More adventures in horrorland

At the moment, I’m feeling very bored with my life. I have no idea why, since my life is always one “adventure” after another. The most recent of adventures I am going to embark on is getting evicted from my very first, on my own apartment. So that’s fun. What can I say? I’m trying to be positive about the whole thing. I was irresponsible and didn’t really have the money to afford it, so I’m out. I’m actually surprised they didn’t kick me out sooner! So I go to court tomorrow to officially get booted, but not before I give my reasons as to why I got so behind, of which I have none. At least no real good reason. What does all this mean? It means me amping up my plan to get a house. It’s funny because I’ve noticed in my life that when I have a plan for something, I never actually get to execute said plan on my own, I’m always pushed into it by outside forces. Go figure.
I recently applied for and got the assistant manager position at my salon. I’m pretty stoked about it. I wanted to be a manager but I didn’t want to leave this salon because I like the girls, well most of them anyway, and frankly I don’t like change. So I bided my time until I could charm my way in. And the manager here is great (kissing ass never hurt) so I’m really happy about it. There is a girl here though who doesn’t like me because she thinks I “narced” her out when she left early one night, when really I told her she had to call the manager and ask her if she could leave early, so I was surprised when el jefe asked me why she had left early, and I told her. I don’t need to lie for anybody, I’m a bad liar, as she well knows. I don’t even lie for my friends here at work. If you’re not here, you’re not here and it shows on our books, so yeah, if this girl thinks I’m going to lie for her ever, she’s retarded. She keeps talking about her “concerns” for me being a manager. She was in shock because blah blah blah. Work dram, never a good time.
The genius started junior high this year. I’m still not over it. The other day when I dropped him off at school there was a channel 15 news camera there asking parents questions about I don’t even know what. They skipped me. He probably thought I was Shawn’s older sister what with all my tattoos, piercings and shocking red hair. The mistake happens. A lot. He actually got carded with me one day when I was buying beer! The woman looked at us both like we were retarded for thinking we could get away with the purchase of alcohol, “I.D.’s please,” she said snootily. Shawn and I just looked at each other, I looked back at her and explained that he was only 12 and my son, so he doesn’t have identification besides his school card. She looked at me like I was lying, snootily retorted that she then needed to see my drivers license, which I promptly handed her, as she sneered. She looked at the i.d., looked at me, looked at the i.d., looked at me then handed it back with a smirk on her face. Hey, last time I checked, you work at circle k cashier lady, so don’t be a judger. Yes, I had my son young, but I still don’t look like I’m anywhere near under the age of 21 and yes, I am old enough to have a 12 year old. Oh the joys of parenthood. The princess is a different story. She gets mouthier and frostier with every passing day. Everyone says she’s just like me, so I guess I can’t really say anything other than, sorry mom! Is there a program where we can send our pre-pre-teen daughters away until the age of 18? Sign me up.
I am still, surprisingly, in a relationship. And with the same guy. Who knew I could make it past the 6 month mark. We’ll be at 9 months in a few short days. Weird how I even remember the date I decided I wanted to be “exclusive”. The reason I say ‘I’ is because he asked to be official 2 ½ weeks into dating, and I hesitated because I don’t do the whole boyfriend thing, so I distracted him from me saying no by having more sex with him. I fully expected to lay him a few times, maybe for a couple of weeks then move on. Damn his charming nature. So I say remembering the date is odd for me since I don’t even remember the date I got married. Maybe this date was just more important since it is an actual adult relationship. Who really knows. The whole thing confounds me anyway. As do most things.
So off I go to, hopefully, straighten my shit out so my adventures aren’t full of too many twists and turns, but I draw the line at balls.

Story of my so-called life...lately

I’m bored today. I’m at work, and I think I would like doing hair more if there was hair for me to do. I don’t even have anything valid to say, I’m just so bored that I decided to blahg since I haven’t done it in over a month I think. I fear I’m going through a writer’s block period. Or maybe it’s just that I’ve been real lazy and don’t write as often as I should. I know ya’ll are just dying from not having my usual pearls of wisdom to read or from not being able to live a glamorous life vicariously through me. Oh wait, my life was never glamorous. My total bad.

I think that’s all I have to blab about. Um, let’s see. I got a new tattoo.

That’s exciting. At least for me, I feel the pride of having just run a marathon when I actually get the bf to tattoo me. He says it makes him nervous and he hates hurting me…even if I’m asking for it. Weird.

