The Mind-Hair Connection

If you can't tell, I've been restless lately.
The kind of restless that makes me spend inordinate amounts of my time amusing myself and letting my hair go wild in an effort to offend as many people as possible. This is ironic because the person I offend most by doing this is myself, as I can't stand the feeling of wearing what feels like a blanket of wild, curly sheep hair hanging in my face. I have found that when I wear my hair down I only manage to procure the effect of looking homeless-ly unkempt, channeling a '90's version of Nicole Kidman's hair, looking not even nominally attractive as I do it.

Evidence #1

Also, scrunching my nose doesn't help my face any. I see that now.
 
My hair is a continuous source of aggravation in my life. And now that I've brought it  up I find it difficult to stem the flow of complaints it inevitably causes me to deliver. I have forever envied the voluptuous, silky hair you so effortlessly grow on your head. It's so fuss-free as to be sinful: the less you wash it, the better it looks.
Thinking that perhaps the frizz and general unmanageability of my hair was due to all of the unpronounceable ingredients and chemicals placed in shampoos and hair products now a days, I attempted a product-free, "No-Poo" method of hair care which was almost as disastrous as the recent oil spill in the Gulf.

Remember this?

The end result is that I not only feel restless (and crazy), I look it. 
Life is so unfair.

The Art of Negotiation

Allright, I get it.
Neither of you are completely convinced.
Don't worry, there are options people.
Let's not be afraid to talk this out.

A: I will concede that for the prudish and money conscious people out there (ahem), the idea of going to a salon or spa to get a Brazilian wax and have a woman (or man, if you like) carefully scrutinizing your nether regions in order to get your vajazzle design "just right" might seem a bit intrusive and quite expensive.
Not to fret!
They sell do-it-yourself kits:
"Clitter!" - for those sparkly vaginas on a budget, you see.
Now I know what you're saying. "Crystal, that still doesn't solve the glitter spreading everywhere. Glitter is like the herpes of the craft world!"
That  may be. But seriously, who can argue with testimonials that shout from the rooftops, "Thanks Clitter for turning my labia into a YAYbia!" or "Clitter turned my yeast infection into a jewel collection!" 
(I'm not particularly concerned with the caution labels that say: "WARNING: Using Clitter while pregnant may result in sparkle babies." Who wouldn't love a baby that sparkles?! It would be like having tiny little baby vampires running around and sparkling in the sunlight. Cute!)



B. I know you might still have reservations about going "completely bare with a flair", or perhaps your Guy is a bit protective and hesitant to have anyone "working" on you down there.
Understandable.
Which is why I plan on encouraging him to come along!
"Guy," I would say, "I think you need to add some bling bling to your ding ding"...or dong dong - as the case may be.
(I don't know. How would I know? As a writer, you should know I strive for complete accuracy.)
Anyway, it's called Penazzling.

Obviously, I really struggled to find a good example of Penazzling. But you get the idea.
The one picture I did find showed a guy throwing what looked to be like a gang sign over his junk in an effort to block it out, which only emphasized the angry red bumps that were each and every hair follicle screaming, and likely burning, in angry protest. I would like to argue that, likely, he attempted to do it himself as no professional could possible be the cause of such angry red skin.
If necessary, though, to ensure your cooperation, I'll even talk to the salon and see if they can throw in a t-shirt for you.

C. Still not convinced? I will admit I never took into account that you're a European man at heart.
Perhaps you're the type of guy who's horrified to find his woman looking like a hairless chihuahua down there. (I know French women have hairy armpits, but what about the British ladies? I never thought to ask.)

So you don't like the idea of feeling like a child molester in the bedroom.
I get it.
But let's be honest. I am adaptable and over-the-moon creative, and I have a solution for that, too...
I know Jenny is secretly a hippie at-heart. (Has she confessed that to you yet? It took her three years before she'd admit it to me.) And perhaps I need to reconsider my approach.
So you both want to return to a "natural" state of being. I can totally dig that, too.
I hug trees every chance I get.
See?

Negotiation is, after all, about being willing to meet other people's needs without losing sight of your own goals. Luckily, I'm equally willing to embrace your more down-to-earth approach to style without compromising my original vision...

Head band is optional, of course.

Sparkle Party in Your Pants!

David saw a double rainbow at his work last week.
His co-worker next to him started screaming, "What does it mean?!"and David shouted and cried, "It's starting to turn into a triple rainbow!" (If you don't understand why this is funny, click here. Also, if you would like to hear my husband's ring tone, click here.)

The world is all a-glitter, I believe.
Two people in one week have asked me if I bedazzled my phone case.
No, I did not bedazzle my phone case. But if I had, it would have only been to spread joy and happiness into the world. The kind of happiness that only a double rainbow can bring.
And seeing as how I consider it my divine responsibility, as your best friend, to share this sparkly sunshine with you, I have decided that as a special gift to you, I shall throw a special party in England that will simultaneously marry the concept of sparkly happiness and "fresh, new beginnings".
And what could be more fresh or new than shaving off your pubic hair and giving your vajayjay a little sparkle?
Oh, no, you say?
Oh yeeesss.

We're gonna get vajazzled!!

Now, I know what you're thinking. And it doesn't hurt a bit. Although if you plan on having sex anytime soon after, it's not recommended, as the crystals tend to wander. One girl found them in her sheets, her hair, and one eventually made its way into her breakfast cereal bowl. I don't know if this has something to do with the adhesive or if she's just literally having sex in her dishwasher. Either way, they're mobile little critters. 

And if your Guy were to wake up "the morning after" with sparkles all around his mouth, I'm sure we'll all just blame the champagne. Nobody would possibly suspect.

