Eyebrows

So lately Husband has been taking a liking to calling me Eyebrows. No it is not because I have big busy ones or none at all. Apparently I have developed a habit of furrowing them together for all reasons: the sun is bright, I am thinking, I am scowling, I am giving a look of total bewilderment (something I have to say the Husband brings on quite frequently).

So all this thinking about eyebrows has got me thinking about how important they are. I think most ladies will agree that eyebrows are VERY important. Especially any woman who has trusted her face (yes it affects your WHOLE DAMN FACE) to someone who has been state certified, yes state certified, who went to school to learn exactly how to pluck and wax away little hairs and make some art on your face.

This, of course, has happened to me a number of times; thankfully all of them were as bad as the two I am about to tell you about.

Bad eyebrow wax #1: Husband decides that he needs to get a haircut so we head off to Supercuts before we head to Olive Garden for dinner (I know we seem so middle-aged sometimes). I am standing there thinking I really need a wax and I had a good one from that Australian girl at the other Supercuts that time I’ll give it a whirl. Now let’s take into perspective that I have been receiving eyebrows waxes since I was roughly 17; so we are talking almost 10 years of receiving waxing experience. So she sits me back (her eyebrows are a little thin but that’s ok right it is just her preference is running through my head) and starts to apply some wax. She puts some wax in between my eyes and puts a little strip down, ok good so far. Then she leaves it there. She does not push down grab and pull which is normal wax procedure. She keeps pushing down nice and hard making sure it is forever bound to my skin. Then she applies wax under one arch and applied strip and repeats while never pulling off my other strip. It is at this point that I am starting to sweat enough to fill a shot glass and noting that I am going to need one large vodka once this is over. I am thinking at this point that I need to say, “ok no thanks, may I please have some solvent please because there is no way I am letting you pull these off my skin; you will take my face with it, where in the hell did you receive your training you eyebrow waxing hack.” But I didn’t. I laid there and took it. Sure enough she removed at least 2 layers of skin on both sides of my face and left me with a gaping hole in my right eyebrow that I had to pencil in until it grew back.

So you would think that after that experience I would on let someone who had previsouly wax me do it again, of course not! You see we smart girls sometime we just ain’t that smart. We have off days; we get desperate. Not to mention the lady who normally waxed my eyebrows (and usually did a good job) started giving me attitude. It seems like in the last few years I am so bothering her to call and ask if I can get an eye wax. I mean seriously it takes like 3 minutes and you make 15 bucks I don’t see the problem, but whatever.

Which leads me to Bad Eyebrow wax #2. I was getting a pedicure at this little Asian place around the corner from my house. (I know you can already feel where this is going) I needed a touch up; we are talking no shaping of any kind. There were just a few big dark ones that were growing in faster than the others and I wanted them taken care of. My favorite pedicurist also does wax. So I thought well I can check it out I don’t need shaping or anything so I will try her out. It is like a super simple wax. So she takes me back, I lie down, she asks and I say “just a little clean up here [I point] no shaping.” She takes this to mean please remove my whole eyebrow. It doesn’t feel like she takes too much off really as she applies the knowing wax, strip, press, then off maneuver I know and trust. She even does the thing where she brushes the hairs up with a comb and then trims the hair (all fine I know some very expensive people who do this). She gives me a mirror I am thinking ok a little thin, I go to my car and look in the mirror and am horrified by what is staring back at me. I mean we are talking Asian hoodlum BIG TIME. I look like I belonged in China town and pissed off at something at that. Not exactly a good look for a Portuguese girl. I have to say I have seen some beautiful Asian girls with super thin eyebrows by us chicas the Portugies- we don’t do thin eyebrows. So I go home and my Mom calls which means I immediately start bawling and she is like what is wrong with you. I tell her my story she laughs and says how bad? Can you comb down and me, “nope we are in a drawing on situation only.” She says, “Aw honey I am sorry. I was just calling to tell you that Grandma is in the hospital and she is going to have to have 1 maybe 2 toes removed on Monday.” Me: Total and complete silence. Mom: Now that ought to give you some perspective. At least yours will grow back. And don’t you ever tell your Grandmother I said that; something tells me she won’t think it is as funny as we do.

Well mine did grow back, slowly over 2 months. I finally went to get them re-shaped by someone very trusted and she was like “oh honey I can do my best but we can’t shape them normally; there are some bald spots under here.” Which sends me into an internal mutter, “Damn lady does not know how to wax a frigging eyebrow and I have to keep paying for it, I am never letting her or someone I don’t know, or wasn’t explicitly referred wax my eyebrows again.” At which point if Husband could hear my thoughts (thank goodness he cannot) he would have called me Homer and laughed his ass off yet again.

Sheep

So it would probably help to tell you that I work on a college campus, and yes we do have Ag programs. This morning while furiously typing away my next cubbie mate told me that while her and her boyrfriend were driving home late one night last week she saw a sheep had been run over in the road.

