Odds and (no longer split!) ends

It's been a while since you all have seen a blog from me and I'll tell you why. I've been working my ass off. Forty hours this week alone. Who does that?!

Time for some random, senseless sharing. Sharing is caring, after all.

Remember when I was in that damn gloomy funk about a month ago (bad blogger...BAD)? Remember? I was having some boy problems and constantly fantasizing about taking a match to the pubic hair of anything male that walked upright? Yeah...that old chestnut.

I've always known that I have just about the best sister a girl could ever ask for. (Lucky for me, I didn't even have to ask for her. I just got stuck with her!) During my time of despair, she went ahead and proved her awesomeness yet again...in a way that only Red could.

I usually only get my mail about once a week because, to be honest, I'm sick of US Weekly and even more sick of bills. BAH! Why didn't anyone tell me adulthood would be like this? Anyway, Thursday just happened to be the day I chose to get the mail that week and, by golly, was I glad I did. Among the endless heaps of shitmail was a large, very official looking Crowne Plaza envelope. By the way, don't worry, Red. I promise not to tell anyone that you steal company postage for personal use.

Inside the envelope, I found this card:
The inside looked a little something like this:
Red: I hope you're not angry with me for sharing photographic evidence of our bond, a bond so strong that even the jaws of life couldn't tear us apart...though if we don't lay off the sauce sometime soon, they may have to try.

All you others: you read the card. You know what's coming. THIS:I cried, people. I really did, and to this day, I don't whether I was crying because I'm so lucky to have such an incredibly thoughtful sister or because she got me a GUMMI FUCKING RAT.

Number three on my rat's handy list of care and handling instructions reads: "For the best flavor, eat your Pet Rat immediately. If you and your Pet Rat become pals, buy another one to eat!" Now, this may seem silly, but we HAVE become fast friends. He sparks deep within me a desire to join the Twin Cities chapter of PETA and stage a "save the rats" demonstration near the entrance of Amy's Classic Confections. Did Amy really expect me to eat my Pet Rat? That heartless bitch is going down.

Who's ready for the next topic? That makes two of us! Onward...

Last weekend, at Will's persistent urging, Aurora, Ethan, and I went to a "party" at Shaun's house...a magical place we thought existed only in fairy tales. While there, I broke my most recently created man rule, which read "No more making out with Will EVER AGAIN." You have to understand, it was out of my control. He was wearing a fake mullet, FTLOG. That bastard knows that mullets make me weak in the knees.

So, we kissed a bunch and it was nice. He assured me repeatedly that he has no desire to make out with Aurora and I was buzzed enough to believe him, despite the fact that he's sent her text messages specifically requesting some consensual spit swapping. Whatever. I like to kiss tall blonde guys. Sue me.

NEXT!

Deer hunting season kicks off in a few short hours. The beginning of deer hunting means one thing, and one thing only, to me. Thursday evening dinner at Red Lobster with my dad's siblings. However! In addition to Uncle John, we had another well-traveled guest at our table this year. My cousin Tom, who recently returned to the United States after a year and a half in Iraq, has decided to try his hand at deer hunting for the first time. I hadn't seen him since my brother's wedding over two years ago and it was really nice to catch up a little. I'm only mildly pissed that the southern half of our family got the stunning good looks AND the impeccably dry sense of humor.

And then....

Today I got a much needed haircut. I had reached the point of puking in my mouth a little each and every time I looked in the mirror. Yes, it was time for a change. The stylist assigned to my case was just barely able to talk me out of balding myself. If your hair looked like this, you'd understand:That shirt/bra combination does nothing for me.

Astoundingly, it doesn't look any better when I pull on it.
It obviously had to go. I had an estimated 4.5 inches lopped off and I feel like a brand new woman. Despite that fact that it looks completely, unintentionally asymmetrical, you can see how much happiness the new 'do is already bringing to my life:
Last, but not least....

I love Journey, and I don't care who knows it.