Except me. I would! I would know, and I would definitely tell someone.

So anyway, I'm just telling you now so you have time to do a little research and pick out your design. 

And you know, Jenny, I saw this and thought of you....

(God, I would love to see you squirming right now! Bwahaha!...

Oh, uh, wait. That's not what I meant. Er...)

Posted 10:05am

Now that my mornings are free, having been returned to me as a promise of investment, it seems as if I were getting less done than ever before. It's as if the domesticated areas of my life that have been neglected for so long due to school work have, through my neglect, grown wild and untamable without my attention. Now that I have attention to pay them, they are strangling me in a carnivorous and cannibalistic attempt to be moved to the front of my day, top of my list, and consume my time.
I began to carry a notebook around for two days, documenting every action, errand, and task completed in intervals divisible by five, and five only.

6:30-7:00am - Attempt to get out of bed
7:00-7:40am - Get kids ready for school
7:40-8:15am - Drop kids off at school
8:20-8:40am - Walk Daisy
8:45-8:50am -  Laundry


I thought this was a great idea to hold myself accountable for how I used my time, see where I really spent most of my energy, and look for ways to cut inefficient uses of time (such as blogging) to get more done in a day. That is, until I began noticing that there were 5 minute increments missing throughout my day.
For example, look at the list and tell me what happened between coming home from dropping the kids off at school and leaving to go for a walk? And what was I doing between getting home from walking the dog and starting my laundry? Where do these invisible, undocumented increments of time go; these minutes that seem to be disappearing before they are even spent? This bothered me so much, that the following day I took even more care to document, to the minute, where I was losing my time (or maybe, my mind).
The discrepancy was even more horrendously apparent than I thought.
And I can come to only one very important conclusion: that you'd have to be fucking crazy to document how you spent every minute of your day and that it was in my best interest to stop right. the. fuck now. before I started concerning someone. Including myself. It's bad enough to know David has to deal with me on a day to day basis, which he does so patiently and lovingly, that I couldn't bear the thought of making him think I was even more crazier than he already knows I am.
That being said, it's taken 27 minutes to write this entry.

Groceries, budgets, and lifestyle quandries

Let's be utterly clear about something.
The only appealable quality to saving money is the thrill you feel when you acquire things through spending it.
In no way do I find any measure of satisfaction by seeing money in my bank account.
Don't get me mistaken. Every tax season, we always create a variety of ways the $6,500 return can be made to pay off the most amount of bills. I enjoy paying off debt, (when I had it.)
But on an every day basis, if I had $100 left over in a paycheck with nothing planned for it, you better believe the kids' wardrobe is getting updated, a teflon shedding plate is getting replaced in the kitchen, or the garden is growing with some plants, dirt, and fertilizer.

I'm not a total snob when it comes to spending money; I shop at Walmart to get a better deal, despite the the fact that it is responsible for accelerating the loss of American jobs over-seas, has been convicted of violating over 1,436 child labor laws, and is the number one importer of goods from China, with 70% of everything they sell coming from China. And if I had the choice of buying something on sale or not, of course, I'd love to buy it on sale. Though, to be honest, I know I could be more frugal. I'll purchase an item, even if it's not on sale.


You've been telling me for years that I spend too much on my groceries.
I've been arguing for years that your methods require sacrificing quality; you need to spend money if you want to eat well. (Just look at how expensive it is to eat organically.)
So when I watched the video you sent me about the cheapest family in America, I was only slightly approving of their methods.
Initially, I was downright appalled and indignant when I heard the family of 5 only spent $350 a month on groceries.
"This isn't realistic!" I said, as I stomped my foot.
"What about produce? That doesn't stay good for a month!"
Indeed, the mother could only admit that certain produce stays well for longer period, (items like apples, oranges, cabbage, celery, carrots).
But who only eat bananas, plums, strawberries, zuchini, broccoli, or any other highly perishable (and frequently on my grocery list) produce item once a month?
To me, this raises serious questions about their meal planning.
I also found it mildly distateful that they enthusiastically encourage families to purchase old pieces of meat that are about to be thrown out.
I struggle to come to terms with the fact that I continue to eat meat in the first place.
("If slaughter houses had glass walls, everyone would be a vegetarian"...in truth, becoming a vegetarian is my next big adventure.) So the idea of purchasing rotting flesh that is even more rotted than the rest is slightly repulsing to me.
Cutting coupons, doubling up on meals, and planning-planning-planning are all really useful tools.
But there's something seriously oppressive about clinging to your money so tightly that you're willing to stress over a carton of ricotta cheese determining which brand will allow you to save more pennies.
I'm all for living within a reasonable budget. I'm all for making sacrifices every now and then.
You don't have a family of five, live on a one income budget, and not know what it means to sacrafice.
I have to say that if I were desperate, then I would probably be more receptive and grateful for the message the Economides family is sharing.
But it's a lifestyle that extends far beyond the grocery store, and one that i'm only partially able to embrace.

That being said, I will share with you my latest grocery venture and see what you think about my purchases.

This is the result of one grocery shopping trip that came to the amount of $80.

In it, I have breakfast items: cereal, eggs, and milk.

The eggs will last for three weeks.

The milk, for three days.

3 Lunches:

Pasta caprese salad

Tortillini of some kind

Tortillini of another kind

3 Dinners:

homemade macaroni bake

tilapia with green beans and rice

tacorito/enchilada type dinner

Snacks:

yogurt

stuff for banana bread

cheese sticks

pudding

I will need to return to the store on Monday to buy more food.

The commissary, by far, is the cheapest place to shop.

Walmart is too far away to be convenient, and i don't even know that it would be that much cheaper.

So what say you about my groceries?

Go easy on me.