What else, what else. My life has been boring lately. My mind just addled with my mounting financial problems. I mean, who knew that being an adult and having to pay your own rent would be this hard when you don’t make any money? Apparently not me. I have, however, gotten off my lazy ass so to speak, and started making more hair accessories, as requested by some people that are actually willing to give me money for my crafty wares.

If I can get a credit card I’m going to put them on etsy.com for sale. Maybe I can rustle up some money to help me actually pay my rent. Weird that my landlord wants money in exchange for me living in his apartment. What’s that word for when someone lives somewhere and doesn’t pay rent? Oh yeah, squatter.

Work has been so-so at best. Working on commission is apparently not a good idea when you’re a single mom. I have good clients, but with the whole world financial crisis hub bub they come fewer and far between, unfortunately for me. In July I will be styling a girls’ hair for a calendar shoot she’s doing, so that’s cool. Maybe I can talk some other girls to pay me to do their hair. After all, I love styling 50’s style pin up hair. I can’t wait for my hair to grow out so I can style it like I used to with the 50’s curl in my bangs, which I got made fun of mercilessly by most people because it wasn’t the “cool” thing to do like it is now and I often got told I should put a surfer cause it looked like a wave and at some times a bird in my “nest”. I thought it looked pretty and that’s all that matters. Ok, I’m done with my 5 second girl hair moment.


I guess that’s going to be it for now. I have nothing really interesting left to say and I always feel like my blahgs should be witty and clever but I don’t feel very witty or clever today. So before I bore all ya’ll to tears, I’ll end it here. Although, I’m bored to tears and since misery loves company…Nah, I’m done. I get to leave this twilight zone never ending day soon to go to a baby shower and mama needs to put some food in her belly first. So off to Cheba hut…I hope.

Adventures in Hairland...a rant

I don't understand why people insist on bringing in their kids, or their whole family for that matter, into the salon when they get their hair cut. The kids are always the brattiest, most annoying kids and the families usually want to sit around the person getting the cut so then we, the stylists, have to walk around them, or they bump into you mid-cut because they want to take up all the space around them. It's like the clients are scared to come in alone. We don't bite. Unless specifically requested. And even then its more on a case by case basis. So find a babysitter or send your family members to the Dollar Tree next door, take 15-30 minutes out of your time to come in alone. I promise you won't disappear and turn up in a dumpster somewhere.

The worse is when a woman comes in for a color, perm or anything that takes at least an hour and they bring in the bratty kids or crying baby. If you can't find a babysitter, wait to come in when you can. I have kids and I do not subject the public to their brattiness, not that they're bratty, they're actually very well behaved, unlike most kids, but that's a completely different rant in its own. Oh yeah, and the people that do this are usually low tippers, so not only did I have to cut/color your hair with your demon spawn crying and standing in my way, you only gave me $1-$3 for my services of having to deal with your complete lack of parenting and disciplining skills. Thanks. Please do not come again.

Another thing I don't like is cutting kids hair. The majority of kids cry or scream or fidget or won't let you direct their heads where you need them. These are always the kids that have picky parents. You know, the ones that want a 0 fade on their squirmy 2 year old. It's hard enough to do that on an adult. But the picky parents want what they want but refuse to take the kid to a kid friendly salon where they get to sit in cars and watch cartoons. No they bring them into a full service salon and comb the kids hair while I'm trying to finish the cut. Not to mention spoke about the last stylist who cut the kids hair and what an awesome job they did. Well, if Crystal did such a great job then why don't you request her next time instead of ruining my night. Also maybe next time let me know that Crystal used clippers on the cut last time, and maybe make note on what clipper guard Crystal used that way I'm not playing the guessing game. Next time just take Crystals card so I don't have to talk to your annoying face. Can you guess I've had my night ruined by just such a picky mom?

Life

You know you're spending too much time with your boyfriend when you're watching a movie, spot a camel toe and freeze frame to show him. This also shows that I also spend way too much time with boys since my weekly movie night is spent with the boyfriend and the brother. I often make comments about being a a fifteen year old boy trapped in a girls body. I said that to a male client the other day and he responded, "Wow, you must be really horny." Weird. Then he gave me a ten dollar tip. On a side note, the boyfriend is coming with me tomorrow to meet my dad for the first time. Him, not me. I've already met my dad. I'm a little nervous though. All the issues I have with commitment, meeting my dad is serious. At least in the relationship department. It'll be all good, I know they'll love each other. Que sera, sera.

