oh SNOW you didn't

Soooooooo, hey. Sorry about my absence the past week plus.

 

I've been having a rough time slash I've been drinking busy.

 

This weekend, after the ghastly GRE, my friends and part-time lovers, Mel and Adam and Dev came in for the weekend. More like crashed in in a haze of shots and beer. And when I say beer, I mean the Winter Beer Festival. If you've never attended a beer festival, you seriously need to get your shit and thirty five dollars or so together and GO.

 

I can't wait until you're all thanking me, and trust me, you will be.

 

Because you know what happens at these functions? FOUR HOURS OF UNLIMITED REFILLS AND TASTING OF HUNDREDS OF DIFFERENT BEERS. FO FREE.  PEOPLE STUMBLE AROUND FROM BOOTH TO BOOTH COLLECTING BEER GOODIES AND WEARING NECKLACES STRUNG WITH PRETZELS. BY THE END EVERYONE IS WASTED AND IT'S ONLY 7PM.

 

 

(I'm not shouting at you, I'm just still really, really excited about it.)

 

I've never actually had a moment where I was like, "Wow, these are my people" before then. Except Rothbury, and any time I'm hanging out with my girlfriends. But this was like an actual really big group of people that I would consider my people and it was AWESOME.

 

Best. Day. EVER.

 

Plus, Mel asked ME to be a bridesmaid in her wedding.

 

 

 

BAHAHAhahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha. Hahahahahahahah!!!11111111oneoneoenoenonene

 

 

 

I hope there's a booze limo for the wedding party. Don't worry, Mel, I'm already practicing my "winning wedding smile" in the mirror for all the photo-ops at different levels of sobriety, since presently, the only 'look' I manage to capture in pictures is a mixture of deranged/bewildered.

 

 

So the weekend was an overwhelming success.

 

 

Then, Mother Nature, in her infinite wisdom, knocked us Midwesterners silly with a blizznasty/ice apocalypse this week and I've been without internet for the better part of seven days. The better part being the five days out of the last seven that I haven't been at work.

 

Which leads me to thinking, maybe I've got this whole winter-emo-I-want-to-hiberate-and-or-possibly-die-for-four-months-out-of-the-year thing completely wrong. How can any season that at random forces us to give mad respect to the weather for fear of DYING and makes lying in bed all day, drinking champagne and being essentially unproductive totally acceptable and virtually the only option be all bad? Because um, not only do the trees look AWESOME covered in a half an inch of ice, they look even COOLER when you're drunk when it's light out.

 

So Tuesday actual marked my Manfriend's quarter century birthday. That's right, 25 years young. Still looking spry and cheeky as a 24 year old, but with the wisdom of a person who's seen the other side. Ok, I actually made that up, but for realz, he's 25 now. Which, coincided perfectly with the ice storm, because we both got to stay home and celebrate all day. I think you know what I mean by celebrate, and a lot of celebrating was done.

 

And day drinking.

 

 

So all in all, I've been good, thanks for asking.

 

Until this morning.

 

 

I'm having a terrible hair day today. It's just one of those days where you KNOW your hair looks like shit and it makes you feel constantly self-conscious and even, dare I say, unsure of your every move.

 

Annoying.

 

Word of advice, if you don't want your hair to make you feel like shit, treat it to literally anything other than a trim at Great Clips, where all the cows "stylists" have less hair than your 48 year old ultra-conservative father. And definitely don't go right before the iciest ice storm in twenty years. Because the bitch will decide that she'll layer on a bunch of excuses and just dry-cut your already horrendously damaged locks, since you happen to have very thick hair that she doesn't really feel like blow-drying. And then she'll charge you the full twelve dollars and look at you like a goddamn thief when you tip her only three dollars.

 

IT'S A TWELVE DOLLAR HAIR CUT, LADY. YOU EARNED MAYBE FIVE OF IT.

 

Eugh.

 

 

Because those ticked-off hairs will revolt all over your work week.

 

And let's not be mistaken here, I have GREAT hair. It's thick and shiny and lovely and long.  In fact, in high school, I may or may not have won top honor at a "best hair" superlative. It's that good. I'm not even bragging, because sometimes I honestly feel it's my best quality. Best. Quality. However, lately, due to some very hard water and cold weather,  it's having a rather hard time keeping up with me.

 

So it used to be that my bad hair days were few and far in between.

 

But lately, they've been more and more frequent. AND IT'S DRIVING ME UP THE WALL.

 

Which is why I went to get a trim in the first place, since I'm growing my hair out and didn't want an over-priced forty dollar cut-too-short trim at an actual salon. HORRIBLE, horrible idea on my part. That's what I get for attempting to be an actual adult and *save* money.

 

Fuck that.

 

Now I feel all ugly duckling.

 

 

However, and this is a public service announcement to my hair, you may be able to redeem yourselves, if, you behave this weekend while we're in the windy city.

 

That's right,

 

SWEET HOME CHICAGO.

 

Hope yours is just as blustery.

 

XO Sare.