sh*tty things that happen to me – Page 7 – The only certainty is bad grammar

Re: Bottle blonde. Now with pictures!

March 23, 2010 Crystal daily photo, feminism?, humor, im cool, medium, sh*tty things that happen to me, Wow

So, I can admit when my hair looks orange.

And it was definitely orange.

I had dyed it myself Thursday night to save money. (One box of hair dye: $8. Vs. One trip to the salon: $150). But it didn’t come out quite like I expected. Rather than a beautiful blonde, I was one-part radio active, one-part pumpkin seed and one-part sunset. Sunsets are at least pretty I guess. (Note my use of shadows, so I can live in denial).

I sucked it up and went to work Friday pretending it was just the awful lighting at my office that made it scream ORANGE from about 30 feet away. But as soon as I got to the comfort of a fellow blonde, my friend Stephanie, I cried out for help. It went something like this:

Me: Um, ya, so I kind of dyed my own hair because I was trying to same money. And I’m not sure if I like it.

Her: Oh. Well, ya. It IS cheaper. Um, it’s not bad, per se. Hmm. Well maybe we could add some brown to it.

Me: I don’t want to be brunette. I want to be blonde.

Her: Hmm. I’m really thinking we should just dye all of it brown.

Me: Sigh. Fine.

And so, the two of us treked off to a Sally Beauty Supply story. Luckily, as Stephanie says, my hair guardian angel was looking out, because the woman at the store was a licensed colorist. She went through the options and we decided to give the blonde another shot seeing as how she said any brown dye would make my hair look dark gold at this point – too close to orange for me.

These are the instructions she gave us:

For those unfamiliar with hair dye, you should know that each step translates into about three products, 60 minutes and enough damage to make me sincerely worry my hair will start to fall out in clumps.

Basically, I had to do a special treatment to bring back protein (I’m pretty sure the product wasn’t vegetarian friendly). Then, I had to re-dye it blonde with a special ‘no red’ additive to get the autumn orange out, then I had to tone it to get the hair to look less bad-80s, and more Pamela-Anderson. Then I had to condition again. Then, well, lets just say some eyebrow dye was involved.

– Here you see some of the product mixed together, a paint brush and Stephanie donning professional grade rubber gloves.

– This picture right here is SACRED. You have just been allowed inside my secret hair dying life. Never speak of this again.

And this, well, this is the after-after picture.

Much better, right?

I expect my roots to grow out in about three seconds from now, but I’m liking it for the moment. Mostly. I think.

And, for those wondering who the heck Stepahine is, here’s a pic of the two of us before we went out Saturday night:

Super fun times 🙂

And thanks for fixing my hair Stephanie!!

Who’s the one?

Published: March 10, 2010 / Updated: March 10, 2010 Crystal feminism?, go (candidate x), god, humor, im cool, long, sh*tty things that happen to me, Wow

If you saw me Wednesday morning, you probably had no idea I’d only gotten 3.5 hours of sleep.

It’s a trick I credit to amazing under-eye concealer and being stupid enough to make my mind think I got a solid four hours. Boo-ya.

I wish I could tell you I had no sleep because something amazing happened. Like I won the lottery and immediately went to a 24-hour Target to buy seven pairs of pants that actually fit me. Or that my vegan friend from California randomly showed up at my door and we talked for hours because he’s awesome. Or that Taco Bell told me I could have free burritos for life and so I spent the whole night making sure it was applicable at every single Taco Bell in the greater Chicagoland region.

But no. The reason I had no sleep is a stupid jerkface we’ll call, Tennis Player.

(He said he’s read my blog, but I’m thinking he doesn’t really do that now, seeing as how he’s a stupid jerkface and whatnot, so I’m just going to go ahead and give him an easily identifiable nickname. I’ll give him the benefit of not using his actual name for now though).

So ya, we had dinner Tuesday night (he paid, two points). Then we went back to his place to hang out. (Watched, ‘My name is Earl,’ plus two points, also watched ‘South Park’ minus two points). And he had a drink and a cigar (Who smokes CIGARS? minus two points).

Then, somewhere along the way (10:30 p.m.), Tennis Player thought he should tell me that he’s still in love with his ex (minus a million points).

Not like, ‘Oh, I just still kinda like her’ love. No. No. This was more, ‘I love her and so I can’t even bring myself to kiss you because I just love her so freaking much. Puke.’ love.

That sucked.

I mean, I was totally pulling for this guy since the moment I met him. He was cute and mostly smart and he voted for the same person I did in the general election and he was able to have conversations that make you wonder where the last hour of your life went (in a good way).

Also, it was kind of endearing the way he tried to dance even though he wasn’t very good.

Alas, it was not meant to be.

After a craptastically-awkward good-bye hug, I went to my car and I cried.

I cried because dating is hard, but I thought this guy had potential. I cried because I was tried and frustrated and mad at some mysterious ex out there who’s ruining my chances with Tennis Player and mad at myself for being mad at some woman I’ve never met. I cried because I really liked him.

And I cried because I had to work at 6 a.m.

My secret plan had been to spend the night at Tennis Player’s house, but seeing as how I might interfere with his plans to woe back his stupid ex (who isn’t even in town and doesn’t even have the decency to date him anymore) (ya, I’m a little bitter), I figured I should just book-it the frick out of there.