I was in my zone and my response was, "what, a sheep?" Because when you hear sheep and ran over it permeates that brain fence you have around whatever it is that you may be doing. I mean it barrels right through and leaves you going huh, wtf? So she responds, "Yes a sheep, a sheep!" With such vigor I couldn't help but bust out laughing. So this is how the rest of the converstion went:

Me: What did you do?
Cubbie Mate: Well we drove home.
Me: OMG you didn't stop or call the police?
CM: No, no the campus police were already there and there were people everywhere. We just went home; besides it wasn't dead [I don't think]. It was just sort of lying there. I think someone broke it's leg.

I think the police were there to probably arrest it and put it back into custody.

Dreams

Ok so I have been having the most insane dreams. I mean we are talking the stuff that screeplay writers wished they dreamed of. So I thought I woudl share some of them with all of you. We are talking like I should be writing these down for posterity or for a serious look into my psyche.



This was last week. And this guy from my work (who is married to this girl that I talk to and is a supervisor for my dept) was like this super psychotic guy like Javier Bardem in No Country for Old Men. He was explaining to me why he had to kill me in some non-descript apartment somewhere with really white walls. I told him that I just didn’t understand because I didn’t think that I had done anything to deserve it. He took me into the living room and I saw the cow killer thing that he used in the movie but he moved away from it and pulled a big machete out of a suitcase and came at me. I ran to a bedroom and locked myself in and Husband was in the bed propped up and working on homework. Then I remember thinking that he was going to be more angry and make me suffer so I let him in and turned around. He slammed the machete into the back of my neck. As I was slipping into oblivion I could feel my back was in pain and then went all warm and numb and then I woke up. I wasn’t all the way awake and I swear I could feel the same feeling in my neck it was creepy. I remember lying there thinking I need to make sure that I don’t tell Anita at work about this because then her Husband will find out and know that I know and he will come after me.


So then Saturday I have this dream that Lola (my baby dog) is sick. She has a brain tumor and it needs to be removed. She had gotten like super mean and aggressive and somehow that is how we found out. So I start crying. I start thinking that she needs to have a CT scan. I am like she needs Derek he is nice and he will help her so I need to take her to Dr. Shepard for the scan. I go to the phone book to look up Meredith's phone number so she can convince him and I realize that neither of them are real. They are fictious people and I have no idea who to call so I sit there and cry.




Sunday... I apparently won a trip to the North Pole. So I had to go to New York where I was going to be outfitted with all of this warm weather clothing and these snow screen things to walk in and we were going to travel by hiking from NYC to the North Pole. It didn’t take very long, I wasn’t cold, and it was gorgeous. I also got to go ice skating. When I went to come back in knew that I was going to be late for work and I was really worried. Then Paul showed up and said that he didn’t want to fly his plane and that he would ride with me commercially. So I fly back home promptly get off the plane and omg "remember" that I am pregnant and am not supposed to fly in first trimester and get all worried that I screwed it up and I was going to lose the baby. It was strange. And oh NCY looked like San Fran the whole time.



Wednesday: I had a totally crazy one last night and I waiting for something to job my memory. When it does I am so posting a part 2 baby.

One of my books

So I have basically been wanting to write my whole life. I mean I have had book ideas spinning through my head since adolescence; however, I lack discipline. How else did I manage to gain 35 pounds in almost 4 years of marriage? I'll tell you-no discipline.

So one of my themes that I was thinking the other day has been done time and time again. They say your first book is somewhat autobiographical seeing as how we all "write what we know." I have always wanted to write about a girl who is incredibly average (a lot like me) who eventually figures out that she is un-average and truly extraordinary. So I was going to start this book and then I was like fuck! I haven't exactly figured that out yet.

So the question is how do you write about something you don't even know; that you are not even sure exists? I am sure that Husband knows what makes me special maybe even my Mother but how the hell am I supposed to know unless someone tells me? I mean is this supposed to be something that I just know? Do I get to figure out while I am still young enough to do something about it? I am not fishing for compliments here I seriously don't know. I think I may have to write my book on Sisters instead. My Sister, my only sibling, now she is where it's at. She has more personality in her pinkie finger than some people ever hope to have. Now I think I give her a run for her money but nevertheless she seems to embody it more. It must be more of the oldest child curse. You know, you oldest siblings, what I am talking about. WE GET SCREWED!!

So maybe someday I will write my book. The problem is that the truth always hurts a little bit. Even if you write something of pure fiction those around you will read it and see the things about themselves that they are afraid of in your characters flaws. How do you assure them that it isn't them? Especially if it partially is? Those around us inspire us and we couldn't do it without them right?

Busy, Busy, Busy

So yes I have been incredibly neglectful of my new little baby blog. It is a really good thing that I have dogs and not fish. Although Husband has a fish but I swear I have never fed it...not even once. I find it truly amazing that it is even alive. Especially since it has no name. I mean if I had not name who knows how much a will to live I would have. The second fish did totally commit suicide a few weeks back. It went thrashing about when Husband tried to clean out it's tank. Idiot.

So anyway Husband is in finishing school. We did the I work part time and he works full time while I finish school (I graduated a few years ago) and now he is finishing school and working full time, bless him. So he lovingly left all of his elective units until his last semester. So that means that this fall sucks royally. I mean royally. I hardly get to see him because he is always in class and when he is home he is doing homework. Like now he is doing homework, I am waiting for him to get to a stopping point so I can eat. Soon he will be done and then we will both be done and who knows what after that...