And Then There Were Two . . .

It's a sad day in Conference Room C today.  Contractor Jenny has decided to take another contract gig at a big firm.  She has been trying to get back with a big firm since she was laid off.  This is her opportunity to wow them with her contract skills and will hopefully transition into a permanent associate position.  Fingers crossed for her, but DAMNIT I will miss her.  Once she leaves, it will just be me and Contractor Juniata left to hold down the fort at this never-ending-gig.  I'm like Kramer on Seinfeld when he wanted to see how far the car would go on one tank of gas. I have to see this gig to the end!!!! 

Hope everyone has a fantastic Thanksgiving!!  Squeeze all your loved ones and eat lots of tasties!!!

Bunches of Love
Amy

The Ladies of the Conference Room
(Amy, Jenny, Juniata)



Shit Happens (Sorry Mom)

I was driving down I-85 Saturday morning at 65 mph gabbing with my sister about Italian sausage and motorcycle underwear when I realized I'd just bypassed my exit (DAMN!!!).  I was on my way to my laser chin hair removal appointment and now I was going to be late.  And that's when it happened.  With no warning whatsoever.......I shit my pants.

I assure you, while it seems like I might make some of this stuff up to make the blog more interesting (or to make my life look more ridiculous - if that's at all possible), this epic nightmare did indeed happen to me at 8:45am Saturday morning on my way to get my chin hairs zapped.  I was already feeling a bit wonky from the day before.  I'm not sure what got ahold of me - I blame it on the gas station cheese I purchased after my hair appointment on Thursday night, but who really knows what goes on in our insides.  We could guess all day and never figure it out - sometimes I think our insides just want to let us know who the boss is.  Anyway, I left Jill's charity event on Friday evening earlier than planned because my stomach was hurting and I was feeling nauseated, but I took a long bath when I got home and I actually felt pretty good when I woke up Saturday morning.  When I realized that I had just crapped my pants I was faced with a dilemma. Do I go home, or continue on to my appointment.  I know many of you don't find this to be a dilemma, but just before the "incident," I had already called ahead to say I was on my way but that I was going to be a few minutes late.  Plus, I had cancelled the last two appointments.  Certainly after missing my exit and crapping my pants - all the forces of the universe were pointing towards - TURN AROUND AND GO THE FECK HOME AMY, YOU JUST SHIT YOURSELF!!!  However, as tears began to stream down my face - something came over me.  I was  hell bent on making it to this appointment.  The forces were trying to stop me, but I was having none of that!!  NONE OF THAT - I tell you!!!  After that, my survival skills took over.  I reached behind my seat, grabbed a wad of napkins and shoved them down the back of my pants . . . . . . and continued on to my appointment.  No fecal fiasco was going to keep me from completing my mission.  I have put up with a lot of shit from other people over the past few years, I could certainly figure out how to deal with a bit of my own without panicking and turning tail.

Once I arrived, I rushed past the receptionist- saying over my shoulder "I'm here, but I really need to use the facilities" and I disappeared into the bathroom.  I did a quick, but thorough "clean up" and then returned to the reception area with my sweatshirt pulled down as far as I could get it.  The receptionist informed me that since I was now 15 minutes late she was going to have to get the main Doctor/owner dude, who was currently finishing up some paperwork, to treat me and if I would please just have a seat.  *Gulp*  My "clean up" job was pretty good, but I was now sporting a wet spot on my pants so I had to sit sort of sideways on my hip as not to leave any "evidence" behind. 

The doctor called me in and I jumped up on the examination table (white leather - of course - this place is kind of high falutin).  I have been treated by the main Doctor dude in the past, and while the zapping does not take longer than like 2 or 3 minutes, he is a bit of a chatter box.  This time after he zapped me he proceeds to say.  "You know, I just treated a woman who really really impressed me.  She was just so amazing that I had to google her after she left.  I found out that she won a Pulitzer Prize.  Isn't that amazing.  You just never know who you might meet."  I just looked up at him silently as he beamed with pride at having met such an amazing patient, all the while fighting myself internally from saying, "I just shit my pants.  That's pretty amazing."  But I didn't say it out loud.  I just jumped down from the examination table, gave a quick glance behind me at the white leather table (just to make sure) and went home.

[SIDEBAR - Sorry Mom - You begged me not to blog about this "incident," but I just couldn't NOT.]

[DOUBLE SIDEBAR - The talk of Italian sausages and motorcycle underwear was because I drew my brother-in-law for X-Mas gifts this year.  In case you were wondering.]

A Whole New Me - - - from the chin up

Ok - I have been super busy these last several weekends, making blogging close to impossible (that might be an exaggeration, but just go with it).  Anyway, I have a ton to blog about from Halloween, but just haven't had a minute to put it together yet.  I will try to get that together this weekend.  In the meantime, I will share my new hair do with you.  Why a new hair do, you ask?  Well, it is no secret that I have a few gray hairs sneaking onto my head.  However, this didn't bother me so much at first.  I mean, I haven't seen my natural hair color since I was about 14 or so, so I figured what's the big deal, I'll just keep coloring it.  Well, the last time I got my hair colored (dark reddish - as you know), the hair stylist was trying to talk me into highlights and going lighter with my hair to help hide the grays for longer - - - and she says to me "I mean you're about 60% underneath your color."  I said "60% what"?  She responded "60% gray" all nonchalant, like she had just asked me to pass her the mustard.  I said "WHAT"?  This time with more emphasis.  And trust, I know how to emphasize.  She said, "yeah, you got a lot of gray under there."  The nerve.  And she didn't even whisper it.  I immediately took to social networking so that I could further emphasize my disgust to my nearest and dearest.  When I told Darryl that my stylist told me I was 60% gray underneath my hair color - he responded, as any good friend would, "well tell her to stop looking under there!"  I felt much better after than and went on with my life. 

Anyway, (this was supposed to be a quick in-and-out post, but you know me - I'm long winded).  Long story short (you're welcome), my grays started sneaking back onto my head very soon after I had my hair colored.  I am the type that will go way beyond the recommended time for a re-color, so I was not happy to be faced with hideous gray roots only 3 weeks after my coloring.  Yesterday I decided the stylist was onto something with the whole idea of going lighter so that they grays aren't as evident when they start sneaking back onto my head like the plague.  I emailed her and said I was ready to "go light" (I'm going to refrain from making the obvious joke here).   I asked her if I needed to book any extra time or if the usual time for a coloring was appropriate.  She said the usual time would be plenty.  She was wrong.  I arrived at the salon last night at 5:00pm and didn't leave until 9:00pm (a usual hair coloring lasts no longer than an hour).  When you are going lighter, you have to strip the darker color down (with bleach).  It all sounds very violent, I know.  She put the bleach on my head and set me aside.  My hair turned a lovely pinky/orangy color.  Final step (or so we thought) was to add the new color and voila, done.  Didn't go like that, at all.  As she was rinsing the color out she noticed that the lightening wasn't necessarily even so she added a gloss and let that sit on my head.  Mind you, the bleach already sat on my head for nearly 30 minutes and the new color already sat on my head for over 30 minutes.  Now some gloss was going to sit on my head for 5 to 10 minutes.  My frowzies were already like "WTF dude."  Anyway, She took  me to her chair and started drying me.  That's when she started shaking her head.  I don't like it when doctors or hair stylists shake their heads while looking at my body parts or hair.  But she just kept shaking.  Then she says to me "It's a little uneven, so we have two options, we can go back in and do highlights (more bleach) and add a different color in between the highlights or we can try to put a whole new color on and see if it evens out.  I'm not sure why she was asking me, but she looked like she was trying to lead me towards the highlights, so I said "let's go with highlights."  So, some bleach sat on my head for 30 more minutes and another color sat on my head for another 15 minutes and now I have a new hair do.  And a bit of a headache.  I am getting used to the highlights and she tells me the copper color will fade and make a nice strawberry blond.  I guess my hair is still "in process."  I am not totally in love with it yet, but it is growing on me.  The Ladies of the Conference Room gave their stamp of approval.  

A collage of my road to strawberry blond
(top left - was after the first bleaching; top right was after first
round of coloring; bottom right and left shows the highlights and the
in-between the highlights color - oy vey)



You can't really see the blond stripes and the too orangyness
in this pic, but all in all It's growing on me