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Tuesday, November 1, 2011

Don't worry, there are no pictures to coincide with this post. You've seen just about enough.

I enjoy my handful of reality shows, but come. On. Who out there is passing around the Kardashian Koolaid? Kim is beautiful, no doubt there, and I’m sure she has wonders for the confidence of curvy women. More importantly, she has shown us common folk that we can be successful, loaded, and famous without any sort of knowledge, talent, prior experience, connections…basically anything save a video camera (although we must pay homage to Paris Hilton for pioneering that gold lined road).

The whole Kardashian clan gets a Mary Poppin’s bag full of cash for appearances, interviews, exclusive photos, etc etc etc, and it’s still not enough to avoid Kim having to pull a publicity stunt. She gets paid for her wedding photos, more interviews, pictures, and an almost free wedding thanks to the caterers clawing for attention and hoping their name is shown on the however-many-hours wedding special? Conveniently, this “heartbreak” leads to even more self-prostituted money. Call me heartless, but I don’t feel bad at all. After all the hoopla, I’d stay married for at least a FEW more months…or at least enough time that people could calculate my marriage in months instead of days. But, that’s just me.

At least if she had attempted this sort of thing with Reggie Bush, it would have been a smidge more believable and wouldn’t warrant people wanting to burn their eyes out with cinnamon Altoids in the checkout isle after seeing Kim’s face there for yet another month. Where’s Britney shaving her head when you need her?

Friday, October 28, 2011


Brian and I have both shared a similar “Where am I?” moment the past couple of weeks.

(Brian during a confusing time when he worked at a lube shop for a few weeks in Feb. and had a work alias--"Carl." Looove him for not being to proud to work ANY job while there are no jobs in construction!)

I can’t speak for Brian, but my moment happened while I was working at the salon. I had a client sitting in my chair, and after a quick consultation, I went clicking away on ankle booties to mix color. I did the usual… glanced through my color inventory, mixed up a (hopefully genius) color concoction, took a swig of Cherry Coke, and went clicking back in. I was just a few foils into a masterpiece when it hit me. “HOW THE (HECK) DID I GET HERE??” Wait… wait. I’m 25? And I’ve been married for two years? I do hair? But I went to school. We’re still paying off school. And when did my hips get so wide? How did this happen? HOW DID I GET HERE?!

I was still sloshing color around in the bowl and pondering this after my client was processing. I was still thinking and almost laughing about how random events and chance decisions lead me to this exact moment. And…it all happened so quickly! Not in any negative way, I mean, I love my life. I LOVE my job and my husband. But… living in Las Vegas and working in a salon was never something I had envisioned even a few years ago, although Ashton the Hairstylist beats the pants off Mrs. Scurr the English teacher in the fun department.

How. Am. I. Here?

Have you done that? I hope this is a common moment of disorientation for 20-somethings.

I figure this will happen again when I have three crying kids, a flat tire on my mini-van and mascara on only one eye. Or when I realized I’ve turned into my mom, whichever comes first.

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

Pan Am.

You need to watch my new faaaavorite show.

The 60's clothes, hair, makeup, and traveling give even any Real Housewife a run for her money.

Sunday, September 25, 2011

Nine Ten Eleven.

Not only was 9/10/11 a marathon wedding day, it was also my big birthday this year! After having my crazy, ridiculously fun friends around in Utah to plot some hilarious birthday events in years past, I was anticipating this year being much mellower. You know, a bubble bath and chocolate type of birthday. Brian had to work, and my parents had a wedding to attend. The week of, I felt a little disappointed to not have such close friends around. I flipped through old pictures on my computer instead. Some past birthdays my friends had schemed:

The surprise party with a gorilla stipper/dancer, who came and left in costume and remains anonymous to this day.

Lots of fun birthday dinners

A bag pipe player arriving at my door to play “Happy Birthday,” and then casually walking away. Unfortunately, no picture outside of the vivid memory in my head.

Oatmeal, the hamster.

A tutu party!

Then I realized I was being a self-absorbed, birthday princess of a woman, so I cut it out and fished out a bubble bath bottle from under my sink. And yet, it was never used! Brian sure surprised me!

He was so sweet to me my whole birthday week, even compromising his masculinity to escort me to Fashion’s Night Out.