Whores, queers and more

I often pride myself on my confidence and how secure I am with myself. But sometimes there are women that I believe are put here on Earth just to make us feel like the Hunchback of Notre Dame. Currently for me that girl is the boyfriends chick he dated before we started dating. I don't know what it is about her but I just hate her and I've never even met the girl. It's just everything about her that bothers me...not to mention the fact that she seems like that girl that doesn't give a shit if he has a girlfriend or not. Oh and the fact that she texted him a topless picture of herself a few days before my birthday. I think I just put my finger on why I hate her so much. Girls like that should just be shipped off to a deserted island with all the other cast off whores. Now THAT would make the world a better place.

As the kiddos get older, I've noticed some of the conversations I have with them are more and more like the convos I have with my friends. The other day the princess and I were watching tv and she kept sayin, "That is SO gay." "OMG (yes she actually says that) that person is so gay." "That song is so gay." "Why do you think everything's gay?" I asked her. "Well I just think it's gay, a.k.a. stupid," she replies as if I don't know. "Well not everything has to be gay. Maybe you're gay." "No mom, I'm not gay because then I would have to like girls. And, like, I like girls, but not like that." Oh, ok, I wasn't sure about what that whole gay thing meant. Oddly enough the next day I was talking to the genius and asked him if he liked girls yet. The ex is convinced that he was checking out our friends' 12 year old daughter. So naturally a mother gets curious, and a mother like me is nosy and asks about it. "No mom, I DON'T like girls yet."
"Oh, well do you like boys maybe?"
"Ew mom! I'm not GAY!"
"Well it's not that big of a deal if you are, I just want to know."
"I'm not gay, I just don't like girls yet. But I will when I'm older."
He told me!

I've recently decided I need to become more ambitious in my business dealings. If not to be successful, to actually be able to pay my full rent on time. I like making my own hair accessories and I've recently gone to the extent of finding the weirdest things to put in my hair, one of which is feathers, a teeny cowboy hat and a mini humming bird, to name a few. A friend of mine suggested I sell some of my hair baubles on etsy.com and I figured it'd be a good idea to sell some of my other random art type things I like to make. We'll see how that turns out. On the hair cutting front however, I'm getting motivated more and more everyday. While I don't plan on this being my absolute career for the rest of my life, I would like to make the most of it for at least the next 10-15 years of my life. Recently one of the managers was demoted. So what does that mean for me? If I get my shit together, a.k.a. as the princess would say, come in on time, stay all day, don't pass up clients, etc., etc. I can hopefully advance in this company. A chance for advancement is a little more motivating than coming in and sitting here for 8 hours and only getting about 4 haircuts. Management? Now that's the way to go. I'm getting too old to fuck around anymore and it's time to get this party started. And by party, I mean my career.

I guess we'll see what happens with everything. I just need to do and stop with the procrastination. This little girl is growing up...finally. Reluctantly.

Things

Things I am a fan of in 2009:

1. Buying tv series' on dvd.

2. Never thought I'd say this, but my boyfriend. He's pretty cool, or whatever.

3. My baby nephew. Again, I never thought I'd say this, but I actually like this baby.

4. Sleeping. This is just a carry over from 2008, but I actually get it now. And I never want to live without it again!

5. Listening to 80's hair band and 90's grunge music...and my kids knowing the songs from the first chords.

Things I am not a fan of in 2009:

1. Waiting in line at Wal*Mart to cash my check since I'm now ghetto and don't have a bank account, only to have them tell me they can't cash it for reason #2. Reason #2 is not an explanation and I have to call a stupid phone number to find out why they won't just give me the damn money!

2. Not having any money.

3. Working nights.

4. Not having gone on a vacation...yet.

4. Being an adult. I've turned 30 this year, and while I don't feel old, what with my maturity level of a 15 year old boy, I'm starting to feel all responsible and shit. I don't know how I feel about that.

5. My baby boy growing up and soon venturing into the 7th grade. THE SEVENTH GRADE! How did that even happen? Tonight he's spending the night and the grungy skater, popular kids' house and last weekend he went on an out of town trip with another kid. His first trip without his father or I. ::sigh:: ::tear:: I don't know how I feel about that either.

