How did this happen?

Today I want to address something that has been on my mind... and stuck to my forehead, and poking me in the eye; in other words, my bangs. Bangs have been an interesting fashion development over the last seven or so years, and although they have been around since the pyramids (according to the Charleton Heston version of the Ten Commandments), the latest emergence of facial fringe has brought together past and future styles of bangs in an unprecedented display of follicular creativity. You all know what I'm talking about:

1. "Extreme Swoop" makes you legally blind in at least one eye, but very dramatic
2. "Black Ops Bangs" are grown so long and straight over the forehead that the eyelashes actually have to lift hair as the eyelid opens. Meant to camouflage the wearer in urban surroundings.
3. "Cold War Bangs" are worn short and bluntly straight, accompanied by arrestingly straight sides. Strikes fear into the heart of any opponent or fellow commuter.
4. "Uncommitted Bangs" I think those are supposed to be bangs aren't they? Does that person even KNOW they have bangs? who can tell.
5. "Feather Bangs" unusual hybrid of the late seventies and early eighties. Often accompanied by a mullet or hairspray wings. Have been observed to have mind controlling powers in that once you wear them, you can't seem to let go.
6. "The Tube" We all had it, some still do. You know, it's perfectly curled and sprayed so as to resemble a section of Slinky taped to one's forehead.
7. "Shag Bangs" Imagine Garth from Wayne's World.
8. "The Pyramid" This is a structural anomalie in which the wearer has expertly swept a section of bangs back and secured it with an arsenal of bobby pins, creating a dome so indestructable modern science is still trying to replicate it. This structure often gives rise to:
9. "The Alfalfa" an excapee of bangs intended to be swept back sticks straight up in the air and refuses to lay neither forward nor back.

The style I am currently sporting, and what led to this literary overture on bangs, is what I affectionately call the scarecrow look. It is characterized by scraggely bits of hair in so many varying shades of blond and brown and so many different lengths that it literally looks like I picked up pieces of straw off the ground and taped them to my forehead. Everywhere I go if someone's eyes stray to my forehead region I want to yell "I know! Scarecrow bangs right?" because I do know how unfortunate they are. It's not my fault! They sort of evolved over time and there is nothing I can do, short of setting my hair on fire, until July 3rd at which time I hope to pay a professional to get this thing under control. In the meantime can I borrow a weedwacker from someone?

Imposter M&M

I don't want to fill my blog with negativity, but indulge me for a second while I get something off my chest. I hate when peanut M&Ms masquerade as almond M&Ms. They parade around in the almond bag showing off identical flashy colors and sporting the same basic shape as their almond counterparts, but inside they're just a peanut! I know, I know, it's a nut surrounded by chocolate right, why does it matter? But there is something about the way the almond cracks into fractal shards when you bite into it that makes it fun to crunch. The peanut simply doesn't measure up. (I extend my apologies to any solid peanut fans, but it's the truth.) When I bite into an almond M&M I expect to get an almond M&M and not a peanut in almond clothing. Tune in next time when I address the injustice of Coolaid that looks just like water...

Seattle Sentiments

Our road trip to Seattle was amazing! We went to the Univeristy of Washington campus, the Space Needle, the Seattle LDS Temple, Pike's Place Market, and my personal favorite, the Seattle Aquarium. The aquarium was right on the water front and had a petting pool where you could touch (with one finger and one finger only, according to the staff) all kinds of starfish, sea cucumbers, and anemonies. Starfish are rough and not as spongy as they look, but sea cucumbers are slimey and very squishy. I felt quite invasive touching them. My favorite animals to watch were the otters and a giant puffer fish that floated around and bumped into things like he had special needs. All in all, our trip was a huge success and I would like to thank Anna, Eric, Curt, and Meg for sponsoring it. Below are some photos of our adventure!

24 Hours in a Car...

Wow, there are road trips, and then there are ROAD TRIPS and what I am about to describe was the latter. Curtis, Megan, Paul, and Alison embarked on an epic adventure that would lead them through excitement, danger, and outrageous musical stylings unprecedented and irreplicable by modern science as of the date of this publication. I think one of the high points of the marathon car ride from Logan, Utah to Seattle, Washington was when Curt and Paul, overcome by Taco Time fumes, decided to cement their friendship in semi-permanent ink. The footage that follows may shock you... at least it does me.

Lost in a Book

Once upon a time, when I had a two hour metro commute every day, I tended to want to avoid interacting with my fellow commuters, so I took to reading and I got a great chance to delve into those classic books I had always wanted to try, but never had the time. I thoroughly enjoyed myself and actually miss my commute just a little (not the smell, though... I don't miss that at all.)

