That Girl not only updated but completely revamped the blog... at a whole new address. This bitch is movin' on up to the east side...
http://mostlytrue.typepad.com/my-blog/
Follow this link to the new blog and don't forget to bookmark it! Thanks again for your support, bitches!
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Saturday, February 26, 2011
And now a word from our sponsor...
Recently, it came to my awareness that some readers may not understand exactly what this blog is. I feel it almost necessary to write a re-introduction. I had no idea how many people really read this blog because you aren’t all listed as a follower nor do too many of you interact with the Facebook fan page. So, let me begin by explaining who I am.
Who I am...
I have no idea. I am still trying to figure that out and every time I try to label myself or define myself, I find that I simply just can't. I am like a page ripped from a child's coloring book: lots of colors all over the place, carefree yet cautiously designed and always hanging just a little bit outside the lines. I would not compare myself to a chameleon, as they change their shades to remain hidden and unnoticed. My colors tend to change to redesign myself and with much purposeful thought. I have held many jobs, enjoyed many different groups of people, entertained various theories, philosophies and life practices. I've tried drugs, both illegal and legal and tend to drink in excess on occasion. I enjoy cooking and using my skillet as a science project. I love taking care of people and give more chances in life than most people should which has led me to get burned more times than I can count and yet I am incapable of forgiveness.
I can't nail down who I am more than anybody else in the world. People who claim to know exactly who they are tend to live life on a very surface level. I'm not going to lie or sugar coat anything because from what I'm told, life is too short. There is definitely one thing that I know to be true about myself more than anything else: I am eternally dissatisfied. And that is why I continue to work to change my body, my soul and my mind. I have to... because I don't know any other way.
With that being said...
this blog is my creative outlet. Well, let me be a bit more specific. This blog is THAT GIRL’s outlet. That Girl is an alter ego if you will. That Girl gets to say and do all of the things that I am too fucking scared to. On occasion, I, the real life girl behind the typed print, has gotten to be THAT GIRL… the bold, brazen, sassy and incredibly fucking fearless woman who throws caution to the wind and takes every chance that is presented to her. That Girl is incredible which is why I created her. Call me Dr. Frankenstein, I created a persona that is a product of myself and yet apparently, I also created a bit of a monster.
That Girl is the one that has the freedom and the lack of conscience to do and say the things that she does. Those of you who know the real voice behind the bitch know that I am loud and brazen and bold and a fighter… and scared and self-deprecating and that I am harder on myself than anybody ever could be. You know that I wear my heart on my sleeve and that it’s huge. You know that if there is one thing that I can’t stand, it’s the thought that I have hurt somebody unintentionally. You see, I take things very personally. That Girl doesn’t take anything. Ever.
There is an honesty…
within the words of this blog. There is truth to many of the stories. There are parts of each, however, that are embellished. That Girl uses the experiences that I, the real life girl, have had and the people that I have met and creates these characters and emboss them with something that helps me process the encounter so that I, the real life girl, can understand exactly why and how each of these encounters has affected her.
Life hasn’t been that easy for the real life girl in the last few years. I’ve had more changes in the last two years than most people have in a decade. Not all of them… actually, none of them, have been easy or warmly welcomed. I have made choices that I am not proud of. I have made mistakes that I can’t take back. I’ve made life altering actions that only few know about and that most never will. But honestly, I can’t change it. I can’t change who I am or what I’ve done anymore than the rest of you. The girl behind the bitch is human and I need more than anything for all of you loyal readers out there to remember that.
Sticks and Stones…
and words and actions and lots of other things hurt. The real life girl knows this. That Girl doesn’t feel hurt… she just gets angry. The real life girl grew up in a house that didn’t talk about anything and I mean NOTHING! If there was a problem, a curiosity or a misunderstanding there was only one thing to do: Grab a broom and sweep it under the rug. Keep sweeping until there is a mountain of built up shit under the rug so high that you can’t help but trip over it. And then when you do finally trip over it, peel back the rug and reveal more than you can ever deal with and try to get it sorted out all at once. Because that works, right?
