Tuesday, July 26, 2005

Wax On, Wax Off

Disclaimer: Not a chick? Then you may not care to read this entry.

So I walked into my favorite nail salon on Friday in need of a wax. Not an eyebrow wax. The Wax. I haven't gotten The Wax since last summer. Don't get me wrong, I'm no Bush Girl. I trim Delores. (I don't have a name for my "down there" region. That's just want my friend Jill and I used to say when discussing hygiene.)

Anyway, so I was going to get The Wax. Let me give you the play-by-play 'cause it was v. interesting.

Wax Lady: You want p*ssy wax or bikini wax?
Me: Huh?
Wax Lady: P*ssy wax or bikini wax?
She said the "P" word! OMG...
Me: Bikini, please.
Wax Lady: I try something else you like.
Me: No, I'd just like a bikini wax please.
Wax Lady: You like. Just lie down.
Me: I'm scared.
Wax Lady: Don't be scared. Rriiippp!
Me: Ow!
Rriiippp! Rip! Riipp!
Wax Lady: All done!
I glance down, as I feverishly slide on my panties and skirt. There's what looks like a hairy race track on my crotch. Whatev. What's done is done.
Me: Thanks! Can I please get my eyebrows waxed? Not too thin!
Wax Lady: Sure!
Riip! Rip! There's something about an eyebrow wax I like. Maybe it's the masochist side of me just longing to be noticed. But "down there"? I do not enjoy that. It hurts like a mo-fo.
Wax Lady: All done! $15, please!
I give her a $20.
Me: Can I please have $1 back?
She gives me back a $5.
Me: But that was my tip! Don't you want it? I don't need the $1. You can keep the $5.
Wax Lady: It's OK! Good for business!
Me: No! Take it! I want to tip you.
Wax Lady: No tip! Here, take nail polish.
She shoves a box of assorted polishes at me.
Me: I don't need nail polish! I just want to tip you!
Wax Lady: No tip. Take polish! Gift! There. Pretty color. See you next time!
Me: Um, well, thank you! I'll be back!

What a weird experience. The racing strip is slowly growing on me...haha, literally!

Friday, July 22, 2005

BFF For Life?

Having friends in your 20s is no easy feat. You were only friends with those you were friends with in high school because, basically, if you wanted a social life, you didn't have much of a choice. Then if you went the traditional route, you went to college. You tried for maybe a year to keep in touch with your HS buddies, but it just got too tough, so eventually, you stopped trying. With the exception of a small handful perhaps.

Once at college, maybe you're thrown into a 9x12 dorm room with a girl you're forced to get along with, a girl with whom you'd normally never socialize. You get to know the girls and guys on the floor (if you're lucky, you've landed on a co-ed floor), and you soon realize that everyone's just not going to like you. You can try to make as many friends as you want, but they have to chose you, too.

Perhaps you join a sorority and gain 150 friends. You move into the Greek house with the white columns, only this time, it dawns on you that some people may not like you, but you may not like everyone else either. You learn that alcohol is beneficial in forming friendships. You may be chillin' with that Gamma Gamma Gamma chick over a keg of Natty Light. It dawns on you that you both love the same shade of lip gloss and that you've both recently shacked up with that Beta Beta Beta hottie. Voila. Instant best friends!

Then you graduate from college, and you're painfully aware that you'll most likely never be all together again. You may reunite at the occasional wedding, but it won't be the same. You're off to move to some city because you got that dream job (if you're lucky), with no idea how you'll have a life outside of work, because essentially, you don't know a soul. Slowly you build up your social circle for the third time, and everyone's flitting around, searching for Mr. Right, trying to keep in touch with old friends, trying to make new friends, and you just don't know who'll be your friends for life.

You make friends with coworkers, who then move on and get better jobs, and slowly you lose touch. Meantime, you're still struggling to hang on to that handful of HS and college friends who live across the country. You chat on the phone every other month. Sometimes it's awkward, and sometimes you can pick up right where you left off. Perhaps those are the friendships for life.

Truthfully? I still don't know who my bridesmaids will be. I think about it from time to time, and it always changes. I haven't had what you call "a BFF" in four years, so I have what I call "several BFFs." Some join the circle, some drift away, but someone is always there. But there's just no guarantee who'll be there forever.

Tuesday, July 19, 2005

If A Writer Has No Words, She Has Nothing!

I've been suffering from severe writer's block lately. I've been wanting to write a song...nada. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that I only know three chords and don't really know how to write music. I tried singing a song to the tune of an angry villanelle I wrote three years ago, but the verse, "Another thing, your mouth did taste quite bland, Your frame was no DaVinci work of art, Distinguish beauty so we understand," just didn't quite work. My journal's not appealing, which I can chalk up to the fact that I'm simply a self-seeking gal who likes her words to be read. Why grow flowers if not to be seen? How Shakespearean of me.

Saturday, July 16, 2005

I've Secretly Spoken For All of Womankind

Glamour's take on body language:
If he plays air guitar, it actually means: "I wouldn't mind turning these fast fingers on you. Maybe I can make my move before you sober up and realize I'm just an overgrown frat boy."

It's about time I sobered up. No more faux rock stars for moi.

Thursday, July 7, 2005

At the ripe, old age of 26...

Realistic things that I hope happen within the next three years:
1. I plan to take more guitar lessons, followed by a miniscule amount of voice lessons.
2. I will write and produce a rockin' song on ChloƩ and sing it in front of a small, intimate, not-too-mean audience. (The Butterfly Homicide LP is indeed a possibility.)
3. I will start my novel titled Three Months (That's How Long Infatuation Lasts). It will be a fiction chick-lit book, loosely based on all of you. ;)
4. I will become involved in a grown-up relationship. With a boy. But I suppose that won't happen until I get the guts to start calling "boys" "men." And I don't see that happening anytime soon.
5. I plan to write a lengthy piece for Glamour. On what, TBD.
6. I will start my domestic-like recipe box. It's empty and is swiftly collecting dust.
7. You knew this was coming. But you know, I don't give two jars of peanut butter if I never lose 10 pounds. But I do plan to exercise REGULARLY and eat the sugar-free ice cream.
8. I'd better pay off that Visa. Credit cards are so addictive. And to think, I only wanted the free pair of sunglasses.
9. I will plan and take a vacation to a tropical-esque spot. Even if it's only Virginia Beach.
10. I will refrain from talking smack about my phenomenal poker skills and will learn how to bluff.

PS I'm so pissed that Lindsay Lohan named her new dumb dog ChloƩ. Fat bitch (not the dog).
Online Marketing