Today I had the Ugliest Hair in America.
The irony is that today I had the hair I always wanted to have…in 1978. I had wings. Wings! I walked around with wings all day long, but didn’t realize it until the end of the day. How embarrassing!
Not only did I have wings, but my few strands of grey hair in the middle of my forehead are turning into a big fat streak, like Rouge’s in X-men. But her streak looked cool. Mine looks scraggly. Maybe it’s the wings. Wings and a streak is like stripes and polka dots. It’s either one or the other, people, but never both.
To make up for my ugly hair, I took a picture of a pretty flower from my rose bush:
No, it’s not really that color.
The nice thing about taking flower pictures is that they smell good while you’re taking their pictures. But they also blow around in the breeze and make your pictures blurry. See?
Nope. It’s not that color, either.
I made a big decision today. I’ve decided to stop eating.
It’s not the eating so much that I dislike, as the cooking. I’m soooo tired of cooking. Oh, I used to think I liked cooking. I’d head to the kitchen, turn on the tv, and cook away. But it finally dawned on me: I don’t like cooking. I like watching tv.
A couple of months ago my friend Rob told me with just the slightest hint of defensiveness coupled with a growing sense of self-awareness, that he loves TV. Loves it. More than the rest of us. He would watch it all day long, to the exclusion of everything else, if only given the chance.
I could tell that he’d struggled with this confession for years, fearing that admitting his love of tv would indicate a lack of character. But he can hold back no longer and now obsessively watches tv. To trick the naysayers into thinking he’s doing something valuable with his time, he gives us critiques on what he watches on Facebook, Twitter and in blogs.
Back to my point: I’m sick of cooking and I’m sick of eating. I don’t like to eat most of the things I cook. I cook things to please the rest of the family. Left to my own devices, I wouldn’t cook 90% of the stuff I cook.
Of course, that leads to the question, what would I cook for myself?
Other than those chocolates that I kept from Laura last Saturday, I honestly don’t know.
So, I decided to stop eating until I can come up with something I want to eat. Hopefully I’ll know by morning. If not, it’ll be a long, hungry day tomorrow.
Here are the last pictures from the hot rod car photo shoot. 1939 Harley Davidson Knucklehead
Here it is from another angle.