No, it doesn’t. That Girl doesn’t see the point in beating around the bush. The real life girl doesn’t either but honestly, I spend my days trying to figure out exactly what it is that people want from me. That Girl doesn’t care what others want from her… she’s who I want to be. All I, the real life girl, has every really wanted is for people to be direct with me. Maybe if people were direct, the after burn wouldn’t hurt so badly. I have spent years trying to figure out why I, the real life girl, am so misunderstood. I have spent even more time trying to figure out why I’m an emotional masochist. But I can’t… nobody can. We just are who we are and we can change ourselves physically. We can open our eyes and broaden our minds. But we can’t change our hearts. The heart wants what the heart wants. Our hearts make us who we are.
And for that…
I won’t apologize. I am who I am. I write this blog under this persona because I have to. And yes, I am an emotional person and for the first time in my life, I’m not going to apologize for being who I am or anything that I have written here because I shouldn’t have to. I mean no harm by creating the characters the way I do. If you happen to recognize yourself in any of these characters, I hope you see the same person that I do because the people I encounter in my life are bad ass… with the exception of Big Mac. He’s just an ass but I think we’ve all agreed on that! We all make our mistakes and it is only through self-evaluation that we are finally able to see ourselves for who we really are: fallible. And that is living…
I don’t write to hurt or to pick on people or to paint some image of people that they find fucked up or unappealing. People paint the pictures of themselves and right now, you probably think I’m painting myself as a bitch but I’m just trying to be real. Because That Girl isn’t. We see in ourselves a darker person that we hope that the rest of the world sees in us. That’s human nature. And while I’ve said that I tend to be incapable of forgiveness, there is someone that I am trying to learn to forgive: myself.
So please…
take this blog with a grain of salt! If you happen to be mentioned under a pseudonym, be flattered that you have affected the real life girl enough for That Girl, her kick ass alter ego, to care about you enough to write about you… even if it is because you said something that pissed her off.
These are the MOSTLY TRUE TALES of a girl who shouldn’t have, and probably didn’t, but is going to tell you she did anyway. Why? Because it’s more fun that way.
Who I am...
I have no idea. I am still trying to figure that out and every time I try to label myself or define myself, I find that I simply just can't. I am like a page ripped from a child's coloring book: lots of colors all over the place, carefree yet cautiously designed and always hanging just a little bit outside the lines. I would not compare myself to a chameleon, as they change their shades to remain hidden and unnoticed. My colors tend to change to redesign myself and with much purposeful thought. I have held many jobs, enjoyed many different groups of people, entertained various theories, philosophies and life practices. I've tried drugs, both illegal and legal and tend to drink in excess on occasion. I enjoy cooking and using my skillet as a science project. I love taking care of people and give more chances in life than most people should which has led me to get burned more times than I can count and yet I am incapable of forgiveness.
I can't nail down who I am more than anybody else in the world. People who claim to know exactly who they are tend to live life on a very surface level. I'm not going to lie or sugar coat anything because from what I'm told, life is too short. There is definitely one thing that I know to be true about myself more than anything else: I am eternally dissatisfied. And that is why I continue to work to change my body, my soul and my mind. I have to... because I don't know any other way.
With that being said...
this blog is my creative outlet. Well, let me be a bit more specific. This blog is THAT GIRL’s outlet. That Girl is an alter ego if you will. That Girl gets to say and do all of the things that I am too fucking scared to. On occasion, I, the real life girl behind the typed print, has gotten to be THAT GIRL… the bold, brazen, sassy and incredibly fucking fearless woman who throws caution to the wind and takes every chance that is presented to her. That Girl is incredible which is why I created her. Call me Dr. Frankenstein, I created a persona that is a product of myself and yet apparently, I also created a bit of a monster.
That Girl is the one that has the freedom and the lack of conscience to do and say the things that she does. Those of you who know the real voice behind the bitch know that I am loud and brazen and bold and a fighter… and scared and self-deprecating and that I am harder on myself than anybody ever could be. You know that I wear my heart on my sleeve and that it’s huge. You know that if there is one thing that I can’t stand, it’s the thought that I have hurt somebody unintentionally. You see, I take things very personally. That Girl doesn’t take anything. Ever.
There is an honesty…
within the words of this blog. There is truth to many of the stories. There are parts of each, however, that are embellished. That Girl uses the experiences that I, the real life girl, have had and the people that I have met and creates these characters and emboss them with something that helps me process the encounter so that I, the real life girl, can understand exactly why and how each of these encounters has affected her.