There are so many things right now, those are just my top 5. And mostly just the ones I actually can think of right now. Marijuana affects the memory.

Good bye to you

When I turned 20, my friend Jenna and I decided to throw a slumber party. Complete with hard liquor, weed and a stripper. I insisted that it not really be a party for me, per se because I didn’t want to get a lap dance. Strippers make me a little uncomfortable. I would welcome presents, however, because who am I to turn down a gift. She called the stripper hut to order a hot guy to take his clothes off for us. We had a choice between a Mexican with green eyes or a blond hair, blue eyed Aryan. I wanted the Mexican because even though I’m more into white guys my very first major crush was a friend of my cousins who looked like a Chicano Elvis with green eyes. They’re always hot. She vetoed me and chose the Aryan.When he showed up dressed like a dollar store cop, I lost it and could not stop laughing. Not to mention that he had a lazy eye. Not the hottest jalapeno in the bunch. Then came the news that, “Surprise!” it was a party in celebration of my birth. A chair got pulled up to the middle of the room where I was forced to sit, much to my chagrin. The music started. ‘Bad to the bone’ was his song of choice and he started to gyrate and wiggle his hips in front of me while whisper-mouth-singing along with the tape (yes, I said tape). It took all I had to not laugh in this guys face. I was NOT into it. Finally my ‘birthday surprise’ came to an end so I anxiously passed my reign over to the rest of the girls. The whole thing was awkward. I’m convinced it was mostly due to the fact that the guy was somewhat retarded. You know, like a high functioning retard. But I digress. Dial-a-stripper asked if there was somewhere he could change so we pointed him in the direction of the bathroom. When he came out, my jaw dropped and I started laughing so hard. He had traded the cheesy cop costume with a pair of stone washed overalls with a ‘wife beater’ underneath, one of the overall straps hanging loosely down his front and untied black combat boots with the pant legs tucked in them. Just turn around and walk away the little voice in my head told me, so turn around and walk away I did. I made my way to the back patio where most of the other girls were smoking and plopped down with relief. The second I cracked open my beer the back door opened and out sauntered hookerello in his Fresh Prince of Bel Air outfit. He takes the seat between my friend and I, takes a swig of one of our beers and says, “You girls don’t mind if I have a beer do you?”
“Well it looks like you already have so I guess it doesn’t really matter what we say,” I stated.
We continued on with our riveting conversation on who knows what as we passed the bong around. As the bong was coming my way lazy-eye grabs it from my friend and rips it. He then turns to her, leans in and tries to shotgun his hit to her. For the few of you who don’t know what “shotgunning” is, let me explain: it’s when someone takes a hit of weed, or what have you, out of another persons mouth, respectively. She immediately shrinks away from him as he’s trying to pry her lips open with his. He laughs, “Hey, somebody shotgun me!” The girls just look around at each other with a look of contempt as he cashes out another bowl. He turns to me and leans in for the kill. I backed up, threw my hand up in his face and said, “Get the fuck away from me right now!” I’m generally a shy and reserved person behind the loud mouth. I don’t like confrontation, but when pushed too far…That was a whole decade ago. In between then and now my twenties have been colorful to say the least. My 21st birthday was spent during an entire weekend in which I was completely shit housed and high…like super high since I smoked out of a 4 foot bong. Needles to say that weekend is vague, at best. Between the ages of 20 and 21 are vague, at best. It’s when the ex broke up with me for the first time and I discovered that there are other boys in the world that I could have sex with. Something that never occurred to me until my best friends pretty much opened my eyes when they were so surprised that I had only slept with one guy who I ended up marrying. Thus opening up a huge can of worms that I may have finally closed the lid on. Half way through my 21st year however, I’d started to sleep with the ex again since his mom died and what better way to comfort him than with my vagina. I’d learned that the power of the vagina is vast. So after the baby came I was back with the ex from about 2001-2005ish. That was nothing but boring married life. Then came the divorce (read: separation of the dvd’s). After that it was pretty much me in a candy store full of boys and I had a major sweet tooth. Just a blur of debauchery.

Now here I am staring 30 straight in the face.At which point I will end this blahg here since I seem to have a case of the Mondays and am not really in the mood for reminiscing anymore. Though I will say this, the last few years of my 20’s really sucked, but I did end them with a bang and started them off right. I just hope I stay on this track of awesome and 30’s really are the best times of my life as so many people have often told me. I guess all I can really do is impatiently wait and find out.