Then, I was taken back enough to see Natalie walking into my house that I didn’t have much of a reaction…it didn’t process for a minute that Brian surprised me by flying her down for my birthday weekend! What a man. And, thanks to my recent acquisition of designer lipsticks/glosses gifted to me by a fellow stylist (whose husband “would die if she wore them”…score!), I was looking extra sparkly. Natalie+ Chanel lipstick in Super + glitter Dior gloss that doesn’t wear off + Brian= birthday bliss. Natalie and I played all day and met Brian for dinner at Sugar Factory that evening (which we agreed actually didn’t live up to the rave reviews, but still so fun)!

The 5lb Gummy Bear I wanted to send to Janae until I realized how much the shipping cost. Sorry, Janae.

Nat has had an eye infection the last two times she has visited. Documented.

Brian is the sweetest and made my birthday week so special! Thanks for coming down Natty! I have enough years of special birthdays that I will be content to use my bubble bath next year!

Friday, August 26, 2011

And They Dreamed of Being Hairless Cats for Days.

I came home from the salon the other day to find my sister and her friend with their newly primped puppies...bows, tiaras, hair clips and all. The dogs' expressions reflect their deep appreciation for the ambush makeover.

Zoe and Sweetie were optimistic after realizing there was no hairspray involved, but abandoned all hope after being seen in public.

Saturday, August 20, 2011

San Fran & Heterosexual Pride.

Brian and I enjoyed a little extended weekend jaunt to San Francisco for our 2nd anniversary! I love going out of town for the big day. It’s a honeymoon all over again!

So, it was appropriate and appreciated when a dignified homeless sir yelled out from the street to commend us on our sexual orientation. Heterosexual pride, all the way. Thank you, friend. Another comrade of the streets pointed out Brian's resemblance to Arnold Schwarzenegger. Hmm. We decided to take that as a compliment along with several flexing pictures.

We indulged in all the tourist activities since neither of us had visited the city. SO FUN. We went to an A’s game, Fisherman’s Wharf, Ghiradelli Square, had a city tour narrated by the funniest tour guide ever, rode bikes across the Golden Gate, ate ate ate, and did some anniversary shopping! We were also fortunate enough to watch a Philippino-American parade we happened to stumble upon.

Disclaimer: I'm no photographer and lack the talent to catch "the" moments, so just trust that it was more fun and special than what was caught on camera. My new camera that is more than 7.4 mega pixels, that is.

Taking self-timer pictures in the hotel lobby...Brian's idea. Just one of the reasons I love him.

Another reason I love him.

For Kim!

Free "happy anniversary" dessert!

Such a clear day!

8 miles across the bridge to Sausilito, where most people would take a ferry back to the city. Did we? Nope. Another 8 miles back to the Wharf, then walked to Lombard, and THEN back to Union Square.

That’s why my face looks like this.

All the states we have lived in, minus New Mexico!

Most of all, I loved (looooooved) getting to spend time with my man! He makes me feel so special. No one warns you about hardly ever seeing each other again once you tie the knot. Sad. We came home on Monday, went right to work that same day, and didn’t see each other awake until Wednesday night. How do you throw kids in the mix?!

Sunday, August 7, 2011

When I Grow Up, by Ashton. Not inspired by the PCD song.

With the big two-five approaching next month, I’ve been doing some soul searching and deep thinking. The main question looming in my mind: how do you know when you have grown up? When you have children? When you check, and double check, and triple check, and re-wet your contacts, and those few hairs really ARE grey? The first time you get Botox? I asked Brian this the other night and he had no answer for me. This could be because he was trying to sleep, but it’s an urgent issue in my mind…something like a slideshow of my life with Britney’s “Not a Girl, Not yet a Woman” in the background. I decided that this milestone was predetermined at a young age when you answered the elementary school question. You know,“What do you want to be when you grow up?” Well, when you get to that career, I guess you have grown up.
But what if you never make it to that career? If you are like me, you changed your mind several times along the way.

My elementary school aspirations, for your enjoyment.

