At Least They're Clean

Sadly, this story is true. It could only happen to me. It makes me want to curl up and die and quick painless death. To protect people's reputations, I'll only use initials when talking about them.
A few days ago, I did it. You know what I mean. If not, you will shortly. After, I couldn't find my unders(now you know what I'm talking about). I wasn't too worried about it since I'm not a whore and it wasn't a one night stand. I figured A would give them back at a later time.
I went home comando; sorry for the visual. Once I got home, I called A and said, "Bitch, I want my underwear back and I'm not frontin." Actually, it was something more along the lines of, if you see them, can you bring my undergarments to the theatre tonight. That's neither here nor there though. See, it was one of my favorite pairs of unders. If you're going to get some, you better look cute while doing it.
Anyhow, a few days passed, and still no unders. I wasn't worried since I knew they were still in A's apartment, I just forgot to get them every time I was over there. The apartment has laundry facilities in it, but you have to pay to use them, so A's grandma will randomly stop over and pick up dirty laundry and do it to save money. Thoughtful, huh?
Apparently, on one such laundry gathering visit, she came across my underwear and took it with her. I've been assured it was actually clean, but she took it anyways. Great, not only do I not have my favorite pair of underwear anymore, but A's grandma now has it at her house. A assured me it was no big deal, she would never know it was mine and would probably not even notice it.
Turns out, she did notice it. See, I'm stylish, even when it comes to underwear. She really likes my underwear, even though she doesn't know it's mine. She told A that the new underwear with hotdogs on it is really cute.
I'm very aware of the fact that I will never be able to meet this grandma. With my luck, when I do, I'll be wearing the unders she washed for me and took such a keen interest in. I'll lean forward, my bum will become slightly exposed, she'll see it, and put everything together. I feel so common.

Things Not to Do

Well, I did it. I finally cut my hair. It was long overdue, but something that I wasn't able to do because of the show. When I say I cut my hair, I mean that precisly. I actually did it myself. Probably not a great idea in hindsight, but you live and learn.
At first, I was going to just shave it, but decided to give it a go and see what it looked like if I did it myself. I was quite impressed with myself actually. I'll never become a barber, but my hair cut could pass for a low grade salon cut. I was able to deal with that, even though it wasn't quite up to my standards of beauty.
For some reason, after I was done cutting, I decided to try to shave the back of my neck myself. Yes, I have a hairy neck. Gross, but true. It's not like you can braid the hair or anything, my hairline just extends lower then other's. I'm really good at working with mirrors if there is only one involved, but in order to see the back of my head, I needed two.
I couldn't figure out which way to move for the life of me. Once I finally did, I started to shave it. It actually worked fairly well at first, but it turns out that I have a tremor I've never been aware of before. Just as I was finishing, my hand jerked and I shave too high. I tried to even it out, but no luck. I went to work this morning with a very uneven collar.
Luckily for me, we have clippers at work. After shaving a cat's testicals, one of the girls decided to be nice to me and fix my hair as best she could. I say as best she could because I forgot to mention that in my attempt to fix my hair after the jerk, I ended up with a really high uneven collar line. Turns out there was only so much she could do, and turns out I will never cut my own hair again.

Pictures

My church is putting together a new directory. That means that everyone goes and gets their pictures taken so everyone can see who everyone is. I was not planning on getting my picture done since I really don't go to church that much anymore, and didn't want to be one of the losers who has their picture taken by themselves. Well, my sister, being the thinker that she is, signed me up for an appointment time, so now I have just over 2 hours to get ready.
At first, I was going to give the thumbs up in the picture and have a goofy smile, but I don't think I'll really end up doing that. I wish I had planned more and had rented a tux for the affair. Unfortunatly, I forgot all about my picture until a few minutes ago. Now, I'm rushing, attempting to make myself presentable(by blogging?) before going over there. Yes, it will take me a good 2 hours to get ready. Deal with it, I'm high maintenance.
The best part of the whole situation is that everyone who gets their picture taken gets a free 8x10. Oooh, I'll have a head shot. Before you all go crazy, fighting over who gets to keep the picture, my sister has already laid claim to it. I guess she deserves it, she did force me into this mess. I hope she hangs it over her fireplace...if only they had a fireplace.

