i found this blog: http://snoreandguzzle.com/?page_id=11 This person is compiling a list of 1,000 things that quicken the heart, made up of small lists sent in. What are these lists? you ask. here's what the site sez:
"A common japanese tradition...As a form of meditation, or therapy, it is common to prepare a “list of 10 things that quicken the heart.” The list is supposed to describe the small things in life that make one happy, and which makes existence slightly more tolerable." i loved reading it, and have made my own list (yes, of 11 things. so what)...
11. glitter
10. going out to breakfast with friends, slightly hungover, and ordering eggs benedict and rc cola
9. walking through mud barefoot and having it squish between my toes, (alternately: making flubber or oobleck at work and letting it squish between my fingers)
8. falling over in the shallows at the beach
7. a nice glass of whiskey, with ice
6. a nice pint of microbrew, on tap
5. joking around with 2nd graders
4. dancing to cheesy pop music
3. anime
2. kisses on the cheek
1.long hugs, where i can nuzzle the base of their neck
at least that's what i have now. i keep thinking of other things, oh well. if anyone does read this blog, you should make a list, and send it to me so i can anally compare it to mine
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Thursday, October 18, 2007
A Hairy Adventure (Hah!)
no, i am not yet in Lesotho. I have completed the first and most difficult step though, which is leaving portland. now i am just mostly bored and waiting to leave already!
i'm posting because i have a funny story and nobody to tell it to... today i got a crappy haircut. (whoo! hah! man, that is funny. but wait, there's more!) it definitely is not bad compared to past do's i've endured. I somehow attract the crazy incompetent hairstylists. once in high school my hair was cut about 3 inches shorter than i asked because the lady "didn't do short hair" and kept messing up and trying to fix it. how a hair cutter can manage to charge $50 and not know how to cut short hair, i'm not sure. Another time i had this nutcase whose version of "chunky layers a la meg ryan" meant "leave 9 small random chunks of hair 1 inch longer than the rest while cackling and proclaiming 'meg ryan eat your heart out!' ".
anyway, today i may have accidentally encouraged it. So i got 3 fillings in 3 separate quadrants of my mouth, which meant 3 novacaine shots. my face was a total retard. Rather than slur, i decided to over-enunciate, and i ended up sounding just like jimmy from south park (the guy with crutch-braces, timmy's nemesis). I got a total kick out of this, and laughed muchly at myself, drooling with each laugh as i drove away.
So anyway, i went straight to "Athleticuts" after the dentist. I don't know how i could have expected a decent haircut from a place with astroturf, stadium style seating, and a one-hole put put golf course in the waiting area, and jr. high-style lockers between each cutting station, with the stylists wearing jerseys. Man, it was cheese and half; i couldn't resist! maybe i have self-destructive urges sometimes... As i explained to the lady what i wanted, i realized i was still speaking retard. both the stylist and the receptionist were so understanding and overly helpful and pitying that i didn't have the heart to tell them i wasn't actually verbally (and therefore mentally?) challenged. And this hairstylist admits right off how nervous she was because i wanted a "real" haircut, not just a trim. since i have sort of learned from my past, i sort of walked her through my hairdo, in a silly voice. (and yes, i may have emphasized my speech a little more than necessary, but i was having fun).
About halfway through the cut, my speech was clearing up, and then i got another round of funny looks, these more suspicious than "awww poor you"... so i admitted the fillings in my recent past. i was sad to end the game. this lady was pretty funny, though. when she got really nervous about a particular cutting action, she would switch into a horrible british accent, and call me things like "me love". it was so hard not to giggle and mess her up even more! and after i admitted my full mental capacity, the receptionist kept trying to convince me to shave my head and that no, really, it will look good! hah hah, sneaky receptionist, i will not fall for your revenge schemes, for i am too smart and in complete control of my faculties (if not the left side of my tongue and lower lip) for you to fool me!
anyway, here i am with a marginal do. maybe i'll try cleaning it up once the mirror returns to my bathroom (it has gone on a sudden adventure to places unknown and now i have this stained, gluey wall to look at).
the end. (!)
i'm posting because i have a funny story and nobody to tell it to... today i got a crappy haircut. (whoo! hah! man, that is funny. but wait, there's more!) it definitely is not bad compared to past do's i've endured. I somehow attract the crazy incompetent hairstylists. once in high school my hair was cut about 3 inches shorter than i asked because the lady "didn't do short hair" and kept messing up and trying to fix it. how a hair cutter can manage to charge $50 and not know how to cut short hair, i'm not sure. Another time i had this nutcase whose version of "chunky layers a la meg ryan" meant "leave 9 small random chunks of hair 1 inch longer than the rest while cackling and proclaiming 'meg ryan eat your heart out!' ".
anyway, today i may have accidentally encouraged it. So i got 3 fillings in 3 separate quadrants of my mouth, which meant 3 novacaine shots. my face was a total retard. Rather than slur, i decided to over-enunciate, and i ended up sounding just like jimmy from south park (the guy with crutch-braces, timmy's nemesis). I got a total kick out of this, and laughed muchly at myself, drooling with each laugh as i drove away.
So anyway, i went straight to "Athleticuts" after the dentist. I don't know how i could have expected a decent haircut from a place with astroturf, stadium style seating, and a one-hole put put golf course in the waiting area, and jr. high-style lockers between each cutting station, with the stylists wearing jerseys. Man, it was cheese and half; i couldn't resist! maybe i have self-destructive urges sometimes... As i explained to the lady what i wanted, i realized i was still speaking retard. both the stylist and the receptionist were so understanding and overly helpful and pitying that i didn't have the heart to tell them i wasn't actually verbally (and therefore mentally?) challenged. And this hairstylist admits right off how nervous she was because i wanted a "real" haircut, not just a trim. since i have sort of learned from my past, i sort of walked her through my hairdo, in a silly voice. (and yes, i may have emphasized my speech a little more than necessary, but i was having fun).
About halfway through the cut, my speech was clearing up, and then i got another round of funny looks, these more suspicious than "awww poor you"... so i admitted the fillings in my recent past. i was sad to end the game. this lady was pretty funny, though. when she got really nervous about a particular cutting action, she would switch into a horrible british accent, and call me things like "me love". it was so hard not to giggle and mess her up even more! and after i admitted my full mental capacity, the receptionist kept trying to convince me to shave my head and that no, really, it will look good! hah hah, sneaky receptionist, i will not fall for your revenge schemes, for i am too smart and in complete control of my faculties (if not the left side of my tongue and lower lip) for you to fool me!
anyway, here i am with a marginal do. maybe i'll try cleaning it up once the mirror returns to my bathroom (it has gone on a sudden adventure to places unknown and now i have this stained, gluey wall to look at).
the end. (!)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
