* So, got all gussied up for Coastal Magic, including a trip to get my eyebrows waxed. The place I normally go has changed ownership, and the people there are not quite as sweet and friendly as Lily, whom I sort of adored. On Friday, I offered to come back on Tuesday, so they could get my pedicure done in time for me to pick up the kids. They said they could do it in time and offered tweeze my eyebrows simultaneously to save time.
I had a bad feeling about this.
Today I went back to get my nails done, and before I got out of the car I took one more look at my eyebrows.
Oh yeah. They were definitely not even.
Nevertheless, I went in and got assigned a different stylist, this one under the strict scrutiny of the woman who had sort of butchered my eyebrows last time. The eyebrow butcherer left, and the woman doing my nails tried the upsell– like ya do.
“So. We do your eyebrows when this is done?”
“You did my eyebrows on Friday.”
Her eyes widened in horror. “I did your eyebrows Friday?”
“No, no. Uh, the lady who was just here…”
And now her eyes narrowed. “Yes. You come back after your trip. Ask for me. I’ll make them even. Will give you a facial too. No more blackheads.”
“Sure. Why not. I’ll just cook some more confidence onto my fingernails and forget I’m a quizzical troll.”
Okay– didn’t say that last part. But you know I was thinking it.
That’s okay. I went into Babetta’s Yarn and Gifts (which is, frankly, the whole reason I patronize this nail salon. Because yarn.) I told her the story and she cracked up–and then I told her about a thing I saw on BuzzFeed– knitting like a drinking game. Like, you make up the rules to a drinking game, but instead of drinking you change colors or execute a random cable or an eyelet pattern or change from knit to purl. I loved this idea. Babetta’s eyes got big– I could tell she was a fan.
* * *
The dogs saw the suitcases on the bed tonight. When I went to sit down with family, they could not get enough of me. It was cute. And sort of sad. Damned dogs.
* * *
I read once that once a kid reaches puberty, his or her pheromones are genetically engineered to repel the parent. This is to make things like incest less likely– the new adult doesn’t smell like a mate. This is good thinking on mother nature’s part–but I have to tell you, as a parent with an adult son?
Every time his shirts get mixed up in my laundry I want to wad them up, stalk into his room and tag him in the back of the head with them.
Holy Kerrist what a stench.
I told that last thing to Mate. He was horrified. “You mean ZoomBoy is going to smell worse? Holy God, is that possible?”
Oh yes. The smell will continue.
* * *
The movie Keanu looks hilarious. Mate and I want to see it so bad, but I’m pretty sure Mate and Big T will go. Alas… destined to see it on cable.
* * *
This last one I stole from the great Berkeley Breathed —
“Okay, kids, I’ve got to stop by the store for a Chartreuse Flamethrower.”
* * *
And there you go! BTW– watch the Twitter airwaves on Thursday– we will be airing Taylor Lautner’s movie Abduction, and engaging in Cinema Craptastique with the magnificent Damon Suede! Fun times! Bring your snark, your phone, and your sense of humor!!!
Wish me luck on the big jet plane!