that you have some pretty high winds down there.
Me: Yeah, it makes driving fun. I almost got blown off the road a few times.
Mom: Well, hunker down. Try staying off the beach. The riptides are going to be pretty strong. Just in case, you know, you get the urge to go skinny-dipping again.
(insert a few seconds of awkward silence as I try not to choke on my plum wine. Candace later comments on the lovely shade of green I turned at that moment.)
Mom: You know... I do read your blog, dear.

Heh heh... ummmm... hi mom!

Welcome to the Island: LOST edition

This was actually a very tough decision this week. There are so many choices when it comes to the men of LOST. The fact that Henry Ian Cusick (Desmond) didn't make either of our picks attests to that fact. I had to go with Naveen Andrews (Sayid). One hot mutha (shut your mouth fool). He is also loyal and can maim, torture, or kill pretty much anyone who crosses his path. And the hair, wow! As Roadtripper said, I already know he knows his way around an island but he is just as good looking off of it:

Welcome to the Island Naveen, I think you will like this one much better.

Welcome To The Island: The LOST Edition

Let me start this blog post with a warning: Candace and I are enjoying a bottle (or 2) of plum wine with our sushi this evening. My normal writing skills might be a little impaired.

Allow me to present the latest addition to the island: Josh Holloway (aka Sawyer) from LOST. I usually don't care for dirty rednecks but I will make a major exception for this type of perfection. This man is gorgeous. The abs, the dimples, the hair begging to have my fingers running through it, the crystal eyes, the jawline... and did I mention the abs?


We already know how well this man fairs on an island anyways so he will fit right in on ours, no nasty plane crash necessary. Welcome to the island, Josh Holloway.

Kids Say The Darndest Things (Especially When They Are 19 Year Old Marines)

Conversations between myself and one of my students today:

Him: You aren't retired military like the rest of the instructors, are you, ma'am?
Me: No. I just did one tour in the Army and have been a contractor ever since.
Him: Figures... all the pretty girls are in the Army.
Me: Make sure you put your name and information on the roster.
Him: Okay... but I don't know my unit's duty phone number.
Me: That's fine. Just put the name of your unit in that block. We'll make sure you get credit.
Him: Maybe I should just put my cell number there... for you... so... you can like call me... you know... if you wanted to... ma'am.

I am not sure if I should be flattered or horrified that a 19 year old managed to hit on me and call me ma'am in the same sentence. I think these kids have watched too many repeats of "Top Gun". Well, I am no Kelly McGillis (although the fishnets stockings she rocked in her classroom were the shit!)



Come to think of it, that kid has probably never even seen "Top Gun" since it came out before he was even born. Pardon me while I go cry in to my Bloody Mary.

Psssssst: I have to admit... it was kind of sweet and my head barely fit through the door for the rest of the day.

Searching For My Doppelganger

Scientists say that everyone has a twin. Apparently mine is right here in this area. Last week, I was intercepted at the local grocery store by a woman asking me how my kids and husband were. When I told her that I wasn't who she thought I was, she didn't seem to believe me and might of even gotten offended. A few days later, when I opened the door for the cable lady, she exclaimed "Girl... when did you move out here?" Last night I stopped by a local bar where several of the patrons mistook me for her.

From what I have gathered, my doppelganger's name is Kelly and she lives out on Emerald Isle. I just hope she isn't a skank and doesn't owe anyone any money! Funny thing is, I bet we don't even look that much alike.... but it would still be interesting to meet her.

Dirtbag Alert: The Aging Frat Boy

I hated frat boys in college. I only went to their damn parties for the free booze. As I sipped my Pabst Blue Ribbon in a smokey corner surrounded by grunting drones in pukka shell necklaces and Abercrombie cargo shorts, I kept telling myself that someday I would be out in the real world with real men whose life's ambition couldn't be found at the bottom of a beer bong.




Fast forward almost a decade to discover that the guys really haven't changed much. There is a another breed stalking poor unsuspecting women in bars. The Aging Frat Boy still roams in packs. They still tell fart jokes and quote Adam Sandler and Ben Stiller movies with glee. And they still wear those damn pukka shell necklaces and cargo shorts!

But that isn't the worst part. They never reach for their wallets when the bill comes; dates usually end in a half-ass offer to go Dutch. That is, if they even plan an actual date anyways; most of the time it comes down to "Why don't you come over and watch a movie?" (ladies... we all know what that is frat boy-ese for.) When this is all pointed out, they usually fall back on the old stand by of "Well, isn't this what you womens' libbers wanted?" Okay... where is the mens' lib then? If women are becoming more self-sufficient and taking over traditional male roles, why do the men throw temper tantrums and accuse you of emasculation when asked to be more compassionate and caring? I don't want to have to bring home the proverbial bacon, fry it up in the pan and then spend an hour cleaning the kitchen afterward while an aged frat boy sits on the couch playing the latest version of World of Warcraft.

Thanks, but no thanks. Dear Readers... I offer you a glimpse in to my future: