Thursday I had a busy day telling Jason what to get me for Christmas: that, that, that, that, that, that, that, that, that, that, 2 of those, that, that, that, that, and that in white gold.
Today was a happy day because I got a much-needed haircut. I have this thing where I absolutely abhor long hair. My hair grows really fast, and I keep chopping it off. I usually keep my hair very short, which is what looks best on me because I have a small face and delicate features. But three years ago, my sister told me that I could not get married with short hair. Brides just do not have short hair. Therefore, it was imperative that I grow my hair out just for the purpose of that one day. And for some strange reason, I did. And gawd it annoyed me every day for the whole year that I was growing it. I admit it looked fabulous for the wedding, but 2 days later, it was gone. And I kept it off for 2 years, enjoying the feel of wind on my neck and the sight of my cute little ears. I had different styles, but all short. Mmmm short. But then, being a person that can never keep anything for very long, I had to grow it out again. I think there's just some female hormone that compels us to want to grow our hair. It's not quick, it's not convenient. It takes forever to dry it in the morning, baffling Jason because his hair is so short it's literally dry the second the towel touches it. Then I spend a fortune on product to wash it, condition it, fortify it, make it smell good, make it behaving, keep it in line, make it look nice. I have sustained a few burn blisters on my ears and neck from the curling iron.
I stopped myself from chopping it all off today though. I merely made it shoulder-length, which is still a vast improvement and will be way more manageable. But of course I had to encounter yet another dumb twit hair stylist. Yap, yap, yap, I have no real opinions but that doesn't stop me from making a fool of myself with my verbal diarhea. What possesses these people? I just want to sit there, in nice silence, perhaps with a little bit of friendly banter, but certainly not this insane blather that actually makes her stop cutting my hair in order to gesture wildly with her comb for emphasis.
Then I had to convince Jason to get new shoes because Jason doesn't need new shoes. What's with boys and thinking you only need as many shoes as you can wear? Shoes are not about necessity or practicality. It's impossible to ever have enough shoes. If there's a cute pair of shoes, you just buy them, never mind whether you'll ever wear them or if they'll match anything in your closet. If they're cute enough, they don't even have to fit. Two years ago I found this to-die-for pair of shoes, red and high-heeled, strappy with silk ribbons that tie up your leg. Soooo sexy. They only had size 6 left, and of course I wear a 7. But I bought them anyway. They were on sale for a mere $180, regular for $300, and you just don't pass up that kind of sale. You smile your way through pinched toes for that kind of bargain! My mother always says that only whores wear red shoes, which of course is her way of saying she's devastated that she wears an 8 and there's just no way she'll ever squeeze into a 6.
Boys just do not understand this. While my husband indulges my shoe fetish, and insists that $1100 is not too much to spend on a pair of mary-jane Mahnolo Blahniks on E-bay, he just cannot spend the money on shoes for himself. And when he does go shoe-shopping, he somehow heads straight for the ugly section. Before me, he owned several pairs of hideous shoes, which I promptly threw into a dumpster when he and I started being seen together (several of his shirts met a similar fate). He still has hideous tendencies today, even though I quiz him incessantly when I flip through GQ. He does okay in theory, but in an actual store, you'd swear someone told him to go straight for the one pair that would cause his wife to leave him. He is literally not allowed to buy shoes without obtaining my approval first. But here he was, wearing a pair of shoes that had my solid approval (even my compliments), and he was still hemming and hawing? What is that about? Finally, I just took the box from him and bought them myself, which made me realize that in the past 5 years that we've been together, I have bought every single pair of shoes that he's owned: the running shoes, the dress shoes, the casual shoes, the shoes he wore to the wedding, his Doc Martens, even his slippers! This makes me wonder how we ever got together. How can people with such different priorities love each other? I would rather not eat than do without some pretty shoes, and Jason was running after me in the mall,filled with guilt, trying to convince me to return them. Who is this man?
Now, I'm sitting here about to go into a coma from pure excitement. The tickets are in hand: we will see Spanglish tonight. I love Adam Sandler almost as much as I love myself, and certainly more than I love Jason. I've loved Adam longer, too, since I was about 12 years old. I never miss his movies. I had to come home to change though, because I always freeze in movie theatres. Actually, I find the whole movie-going experience to be quite annoying on the whole. I'm a tad claustorphobic, so anything but an aisle-seat makes me uncomfortable. I like to get there fairly early because I just adore previews, but it's never worth it because 3 minutes into the movie, some 7-foot guy always decides to sit in front of me, even though there are plenty of empty seats everywhere else. It's even worse when it's a 7-foot guy and his bratty children. You can move somewhere else, but chances are, the city you live in will miraculously be populated with massive 7-foot men like you wouldn't believe. But you'll have to believe it, because you can't see the screen. The very screen that you inexplicably paid $12 a pop not to see, but on the upside, you hear everything so darn well that you frequently burst your eardrums (not to worry, they grow back you know). And the person sitting behind you just cannot sit still to save her life. She must kick the back of your seat continually, until she gets up to go to the bathroom and spills her drink, worst case on your new suede jacket, best case on the floor, where it leaks down to your aisle, causing your shoes to stick to the floor. Mmmm.
Wait, why am I going to the movies again? Oh right, Adam. Ahhhhh.
Wish me well!
p.s. It was a very good movie. Fortunately, I did not have to use the fork I keep in my purse for eye-stabbing...only one person left her cell phone on. I pummel the first two using only my fists, it's what I call a 'grace period.' The third gets the stabbing-fork. The purse item that I did have to use, however, was the little wadded up piece of kleenex that every woman has at the bottom of her purse. It wasn't a tear-jerker or anything, but I needed a few dabs. I was really amazed at what a good movie it was. Very strong performance from Tea Leoni; it takes a great actress to make crazy look normal. So many great moments, I won't even bother to tell you all of them, but I will urge you to go see it. Just don't buy the big gulp or anything, it runs a little over 2 hours and with all the damned commercials they shove in front of it, you're sitting there for quite a while (I know I said before I like previews, and I do, but I just hate those commercials!).