Ode to Monday

Ever have one of those days where you just aren’t in a good mood? I’m having one of those days today. Some might call it a “case of the Mondays”. Some might also want to get punched in the face.

One thing about me is I’m generally in a chipper mood, always smiling and nice with just a slight (read: heavy) undertone of sardonicism. But every once in a while, I’m just in a mood when I don’t want to smile, I don’t want to incessantly chatter as I often do. I just want to be…left alone. However, my often sunny attitude does not allow me a bad mood day. There’s only a couple of times a month where I feel the need to be in a bad mood and not hide it behind a big smile, but on those days someone who already annoys me finds a way to make it worse by telling me to smile or asking me what’s wrong. Can’t I just be in a bad mood? Normally I’ll shrug it off and say I’m tired or have a headache just so I can avoid the infuriation, but today was not that day. When my manager told me to smile, I simply replied with a catty “Why?” I just didn’t feel like fucking around. Later she came and asked me what’s wrong.
“Nothing. I’m just in a bad mood.”
”Did I do something? Are you mad at me?”
Now that kind of shit pissed me off more. If I’m mad at you, you’ll know it. So don’t ask me if I’m mad at you. Boo.

This day is almost over though, so that makes it better. A little closer to the birthday extravaganza. I’m off all next weekend, so maybe I’ll be over this infliction of the Mondays next week. Though who really knows how this moody bitch will feel. One can never tell, not even me.

On a side note, my dad received 2 awards this month. One of them being a lifetime achievement award. I am so proud of him. He's a great writer, poet and playwright. You should check him out (Joe Olvera) for some good reading.

My so-called life...thus far

I'm currently at work rescuing my hair from yet another bad hair day. Doesn't seem like something I would normally worry about, but being in a new relationship does that to you...or so I've heard. I haven't been in one for about three and a half years. I don't really call the last guy I "dated" for 4 months a relationship since he didn't want to be my boyfriend but got all girly pissy at me when I slept with another guy. Pshaw, go figure. But I digress. My hair has not been cooperating with me lately and I'm real tempted to just shave it off. Not Britney Spears G.I. Jane shave it off, just normal like I did 2 years ago shave it. This is why my hair is always short. Lately I also feel like I have to look my best ALL. THE. TIME. I'm not one of those girls who wakes up before the boyfriend and freshens up her make-up and puts on the sexy lingerie, in fact, I often don't wear make-up around him. I have good skin for a reason. But he wears nice suits 90% of the time so I can't go looking all scraggly with my hair and clothes. The problem with my clothes is that I don't have enough nice ones to keep up with him.

blah blah blah

At this moment I'm having a girly-on-my-period kind of mood. Have I ever mentioned that I hate being a girl about 98% of the time? My 15 year old boy mentality doesn't help that.

Speaking of 15 year old boys. I will be turning 30 in exactly 4 days. It's weird. However, I like to think I'm pretty much the same as I was 15 years ago. Gone are the micro minis and band shirts I'd wear with a garter belt holding up my stockings with cherry red 18 hole Doc Martens on my feet. I no longer carry a plastic lunch box as my purse filled with Marlboro Mediums, dark burgundy lipstick and little girl, brightly colored plastic hair clips shaped like bows and butterflies. Not to mention the chain I wore around my neck. I've replaced the minis with pencil skirts, the docs with wedge heels, the lunch box with big purses and the dark lipstick with chapstick. I classed it up a little in my "matured" age.

I don't really feel old, per se, since I have the mentality and maturity of a 15 year old boy, it's the having a pre-teen child that makes me feel old. Even though I'll still be real young when he graduates high school and still young when the princess graduates (read: under 40, barely) I find it daunting. I've often been asked if I'm going to have another kid. To which I usually reply with a vigorous head shake and a look on my face like someone just told me I was going to be locked up in a 10x10 room with no chapstick, water, weed or tv (read: my 4 basic food groups) for a month. The boyfriend even said something about "our baby" the other night, to which I replied, "We have a baby?". "Someday," he said. Someday as in probably not gonna happen? Then yes, someday. As much as I love the guy, I'm still pretty reserved since I've had a few people let me down (read: fuck me over) in the past, so baby talk is probably a little premature, not to mention moot.

Who knows what the future is going to bring though. I try not to look too forward for fear I might stumble (read: disappointment). Es mi vida loca.