I’m really not feeling this new hairstylist on What Not to Wear. Nick did absolutely amazing things with curly hair. (All his straight hairstyles were lame, though.) Ted doesn’t have the curly hair touch that Nick does. Oh well.
No, I’m not in a fit of despondency over the election in Massachusetts. As far as I’m concerned, health care reform was deader than hell the moment the Public Option went tits up. Oh well, America you get what you deserve.
I’m really liking these Seven7 jeans I got at TJ Maxx. I swear they ought to call them the official jeans for shortwaisted women. It’s so nice to wear jeans that cover my ass and don’t cut me in the waist. I bought all they had in my size, but that was only three pair. And one of them had a bedazzled bottom. I’m not really feeling that, but figure I’ll just be sure to wear them with a jacket or shirt that covers it. Who wants rhymestones™ ( Monica Mingo) on their ass?
I’m writing again, but still in a bit of a funk. I’ve been buying a lot of books lately, and I must say I’ve been sorely disappointed. I’ve read, or attempted to read, three wallbangers in a row. One of them I had eagerly anticipated, and it’s so bad I really do want to call the author and cuss her out. The other is by someone I usually love, but at least I know she’s sometimey as hell. When she’s good she rocks like fiyah, but when she’s bad she makes you want to gouge your eyes out with a grapefruit spoon. Unfortunately, there’s no way to know in advance which one you’ve got. It’s like a box of chocolates…FROM HELL!! And this one I’m trying to read now, damn. It is so dry, and so boring I’ve been shaking my head now for thirty minutes. There is an art to building sexual tension between two characters, and this writer clearly missed that class. I think I’ll put these aside and get back to my own books.
So yesterday I was trying to print some flash cards to help Luke with his spelling test. Yes, he is in kindergarten. No, I don’t know why they have spelling tests in kindergarten, I’m just trying to be the shepherd here. Anyway, my printer wouldn’t work. I fuxed with that thing all morning, no dice. Whit comes home and connects one cable and Bingo! the damned thing runs like a Singer. I pointed out that stuff like that really makes me hate him. He said, “I get that reaction a lot.” See my point? I think we’re easing into the bitterness and loathing part of our marriage. I’ve been looking forward to that for a long time.