From the very beginning, I dreamt of being a writer, but it took a turn for the worst in second grade. I decided to showcase this interest when we were individually assigned to write a story, and then put it into a self-made book. Not only were we authors of the book, but we illustrated it as well. I was pretty enthusiastic about the whole project, so I took it very seriously and invested a good amount of time and Chuck E. Cheese stickers. The majority of my illustrations were cut outs from magazines and stickers from my prized sticker collection, but it was a small sacrifice for my masterpiece. From my experience reading The Babysitter’s Club, I was quick to realize I needed an “about the author” page, so I stapled in an extra page adorned with Lisa Frank unicorns and filled it in accordingly with all the details my fans needed to know for my fan club: favorite color was blue, favorite food was spaghetti, inspired to write by my cat. Cool.

So, I turned it in and was HORRIFIED to find out my teacher not only loved it, but she showed it to the principal! Let me clarify one issue. The social ranking of second grade is largely determined on the playground; however, classroom activities can also affect the social standings. A student wants to do well in school, but never wants singled-out attention from the teacher. A safe way to achieve this posh status was to buy an extremely large box of crayons-Crayola, not RoseArt. Unfortunately, only Philip London’s mom bought him the coveted box, so the rest of us were on our own. I was so embarrassed by Mrs. Romero’s praise that I never wanted to write for the rest of the year. I eventually got over the incident, and continued to succeed during the descriptive writing unit in third grade by using uncommon adjectives. And, interestingly enough, I was also witness to Philip London’s sudden demise the next year when he got sick in class. How the tables had turned.


My direction veered slightly to wanting to become a teacher. I insisted Colby play school with me, and being the kind, unsuspecting brother he was, he’d oblige and become prisoner to my pink and white striped bedroom. I’d pull out my box labeled “paraphernalia,” and whip out some worksheets that I’d saved from third grade for such an occasion. He was awarded with “You did it!” stars from my sticker collection, as well as smiley faces, check marks, and stars all over his paper. Colby was not dismissed for recess until he had completed the worksheets with Jellybean and Gingerbread, his mute stuffed bunny peers. He’d go along with it until I got my fix of writing spelling words on my mini chalkboard, or until he’d start screaming to be freed…whichever came first.


My first haircut client was Barbie’s friend Midge, who regrettably was decapitated in the process. RIP Wedding Party Midge. Baywatch Barbie also received a complimentary service that started with a trim and ended up looking like a Troll/Barbie hybrid. Her head remained intact, only to be later lost during a Free Willy reenactment in the bathtub. This was unfortunate considering Barbie heads could never be replaced without their heads spinning around maniacally on their neck, which is a bone I have to pick with Mattel. Replaceable heads, IS THAT SO HARD? Anyway, RIP Baywatch Barbie.


Colby must have been my muse, because in addition to being my first student, he was also my first LIVE haircut client. I even performed my artistic service free of cost per his silence in the process. I did a nice job generously removing a large chunk of us bowl cut right before a family vacation, just removing some weight and breaking up the strong line. As I ate my grandma’s chicken noodle soup that evening, my mom accused me of the creative hair-do where I thought praise was deserved. At least he still had his head. After the initial devastation of my mom’s disappoint, I blew on my soup nonchalantly and took comfort in knowing true artists never received credit until they were long gone.

Now that I’ve done two of the three “When I Grow Up”s, I guess that’s it. I’ve grown up. Maybe I should have been an astronaut hopeful so my youth could have lasted a little longer. Did you end up in the career you’d dreamt of?

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Homage to Shark Week.

(Jessie and I on a more mellow occasion. Plotting, most likely.)

I'm not exaggerating when I say Discovery Channel's Shark Week is a highly anticipated event in my life. A few pictures from when Jess and I went in a little shark cage when we were in Hawaii in 2006. Some shady guys gave us a snorkel and told us to hop in. Sure.

These guys would jump out of the water to get the fish we'd hung out!

We lived to tell the tale and continued doing other "I probably shouldn't do this" things in Hawaii. And a fun fact from the guys who owned the boat--in Hawaii, the sharks are so used to being thrown leftover seafood from fishers over the years, they are conditioned to follow the sound of boat motors. We got this many sharks with hardly any chum in the water!

And just for Jessie:

THE ONLY other somewhat normal picture. Eating, of course. I'm wearing my "heinous" pants, but our hair was dry and combed.