Shopping Woes

I went to Somerset on Saturday. For those of you not familiar, Somerset is a high end mall. Actually, not a mall, but a collection. I'd never been there before, so I was excited to see the wonders of this magical place.
The problem was, my show opened on Friday. I have to fall in the show, a lot. I know how to do stage falls, but they always look fake when I do them, so I would rather just fall for real. Well, after doing that so many times, my legs have become bruised and sore. Sore to the point that I have trouble walking some times.
There's three levels at the collection. I wanted to kill myself every time I came to a staircase. It was bad enough to have to walk on flat surfaces, but when there are stairs involved, it was unbearable. Thank the lord for escalators.
There were a few times we were in stores that had stairs, and it was all I could do to get up and down them. I pulled through though, like a trooper. And that's my whole story.

I could have saved money on car insurance

I'm scared of lizards. They move too quickly, and you can't read their eyes. They just kind of creep me out.
Regardless, last week, we were brought a gecko(like on the car insurance commercials, thus the clever title of my post) who was stuck to a sticky mouse trap. I decided to save it.
I'm able to handle lizards when they can't move. I'm just scared it's going to bite me. I got him unstuck from the paper, but he was still pretty gooey. His legs were stuck to the side of his body and he couldn't move. I started to get the goo off of his legs too.
When 3 of his legs were clean, he ran away and hide under something sitting on the counter. There was no way I was going to pick it up at this point, so I called one of the girls I work with and made her do it. We got a cup and put him in it since we didn't have anything else around at the second.
She handed the cup to me, and he jumped out of the cup, right at me, mouth open, like he was going to eat me. Mind you, he was probably about 3 inches long. I had no idea I was even able to scream as high pitched as I did when that happened. I've been made fun of for my girly scream even since then. This is why I don't like lizards. I save their lives, and they still try to eat me.

Fab Abs

Two posts in one night. Yes, I've been drinking. It's been a long day, and my life sucks. Oh how I hate people right now. I won't even begin to go into that right now though.
At rehearsal tonight, I found out that I have to be topless in at least one scene. That's right, I have 2 weeks to get myself into shape. Just add that to the stress of not knowing what to do for my character in this show.
Funny as it sounds, it isn't. I hate my body more then anything, and would rather stick needles into my eyes that have to show my stomach and chest. I was told a few weeks ago that I would be topless in this scene, but since I'm coming through a trapdoor during the song, I didn't think my entire upper body would be exposed. Well, it is.
After I found this out, I spent time doing crunches in the aisles between the seats, doing cardio, and chair pushups. For the next 2 weeks, I'm going to eat nothing but boiled chicken. I've decided to allow myself to drink whatever I want, because, well, I think I'll need it.
You may think I don't have the will power to pull this off, but come opening night, I'm going to look somewhat presentable.

Car Wash, Yeah!

Nothing says summer, quite like a car wash. Nothing gets my blood boiling like a car wash either. I'm not sure why; I love car washes when Christina sings about them. Fund raiser car washes are another story.
For some reason, every time I drive by a gas station hosting a car wash, it makes me want to scream. I'm not sure if it's the ditsy pre-pubescent girls wearing bikinis, holding cardboard signs on the corner screaming in my car window as I drive by, or the fact that those people get to be outside getting tan when I'm not able. I think it's more the stupid people trying to advertise it though.
Seriously, you see 12 girls, aged 13-15 standing on a corner, holding a cardboard sign. I don't care if you're literate or not, you know there's a car wash going on, or some sort of pedophile's dream. If I get stopped at the light, I really don't need these girls screaming "CAR WASH!!!!" into my window. Every time it happens, I have to fight the urge to give them the finger...and that isn't a lie. It's like satan himself takes over my body, and I become filled with rage.
Yesterday, I was taking my lunch break, and drove home. On my way home, I was unfortunate enough to be stopped at a light by a car wash. Of course the girls yelled car wash at me. I had to fight the urge to show them my hand, and kept looking straight ahead. On my way back to work, I got stopped at the light again. Surprisingly, the girls didn't remember my car, and yelled that they were having a car wash again, before bursting into giggles..."oh my god, I can't believe we just yelled that loud." I ignored them again, because, that's what I do. At that moment, a 50+ year old truck driver drove by and honked at them. They all cheered and squealed in delight. They were getting hit on by a man old enough to be their grandpa! How exciting for them.
I suppressed my urge to vomit, and drove back to work. It made me wonder, why are girls in their early teens so stupid? Also, why do their parents let them stand on street corners in next to nothing like low class call girls? I just don't get it.