Unfortunately, a recent edition of the Today Show and the "just in" rack at Borders have caused me to notice that the splashy descriptions on the front of literary entertainment marketed mainly to females is made up mostly of words such as "sizzeling, sexy, biting, and scandalous." In short, the must-read of the summer is most likely going to burn you, give you an STD, or get you arrested. What happened to the type of great novels I discovered deep beneath the streets of Washington DC? I am tired of the only thing rolling off the presses being ANOTHER story about a downtown working girl or updown socialite caught up in the world of gossip, fashion, and inappropriate behavior at the office. Two words... self destruction.

I propose that if you are really interested in a great summer read, you dive into one of the books listed on my Girly Book List (which is always taking additional suggestions) and get to know some of the real heroines of literature. These are characters you can really get behind and when the story is over you feel uplifted and inspired, instead of wishing you could take a shower.

There are antagonists who would argue that the great books I describe were actually the smut of yesteryear, and that they closely compare to the brainless drivel recently spread across your local book store shelves, but I defy that conjecture. Once any reader has experienced the wit of Elizabeth Bennett or the courage of Jane Eyre she will realize that these timeless classics will always stand out over the insipid novels of the here and now. Women of the metro, stand up and be counted as readers of real literature!

Back In Time

So, I was at the supermarket today (I say supermarket because it is a word my grandma would have used) shopping for ingredients to invite my family over for a pancake dinner tomorrow and, as fate would have it, blueberries were on for a dollar a carton and there were only two perfectly tiny plastic containers left. What luck!

I finished my shopping and it was while I was in the checkout line unloading my cart that tragedy struck. Both of the poorly protected containers of beautiful blue berries slipped stealthily through a gap in the cart and landed in a quiet pile on my shoe. I felt it before I saw it (blueberries are softer than I had anticipated) and was almost afraid to look down at the little bits of juicy goodness rolling away from me forever across the grimy floor.

Time stood still as I looked from the cashier (who I happened to know personally) to the bagger and back again. "Do you want to get another one?" The bagger urged like I was hard of hearing. Yes! Another one... I snapped out of my trance. That is precisely what I need. I dodged displays of easter candy and salad dressing as I franticly speed-walked to the produce section. I spotted a worker stocking nectarines an zeroed in. "Do you have any more?" I implored pointing to the "Blueberries 99 cents!" sign as a little tear began to well in my right eye.

"We're out." He said with what I thought was a little less sympathy than what the situation required. Crestfallen, I turned and slowly dragged my feet back to the check out line, now vacant of any stray berries, and solemnly paid for my groceries. Oh, if only the force of my mind could will time to reverse the few precious seconds it would have required to change the destiny of those ill fated berries.

The drive home strung my mind to other times when, with all the force I could muster, I had willed time to reverse for only a few moments. I am sure you, dear reader, can remember the feeling of the moment directly after you flung out an insult that should have been withheld, or the silent seconds following the crunch of a fender bender after you backed up without looking. I suppose those times have happened to us all, and will probably happen a few more times before we die (maybe even as we die), but the important thing is to learn from them. I know that I vow next time to be a little more careful as to the placement of precious produce in my shopping cart... and think before I speak... and look before I back up... and point the mustard away before I squeeze... and wait to step on a bus until I've read where it's going...and...

Crazy Yellow

I am not the kind of person prone to skitsophrenia or craziness, but I was christmas shopping two months ago when I saw a bright yellow grossgrain ribbon belt with a sparkely buckle hanging on a rack and something inside me awakened and said quite clearly "You would love that belt."

To which I immediately replied "it looks like an impulse buy to me that would end up forgotten and un-worn in the back of the closet."

"No," insisted the voice, "I promise you would wear it."

"Voice," I continued, "I know me. I have avoided yellow all my life for the washed-out, unflattering look it lends to my blonde hair and fair skin."

"Even so" the voice coerced, "it would look great on you." I held firm, but fortunately the voice had other methods and to my surprise I found the belt in my stocking on Christmas morning. Insane as it may sound, I LOVE IT. I never knew what I was missing by resigning myself to blues and pinks and greens all my life, which, I am happy to say, can now fulfill their potential when paired with the yellow.

Don't be alarmed; I still don't wear yellow pants or shirts etc. (I haven't gone THAT crazy) but I have found a happy medium of yellow accessories and I urge anyone reading this to take stock of the things you've been denying yourself just because you are used to it not working out. Now the yellow and I enjoy a symbiotic relationship that all started with the sparkely belt.