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I have bangs now. BANGS.

Issue Date: Friday, Jun. 24, 2005

Dear LORD was it ever hot yesterday… and the day before and the day before. As a matter of fact, I may need to check my zip code because the last time I checked, I wasn’t living on the freakin surface of the sun or anything… but it sure feels like it.

Love applesauce. Just wanted to get that off of my chest.

I was trying to fix my hair this morning and a little voice whispered, “Why don’t you just give up already?” I’m convinced that each one of my hairs is individually controlled by a tiny little dictator. And they are never going to reach any kind of agreement. Geneva Peace Treaty? My ass.

Work with me here. I have bangs now. BANGS. Do you fuckers know what kind of commitment that requires? With the round brushes and the … just Gah. Come ON. I am actually using hair spray. But Nooooo, my little dictator-totalitarian bangship decided to get together on one thing this morning and part ways when it was time for me to spray my banglets. So now? I have shiny forehead.


Not kidding.

(Click to make picture bigger.)

I like to call this “I wasn’t kidding about the pink twinset.”
Miss Truvy, I promise that my personal tragedy will not interfere with my ability to do good hair.

Annnyway… last night as I was coming home from an awards ceremony/networking/dinner thing my phone rang. It was my ex-step daughter.

I told you guys that I had one of those right? At least briefly in the 100 Things About Me entry… at least?… I did… I think (confirming… and yep #s 50 – 53). I haven’t talked a lot about her because well (back me up here Trixie and LuLu… or any of the YaYas… Stace?) she and I basically grew up together. She was 3 when I met her and she’ll be 16 this year. Good Lord. Sixteen.

If any of you even utter the word old… I’ll knock you in the ass with my cane, I swear.

She and I still keep in touch and I love to hear about how everything is going for her with school, work, her classes, her friends, her summer, her boyfriend. She’s sending me pictures of prom and all of that in the next day or two. She’s extremely bright. Extremely. The only times she and I ever had problems when she(we) were growing up is when she would actually act her age. I am human and I would forget that she was really just six or eight and not fifteen going on thirty.

A very loving child, R and I bonded almost instantaneously because I think we were both looking for some sort of replacement family. And for a long time it was just she and I against the world.

Fridays was our date night, my mother in law would pick her up from school (we skipped her a grade when she was young… VERY bright) and she would call me at work and we’d plan where we were going for our “date”. Her daddy worked night shift, so we always had the best dates. Whether we were having a slumber party for her friends or doing dinner and a movie, date night was fun.

So when we started talking last night and she was telling me some information about her father and she actually said to me, “Susan, the longer I am away from him, the more I understand why you left.”

Ow. My heart broke.

It fell right out of my body and is lying in pieces on the dusty floor mat of the Mystique.

She’s only fifteen; she shouldn’t have her heart broken by a man, much less her father at this early age. I know ladies ((and Mister) who know me & know the story all too damn well…) I know… it was bound to happen. But I wanted to bypass Dallas, my house, my sleeping husband… drive straight to Nac… find her daddy and throttle him. Does he know what he is missing?

Yes X, teenage girls are hard to deal with, yes, you think your (current) wife is more important because you are terrified of being alone, yes you are mad and probably angry at the bad blood between R and your wife and your first wife (R’s mom). But this is your child. She is brilliant, and the most wonderful thing you have ever done and you are throwing her away.

I love this little girl young woman (geeeze)… and I know she has had some bad influences over the past few years. But she is bright and strong and she is already something incredible. Thank goodness she has a good step daddy.

I know ya’ll I am Cranky McRantyPants. I just had to share.

Onto something positive.

The executive chef at the thingy I was at last night? His name?

Not kidding…

Wait for it…

Michael Jackson.

And by the way… he’s brilliant. The food was excellent, divine, ambrosia of the gods I’d say.

And I’m going to Rascal Flatts tomorrow. And Mister is going golfing at the ass crack of dawn on Sunday. Mister? Golfing? What?

Oh, also… are any of you planning on going to JournalCon 2005? Here is the link. I’m trying to lure Anne to the states with promises of hot men, lots of alcoholic beverages and karaoke. If you know where I can find hot men wielding a karaoke machine with a built-in keg… let me know.


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To understand this dear reward (above) at all, you must hie thee on and read gatsby’s grape ape entry and my comments.

And because of said comments he sent me my very own dream turtle in an email titled wee gift with these words attached, “my purple monkey is booked solid so i ordered you a tangerine turtle. hope he proves helpful.”

The Graphic Below Courtesy of Papernapkin.

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