Tuesday, January 31, 2012

Mane Manners

I don't normally do this, but I'm about to get a little political.  Don't get me wrong:  I vote (early & often!) and I have a pretty strong opinion about all things politic, I just don't usually get into it here.

That being said...here we go.  WTF is up with Callista Gingrich's hair?

I'm a proud Southern Girl.  Granted, I'm the kind of Southern Girl who thinks that the problem with Atlanta is that it's surrounded by Georgia, but I did spend 4 years in Auburn, Alabama in college (in the 80's, no less) which gives me a bit of Strand Street Cred. Coiffure Currency, if you will.

Those of you who haven't had much interaction with gently-bred Southern Gals probably don't know this, but there are Tendril Tenets that we learn from a very young age.

The basis of these Ringlet Rules is the law of 2 of 3 (i.e. your hair can feature 2 of the 3 following characteristics, but no more):
  • Helmet Head
  • Color Not Occurring in Nature
  • "The Swoop" (not to be confused with "The Pouf" sported by our sisters up North)

Enter our girl Callista:

photo credit: www.ibtimes.com

I've got to be honest people:  I see a 3 of 3 violation here.  And not in a good way.  Dare I say a Hat Trick? (more like Impervious Platinum Helmet).  We have helmet.  We have unnatural color .  And we have swoopage.

I don't get the "how". And I don't get the "why".  I kind of don't even get the "what".  And in a time when so many people turn to political spouses to soften a candidate's image...I just don't get her at all.  When people are lining up to ask you how you get your hair to "do that", it might be time to reconsider your look.  There are rules for a reason, sister.  It's for all of us!

Monday, January 30, 2012

Bring it , 2012!

This year started out so well.  It really did!  But it didn’t take long for things to take a sharp left turn and spiral quickly toward the gutter. As usual.

I rang in 2012 as the Designated Driver on the way home from watching my beloved Auburn Tigers kick some butt in the Chick-Fil-A Bowl on New Year’s Eve.  That’s right: other people actually entrusted me with the responsibility of getting everyone home safely.  And by "other people", I mean my brother. Who, by the way, was so completely shitfaced that he accused a woman wearing blue flashing novelty glasses of trying to pull him over for "walking under the influence" and then handed his phone to a homeless person and asked him to take a picture of us posing with a stadium trash can.  Haven’t seen the picture yet, but I’ll be sure to share it once I do.  I’m sure it’s quite tasteful.

So how did I go from responsible driver on Jan 1 to recipient of a tetanus shot, two bouts of different antibiotics for unrelated injuries, five stitches, and being the idiot whose friends have to steal her car keys from her purse and then force her into their car Patty Hearst-style to prevent her from driving drunk by Jan 30?  It defies explanation, although the Margarita Machine that Jeff gave me for Christmas is a contributing factor.

In my defense, the car keys situation was an isolated incident - I’m normally very cautious about getting behind the wheel.  I should have realized that it’s none too smart to spend a few hours in a bar immediately after attending the funeral for a high school friend, five days after the anniversary of my Mother’s death and six months after I lost my Dad.  Combine that with a group of high school friends sending drink after drink my way (vodka with a splash of cranberry, anyone?), and it’s the perfect recipe for bad decisions.  And I’ll never live down the fact that FRT was the responsible party in this situation (well, Mrs. FRT, actually).  When FRT tells you you’re too drunk...you’re way past the point of no return.   I should have known better.

The stitches, tetanus shot & antibiotics, however, are all on me (compliments of the aforementioned Margarita Machine).  I make no excuses.

At this rate, 2012 is going to be EPIC!

UPDATE (You're welcome):