Atleast it's Giraffe Print

I just spent more than I make in a day on a straightener. I also got my entire head of hair curled by a smooth-talking guy named Angelo from Israel at the mall.

It happened like this:
 I was doing a little Christmas shopping and a little personal splurging at the mall tonight. I wasn't on much of a mission. I'd found some great deals and was heading into one of my favorite stores when this young man stopped me and asked how I did my hair every morning. Apparently I was in a chatty mood, so I played along. I stopped, I talked, I sat in his chair.

He straightened my hair.
He curled my hair.
He talked about Italy.
He talked about my wedding.
He talked about fashion.
And he talked about traveling.
He asked me my favorite color from his wide selection of 100% ceramic stylers with lifetime waranties, floating plates, wet-to-straight capabilites and infrared heat garaunteed not to damage hair.

I said giraffe print. I mean clearly, how can you not pick the giraffe?
You have to pick the giraffe.

The next thing I knew he was ringing up my purchase for half price (did I say yes yet? I don't remember saying I was going to buy anything) and telling me about this fantastic revitalizing olive oil shampoo that he was going to give me free, just because it was my special day. The world's best straightener for half price and free $30 shampoo? On my special day? How could I say no?

Please, friends, be kind. Let's all pretend my hair looks so much better with such a high quality straightener next time we meet.

Greetings From Scrooge

It's currently three days before Christmas, and I just had an inner debate on the appropriateness of Christmas music. I hate Christmas music. Most of it is sappy, cheesey, corny, or otherwise obnoxious. The majority of such tunes usually mention four letter words such as s-n-o-w, c-o-l-d, l-o-v-e, or some other form of "Christmas magic". If it wasn't enough that these songs blare from every radio station and cd player you blink at, they usually start long before there's any sign of snow on the ground, and continue after the last of the holiday paper has been thrown away.

If you must force your merriment upon us in musical form, keep it to a week or two. As previously mentioned, I'm not sure if it should be allowed even three days before the big day.

At this point I should probably admit that I'm trying to work on my scroogy-ness. Meaning I'm trying to listen to Christmas music. Although an overwhelming 133 songs of the season creeped their way onto my itunes, I'm only allowing selections from Leigh Nash, Kevin Max, and the Transiberian Orchestra to sing about it today. We'll see if any more make the cut a little closer to Christmas, but it's not looking hopeful.