I am ridiculous.
Hello, everyone. It's Monday. and my blown-out hair is starting to look a little ragged.
The whole all-straight look is so foreign to my locks, it's like it's fighting to make its wavy self known again. So piece by piece, the straight parts rebel and kink.
It's like how the smart German shepherd part of Edsel every one in awhile wins over the...let's call it rollicking Irish setter part of Edsel. He'll figure something out, or understand what I said, and it's all, "HEIL! GERMAN PART OF EDS IS HEA!" That was my German impression, saying "hea" instead of "here." You're welcome. But then Edsel's Irish setter part comes right back and he continues to cut soap.
Yesterday, Ned and I went to a book thingamajig at the fancy hotel here in town. That was the official name for it: Book Thingamajig.
It was at the same fancy hotel my mother and stepfather stayed in at Christmas. I kept expecting my mother to emerge from those doors with a shopping bag. Every time I picked them up, she had another shopping bag. "I brought treats for the dogs and seven dozen cookies." "I brought all new bedding for you, and 12 cans of house paint." "I brought a donkey, so we could have Los Posadas." Honestly, I don't know how she managed to get on the plane with 79,000 shopping bags.
Anyway. It was an event celebrating local authors, and I am pleased to say it had a great turnout. And there was fancy water served, infused with berries and citrus, that I wanted to try but worried had grapefruit in it, because I'm tons of fun.
When I got my hair dyed this weekend, the smells and so on made my throat close up, which I politely did not share with my hairdresser, but I got a serious migraine after, and broke out in a rash everywhere my hair touched on my body. "I wonder if there's some kind of pill I can take for these reactions," I said to Ned.
"Yes, a chill pill," he said.
My POINT is, local author event. Up there was my important friend Jo, signing one of her books.
And here's my important friend Sarah, who just won ANOTHER award for her poetry. A Pushcart. I wonder if she gets an actual pushcart? That might be nice. Turn it into a little wet bar.
I guess this is why I never win awards.
Also, am taking damn iPhone to the Apple store TODAY to get them to fix my dang lack of flash on my camera. But look at my important write-y friends.
Ned, hobnobbing with the celebs. Teabagging with the celebs. Does he look all New York now, do you think? I'll have to show you the Empire State Building he got me. I mean, he didn't actually purchase the real building for me, which might have been nice.
Empire State Building Getting Makeover. New Yorkers Appalled at New Pink Sparkly Structure.
I have to go. My jacked-up hair and I must work. Oh, but before I go, I talk about the Super Bowl this week on Purple Clover. Sports talk with June. "June."
"Bye."
