the slack daily

Who Do You Want to Be When You Grow Up?

My friend Carla and I always said that once we hit 65, we were retiring to Florida and bagging groceries at adjoining registers at the Piggly-Wiggly.  It was between that and wearing a turban, drinking martinis by the pool and banging the pool boy.

Now that I'm married, so the pool boy scenario is out.  The Piggly Wiggly is still a strong prospect, as is the Slackmistress' Home for Elderly Pit Bulls.  Maybe somewhere in there Will and I will become the couple at the ballpark who shakes their angry fist at those damned kids while gumming our shared bag of peanuts.

Today I had my first eye exam in four years so they insisted on dilating my pupils*.   I forgot my sunglasses, so I had to rock the little old lady sunglasses for the way home.

The Ghost of Christmas Future:

Part Roy Orbison, part Whatever-Happened-to-Baby-Jane?

What kind of old person d'you want to be?

*Check out the email I sent Will from my Blackberry here.  And please use the term "afterboob" at least once today. 

Not Truthy, Just Lazy.

Notes:

1. Dear Crafters: I kid because I love. I am crafty only in the Beastie Boys sense, so I am jealous of people who can Make Stuff.
2. As if the screen grab above isn't hot enough, check out the one at YouTube.
3. JustJENN Designs can be found here.
4. The Self-Portrait Truthiness Project can be found here.
5. I am trying out Viddler, because you can make comments within the video, and I think that's just peachy.  However, I will continue to use and upload at YouTube and blip.tv if you'd prefer to watch there.  I'm good that way.

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow, Revisited.

I told the stylist at Floyd's that I wanted a slightly-longer than chin-length bob.

Louise Brooks style? she asked.

You mean angled?

Yup.

Sure.

She showed me exactly how much she planned on cutting off and I nodded.  Then I took off my glasses, she turned the chair around so I couldn't see my reflection and started cutting.

Not chin length.

Oddly - or not oddly - enough this is where Will got his buzz cut a few months back. Perhaps there's some supernatural force about the place, a sort of short-hair vortex?

I know it'll look fine in a few weeks.  And technically, it's a great haircut.  Just not on me.  I look like a chubby  pinheaded girl.  My thought is always that "it's just hair" but I really, really hate this.  And I get to meet Will's entire family tomorrow as well as a bunch of Internet friends on Monday feeling this way.

Maybe makeup and a cocktail would help?

And a shout-out to Giu, who noted the following resemblance:

New Rules for Haircuts:

 

1. Wear glasses
2. Measure twice, cut once.
3. Louise, I love you but I will never invoke your name around a pair of scissors again.