While wallowing in my own self-pity, I checked my phone, secretly hoping Tennis Player sent some sort of text telling me he’d just realized how amazing I am and that he wanted me to come back inside. (He didn’t).

Luckily, I found something better – my friend had e-mailed me minutes earlier, all, ‘How’s the date going?’

My friend. Who is awesome, and sweet and empathetic and lives like three minutes from Tennis Player. Who somehow knew I needed her right then.

Because she is awesome, and sweet, and empathetic, she let me come over and sleep on her couch. When I got there, I was planning to cry, but instead, I went another direction – hopelessness.

Dating is HARD people.

I told her how different things are for me now that I’ve lost weight. And how people treat me different in the weirdest ways, and the weirdest way of all is the way men act.

And how I feel like I’m in a place where I’m really truly happy with myself – with my mind, body and soul – but so many of the men I meet are sitting around hoping the life-fairy will come around and fix them.

And how I just want a guy who makes me laugh, and loves my blog and the Bears and Taco Bell. A guy who’s driven, and Christian and smart. Who watches the Daily Show and Mad Men and CNN. Who can hold a conversation and then kiss me with authority. Who lends me his coat when I’m cold, and returns my phone calls.

A guy who’s a lot harder to find than I thought he would be.

That’s when my friend told me the story of her seventh-grade teacher. The story of how this woman would go on date after date after date and nothing ever came of it. So one day, Diana asked her what was wrong with all those men.

“There’s nothing wrong with them. They’re all fine,” she told her. “It’s just, when I’m 60, I don’t want ‘fine.’ I want ‘the one.’

I’m told she’s since been happily married to a man who is most definitely ‘The one.’

I guess if she can wait, I can too.

And really, I think we all know that Tennis Player was fine. But he was nowhere near, ‘The one.’

Top 5 ways in which the recession isn’t total crap.

Published: March 1, 2010 / Updated: March 1, 2010 Crystal god, great america, humor, Johnny Depp, journalism, long, money, random thoughts, sh*tty things that happen to me

First, I need everyone to know that my deep-rooted hatred of the recession is very real. I hate it more than flossing, getting oil changes and paying my student loans, combined. I hate it more than Jay Leno, more than watching golf, and more than speeding tickets.

But. Well. See. Last night, I was watching Desperate Housewives while eating a piece of my $5 hot-and-ready pizza from Little Caesars, and I started to see some upsides. I figured I should write them down so I can read though it the next time I’m living for a week on Ramen Noodles.

5. Tons, and tons and tons of story ideas.

I’ve written about 7,493 stories for work that somehow related to the horrid economy. And my fellow reporters have done the same. Want to know how the recession effected napkin sales, or obesity, or both? We probably did a front-pager on all three.

With that many articles, it’s hard not end up with some really good stuff, like the series of vignettes I wrote about the unemployed, and the great articles about failing city developments and pieces on school districts cutting everything but math and water fountains. Really fun to dig into and share with the world.

4. Things are super cheap.

UMM, $5 for a hot-and-ready pizza. FIVE DOLLARS! That is just insane. Amazing. A whole freaking pizza for $5! AND, Six Flags season passes are on sale for $64.99. For a SEASON PASS! As in, it’s good for the WHOLE SEASON.

I can buy all my clothes on clearance for less than $8 at even the expensive places, like Gap. Cricket offers unlimited everything plus one for cell phones for $25 a month. Subway sells foot-long sandwiches for $5. Houses sell for $3 (ish). And GoogleVoice is FREE!!!

It’s great. I love it. I mean, sure, the prices are low because nobody has any money, but it’s still exciting.

3. My job is no longer my top priority.

When my whole life centered on my career, I had to be the best all the time everyday no matter what, because if I wasn’t then suddenly all the sacrifice wasn’t worth it. But then, the recession came and pummeled my industry. Suddenly, being the best didn’t even matter. There were no raises, no promotions, no job prospects. Being the best at my job turned into the equivalent of being the best at Facebook’s Farmville – nobody cared.

I still work hard, and I will never, ever reach a point where an article with my name on it isn’t the best it could be. But I don’t feel so bad about leaving, say, ON TIME, or saying “No” to an assignment.

And with that, comes a freedom to have a life.

2. I lost a ton of weight.

I had been trying to lose weight since the day before forever, but it was never at the top of my to-do list. The top half of that list included things such as: Find a new job. Move to where new job is. Repeat.

But then, the recession came and killed all the new jobs, so I had to go down to the second half of my list. And there it was. “Lose weight.”

Being in the same place, with a steady life and access to a steady stream of exercise and food choices did a lot to help me meet that goal. And I’m really happy I did.

1. I grew closer to God.

It is possible to have a strong relationship with God when you move to a new church every six to eight months, but it’s possible like me fitting into size 2 jeans is possible or the Cubs winning a World Series this year is possible.

My newfound steady living situation helped me to really get involved with my church on a level I never would have imagined when I was moving at both the beginning and end of every football season. I’m leading the youth group, attending fundraising events, and really connecting during praise and worship services.

And, well, when you have $4 to last the week, it’s hard NOT to turn to God for help. But, later, when money magically appears from some random source, it’s hard not to say thanks to the big man then too.

By using God as my crutch, he somehow turned into my friend. Seems like a little economic downturn is a small price to pay for all that.

Wouldn’t mind if the economy kicked into high gear anyday now though. Just sayin’.