Life hasn’t been that easy for the real life girl in the last few years. I’ve had more changes in the last two years than most people have in a decade. Not all of them… actually, none of them, have been easy or warmly welcomed. I have made choices that I am not proud of. I have made mistakes that I can’t take back. I’ve made life altering actions that only few know about and that most never will. But honestly, I can’t change it. I can’t change who I am or what I’ve done anymore than the rest of you. The girl behind the bitch is human and I need more than anything for all of you loyal readers out there to remember that.
Sticks and Stones…
and words and actions and lots of other things hurt. The real life girl knows this. That Girl doesn’t feel hurt… she just gets angry. The real life girl grew up in a house that didn’t talk about anything and I mean NOTHING! If there was a problem, a curiosity or a misunderstanding there was only one thing to do: Grab a broom and sweep it under the rug. Keep sweeping until there is a mountain of built up shit under the rug so high that you can’t help but trip over it. And then when you do finally trip over it, peel back the rug and reveal more than you can ever deal with and try to get it sorted out all at once. Because that works, right?
No, it doesn’t. That Girl doesn’t see the point in beating around the bush. The real life girl doesn’t either but honestly, I spend my days trying to figure out exactly what it is that people want from me. That Girl doesn’t care what others want from her… she’s who I want to be. All I, the real life girl, has every really wanted is for people to be direct with me. Maybe if people were direct, the after burn wouldn’t hurt so badly. I have spent years trying to figure out why I, the real life girl, am so misunderstood. I have spent even more time trying to figure out why I’m an emotional masochist. But I can’t… nobody can. We just are who we are and we can change ourselves physically. We can open our eyes and broaden our minds. But we can’t change our hearts. The heart wants what the heart wants. Our hearts make us who we are.
And for that…
I won’t apologize. I am who I am. I write this blog under this persona because I have to. And yes, I am an emotional person and for the first time in my life, I’m not going to apologize for being who I am or anything that I have written here because I shouldn’t have to. I mean no harm by creating the characters the way I do. If you happen to recognize yourself in any of these characters, I hope you see the same person that I do because the people I encounter in my life are bad ass… with the exception of Big Mac. He’s just an ass but I think we’ve all agreed on that! We all make our mistakes and it is only through self-evaluation that we are finally able to see ourselves for who we really are: fallible. And that is living…
I don’t write to hurt or to pick on people or to paint some image of people that they find fucked up or unappealing. People paint the pictures of themselves and right now, you probably think I’m painting myself as a bitch but I’m just trying to be real. Because That Girl isn’t. We see in ourselves a darker person that we hope that the rest of the world sees in us. That’s human nature. And while I’ve said that I tend to be incapable of forgiveness, there is someone that I am trying to learn to forgive: myself.
So please…
take this blog with a grain of salt! If you happen to be mentioned under a pseudonym, be flattered that you have affected the real life girl enough for That Girl, her kick ass alter ego, to care about you enough to write about you… even if it is because you said something that pissed her off.
These are the MOSTLY TRUE TALES of a girl who shouldn’t have, and probably didn’t, but is going to tell you she did anyway. Why? Because it’s more fun that way.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Big Spoon is about to get Knifed by Little Spoon OR Why you shouldn't make an ass out of yourself by assuming
I'm not gonna lie. Right now, That Girl is pissed the fuck off. And I'm going to apologize for the my language ahead of time but I just can't it anymore.
This past weekend was absolutely amazing. Friday night was spent with a couple of friends, getting skunk faced drunk, dancing my ass off and forgetting all of the stress of my life lately. It was carefree and that's the way I like it. I like throwing caution to the wind, saying FUCK IT ALL, and just letting go of life for a few hours! I had more fun than I had had in a long time and I feel like I really deserved it. I mean, for dog's sake, I ate a gas station hot dog at 3:30am, made a few jokes with the cops sitting in the gas station as they watched me blister my hand with scalding hot nacho cheese (gastro-intestinal karma) and stayed up until 6:30 a.m. having a really nice conversation. It was one of those unforgettable nights that you wish could happen every Friday and Saturday night. I fell asleep face to face with someone who I never expected to be my Big Spoon. In fact, I extended an open invitation for him to be the Big Spoon in my utinsel drawer any day. So innocent; so warm.
Saturday I was awoken from a nap by a text message from Guitar Hero. He asked what I was doing. I responded that I was preparing to take a shower. He responded with "Want some company?" I laughed to myself and politely told him no. We chatted some more. He was flirty. It was fun and refreshing. We had plans that night. Dinner, go watch his set (his band was playing a local show) and see where the night takes us. He invited me back to hang out and get drunk with him and his friends. I was still pretty wiped out from the night before but was enjoying myself so much that I decided that I might want to do that. I ended up making the right decision and staying home after the show. Sunday morning I awoke to a couple of missed texts from Guitar Hero.
Text 1: "I should have stayed with you but I'm scared to."
Text 2: "Wait... did you just make me go on a date? I don't do those."
I was confused and yet I found myself smiling. I thought it was cute that he admitted to being scared but I didn't know what he was scared of; I suppose I was a little scared of what his response would be. So I did what anybody without a filter between their brain and their mouth would do. I asked him.
His response was not surprising but frustrating. He was scared that I wanted more than he was wanting to give me. He was afraid that he was going to lead me on because he just wanted to be friends. Apparently, when I do something nice like buy a pizza to split with a friend, enjoy some good conversation and witty banter and buy the first round of drinks... it means I want to date you and sleep with you.
I was and am offended and appalled. This is not the first time that this has happened. In fact, it happened again today with someone that I would have never expected it from. All I did was make a little innuendo and apparently that means that I am wanting love, marriage, baby carriage and a partridge in a fucking pear tree.
Let me just explain something to all the men of the world. There is nothing that you all do better than assume. And you continue to do it wrong over and over again. Now is the time for you to stop what you are doing and pay more attention with your eyes, your ears and you hearts. Quit listening with your dicks because you are really fucking things up for yourself. You see sometimes being That Girl can get really lonely. Sometimes That Girl just needs to feel like there's the possibility of something more out there. She doesn't want it. She doesn't want more, but she needs to know that it is possible.
Virginia Satir, a family therapist, developed the idea of 4 hugs a day. "We need 4 hugs a day for survival. We need 8 hugs a day for maintenance. We need 12 hugs a day for growth." At this point, That Girl would settle for a hug a month. I got to be the Little Spoon to two different Big Spoons in the last week and let me just tell you how different my disposition was. A little touch can make us feel complete and there's nothing wrong with that.
But there is something wrong with people constantly assuming that they know what I need and what I want without even asking me. Quit flattering yourselves boys. Most of you are not worthy of That Girl and all she has to offer. None of you have ever taken the time to stop and notice what That Girl has to offer. You've all just looked at her and made up your mind without asking what's on hers. But it's time that stops. Maybe it's time that That Girl just quits trying to be a good person, a nice person, a friend to anybody with a penis.
Just remember: That Girl doesn't have a filter between her brain and her mouth. If she wants something, she's going to tell you.
This past weekend was absolutely amazing. Friday night was spent with a couple of friends, getting skunk faced drunk, dancing my ass off and forgetting all of the stress of my life lately. It was carefree and that's the way I like it. I like throwing caution to the wind, saying FUCK IT ALL, and just letting go of life for a few hours! I had more fun than I had had in a long time and I feel like I really deserved it. I mean, for dog's sake, I ate a gas station hot dog at 3:30am, made a few jokes with the cops sitting in the gas station as they watched me blister my hand with scalding hot nacho cheese (gastro-intestinal karma) and stayed up until 6:30 a.m. having a really nice conversation. It was one of those unforgettable nights that you wish could happen every Friday and Saturday night. I fell asleep face to face with someone who I never expected to be my Big Spoon. In fact, I extended an open invitation for him to be the Big Spoon in my utinsel drawer any day. So innocent; so warm.
Saturday I was awoken from a nap by a text message from Guitar Hero. He asked what I was doing. I responded that I was preparing to take a shower. He responded with "Want some company?" I laughed to myself and politely told him no. We chatted some more. He was flirty. It was fun and refreshing. We had plans that night. Dinner, go watch his set (his band was playing a local show) and see where the night takes us. He invited me back to hang out and get drunk with him and his friends. I was still pretty wiped out from the night before but was enjoying myself so much that I decided that I might want to do that. I ended up making the right decision and staying home after the show. Sunday morning I awoke to a couple of missed texts from Guitar Hero.
Text 1: "I should have stayed with you but I'm scared to."
Text 2: "Wait... did you just make me go on a date? I don't do those."
I was confused and yet I found myself smiling. I thought it was cute that he admitted to being scared but I didn't know what he was scared of; I suppose I was a little scared of what his response would be. So I did what anybody without a filter between their brain and their mouth would do. I asked him.
His response was not surprising but frustrating. He was scared that I wanted more than he was wanting to give me. He was afraid that he was going to lead me on because he just wanted to be friends. Apparently, when I do something nice like buy a pizza to split with a friend, enjoy some good conversation and witty banter and buy the first round of drinks... it means I want to date you and sleep with you.
I was and am offended and appalled. This is not the first time that this has happened. In fact, it happened again today with someone that I would have never expected it from. All I did was make a little innuendo and apparently that means that I am wanting love, marriage, baby carriage and a partridge in a fucking pear tree.
Let me just explain something to all the men of the world. There is nothing that you all do better than assume. And you continue to do it wrong over and over again. Now is the time for you to stop what you are doing and pay more attention with your eyes, your ears and you hearts. Quit listening with your dicks because you are really fucking things up for yourself. You see sometimes being That Girl can get really lonely. Sometimes That Girl just needs to feel like there's the possibility of something more out there. She doesn't want it. She doesn't want more, but she needs to know that it is possible.
Virginia Satir, a family therapist, developed the idea of 4 hugs a day. "We need 4 hugs a day for survival. We need 8 hugs a day for maintenance. We need 12 hugs a day for growth." At this point, That Girl would settle for a hug a month. I got to be the Little Spoon to two different Big Spoons in the last week and let me just tell you how different my disposition was. A little touch can make us feel complete and there's nothing wrong with that.
But there is something wrong with people constantly assuming that they know what I need and what I want without even asking me. Quit flattering yourselves boys. Most of you are not worthy of That Girl and all she has to offer. None of you have ever taken the time to stop and notice what That Girl has to offer. You've all just looked at her and made up your mind without asking what's on hers. But it's time that stops. Maybe it's time that That Girl just quits trying to be a good person, a nice person, a friend to anybody with a penis.
Just remember: That Girl doesn't have a filter between her brain and her mouth. If she wants something, she's going to tell you.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Sweet, sweet, candy cane flavored revenge...
I can't believe that it's been so long since I've written! I can't even begin to catch you up on the last few months. For the most part, they were uneventful with splashes of excitement here and there. Before I move into 2011, let me tell you about my last encounter with Big Mac as I promised that I would fill you in on running into him. Let me set the scene for you: Santa themed pub crawl, about 6 hours in, 3 sheets to the wind, dancing, singing, and having a great time with friends new and old. At about the third bar that we went to, I was sitting with Sweet K at the bar. We had been joined by Guitar Hero as I will call him and his trusty sidekick. Sweet K begged me to tell Guitar Hero the story of my awful date with Big Mac. Not only was he shocked and appalled, he was laughing hysterically at the absurdity of it all! Who knew that later that evening, we'd run into Big Mac.
As I said, we were about 6 hours into the pub crawl and I want you to understand that this was for charity. We were boozing for a good cause. As part of the cause, we were given little trinkets to give out to bar going patrons not part of the crawl in hopes of getting them to participate next year. As we were preparing to crawl to the next establishment, I had one final candy cane left and noticed a couple sitting in a booth in the corner. They were cozy, cuddled up quite close to each other. I was obnoxiously drunk. I'm not gonna lie. I was loud and having a fantastic time! I wanted them to join the fun!
As I approached the table, I slammed the candy cane (which had spent most of the evening tucked into my partially exposed breasts) down in front of them and gave a quick spiel about how we were drinking for poor kids or something along those lines. The woman looked at me a little bewildered. She looked to be about 40. She had this bad perm that definitely belonged in 1989 and was frighteningly forgettable. It was only a few seconds before her date turned to look at me. All of a sudden, as he was turning his head in what appeared to be slow motion, or maybe I was drunk, I noticed those dog awful earrings that I mentioned in the previous post. I stood there for half a second as he looked at me and said, "Oh my god." "Oh shit." I replied. Then I turned to his date and told her to be prepared to split the bill because his ass wasn't paying for hers. I turned around and walked away. Big Mac's mouth was still hanging open as I exited the bar.
Guitar Hero was right behind me and so was Sweet K. As we walked outside into the cold night air, Guitar Hero asked me what the previous scene was all about. I explained that the story I had told him earlier, the horrifying scene full of disrespect and a total lack of human decency, Big Mac was the starring role and that was him. He laughed when he realized what I had just done and then proceeded to kiss me and tell me it was Big Mac's loss.
On a different note, the last few months have been quite tumultuous. There are less than a handful of people in my life who have been so privy to the 8th circle of my personal hell. You see, That Girl, made a big mistake and hurt someone very near and dear to where her heart is supposed to be. Her actions spoke louder than words and while she may have ignored the tyrant in her life for awhile, she's come face to face with a monster that she can't seem to defeat: her conscience. That Girl is taking some time to reconnect to who she knows she is, somewhere deep down. You see, That Girl, has had some very adult realizations brought to light lately that have been all but welcomed into her world. That Girl fucking hates growing up.
I realize that this blog post just took a very serious turn, but have no fear. Just give That Girl a little bit of time as she learns and tries to forgive herself for what she's done and she'll be more than happy to return to the land of the living. She's been working out physically and mentally in hopes of reinventing herself just a bit. Oh, and her ass is shrinking quite nicely.
That Girl promises to write more often. That Girl didn't realize how much she had been missed until she was getting her hair done last week (step 1 of reinvention... it's kind of like self-mutilation on way healthier). You see, while the multitude of colors were being painted into her hair, the wonderful hair artist she goes to said, "My husband told me to tell you to write another blog!". Thanks for the support everybody. Just remember to do something that you shouldn't every single day.
As I said, we were about 6 hours into the pub crawl and I want you to understand that this was for charity. We were boozing for a good cause. As part of the cause, we were given little trinkets to give out to bar going patrons not part of the crawl in hopes of getting them to participate next year. As we were preparing to crawl to the next establishment, I had one final candy cane left and noticed a couple sitting in a booth in the corner. They were cozy, cuddled up quite close to each other. I was obnoxiously drunk. I'm not gonna lie. I was loud and having a fantastic time! I wanted them to join the fun!
As I approached the table, I slammed the candy cane (which had spent most of the evening tucked into my partially exposed breasts) down in front of them and gave a quick spiel about how we were drinking for poor kids or something along those lines. The woman looked at me a little bewildered. She looked to be about 40. She had this bad perm that definitely belonged in 1989 and was frighteningly forgettable. It was only a few seconds before her date turned to look at me. All of a sudden, as he was turning his head in what appeared to be slow motion, or maybe I was drunk, I noticed those dog awful earrings that I mentioned in the previous post. I stood there for half a second as he looked at me and said, "Oh my god." "Oh shit." I replied. Then I turned to his date and told her to be prepared to split the bill because his ass wasn't paying for hers. I turned around and walked away. Big Mac's mouth was still hanging open as I exited the bar.
Guitar Hero was right behind me and so was Sweet K. As we walked outside into the cold night air, Guitar Hero asked me what the previous scene was all about. I explained that the story I had told him earlier, the horrifying scene full of disrespect and a total lack of human decency, Big Mac was the starring role and that was him. He laughed when he realized what I had just done and then proceeded to kiss me and tell me it was Big Mac's loss.
On a different note, the last few months have been quite tumultuous. There are less than a handful of people in my life who have been so privy to the 8th circle of my personal hell. You see, That Girl, made a big mistake and hurt someone very near and dear to where her heart is supposed to be. Her actions spoke louder than words and while she may have ignored the tyrant in her life for awhile, she's come face to face with a monster that she can't seem to defeat: her conscience. That Girl is taking some time to reconnect to who she knows she is, somewhere deep down. You see, That Girl, has had some very adult realizations brought to light lately that have been all but welcomed into her world. That Girl fucking hates growing up.
I realize that this blog post just took a very serious turn, but have no fear. Just give That Girl a little bit of time as she learns and tries to forgive herself for what she's done and she'll be more than happy to return to the land of the living. She's been working out physically and mentally in hopes of reinventing herself just a bit. Oh, and her ass is shrinking quite nicely.
That Girl promises to write more often. That Girl didn't realize how much she had been missed until she was getting her hair done last week (step 1 of reinvention... it's kind of like self-mutilation on way healthier). You see, while the multitude of colors were being painted into her hair, the wonderful hair artist she goes to said, "My husband told me to tell you to write another blog!". Thanks for the support everybody. Just remember to do something that you shouldn't every single day.