Things that bug me

My butt was in the hairdresser's chair for 4 1/2 hours. I kid you not. There is something about me that makes people want to open up their deepest darkest secrets to me. BJ and other's have commented on that many times. While flattering, sometimes it can be really disturbing. For instance, we'll be at the grocery store and suddenly the lady at the meat counter is telling me stuff that people would normally reserve for their best friend. I don't know the lady at the meat counter. All I wanted was some jumbo shrimp for Pete's sake. We walk away and hubby just shakes his head. "How do you do it?" he asks. I tell him that I honestly don't know. I just have one of those faces I guess.

For four hours and thirty minutes I listened to my hairdresser tell me things I wouldn't even talk to my sister about. Seriously. She stood there and talked to me for about 20 minutes before she even laid a hand on my head. While cutting if she got to a really 'good' part of one of her many stories, she'd stop cutting and stand there and go on with her soliloquy for another 30 minutes or so. I'd try to mentally WILL her to continue cutting or foiling, but to no avail. I even called my sister when the hairdresser was mixing the colors and asked her to call me in an hour in an effort to rescue me. You know, the sort of thing people do when they're on a really bad blind date. Nope, that didn't work either.

Care to read a snippet? Yeah, I thought so. Let me set this up a bit for you. She decided to take a chance on a guy she met online who originally said he was 32, but when they decided to meet in person, he fessed up to being 48. So, she flew across the U.S. to meet him and rather than being 48, she said that she thought he was probably in his 50's. AND most likely married. She decided to just have a good time while she was there. How many things can I find wrong in this scenario? Ummmmm, too many to count.

On with the snippet.We'll just call her Chatty Cathy so we keep things anonymous.

Chatty Cathy: Yack yack yack... then he couldn't perform... yack yack yack... I suggested viagra... yack yack yack... then he wanted to try "x". So I told him, if you can't get it in "there", then you certainly won't be able to get it in "THERE".

Me: (thinking) My ears are bleeding. Seriously, someone please take away my hearing. I cannot stand to hear another word.

Chatty Cathy: yack yack yack... four hours later... yack yack yack....

You're probably wondering what the conspiracy theory was today. Well, I'm not going to label it a conspiracy theory, but it was a theory none the less. Today's theory:

When you have sex with a man, he is infusing you with a sort of virus. That's what makes women fall in love with men when they have sex. It's a sex virus. Not a STD, it's more like a virus that attacks your chemical makeup. Apparently condoms are of no protection of this virus.

So now you know.

I'm really going to have to think awfully hard about going back. Four and a half hours. That's an awful long time to listen to this stuff.

On the other hand, my hair looks fabulous.

Tomorrow I face the hairdresser. It's not that I hate getting my hair cut. I'm dreading it because my hairdresser drives me completely insane. She has conspiracy theories

and she takes forever to tell me about them. I kid you not, my butt is in her chair for no less than three hours at a time. Listening to conspiracy theories in a whispered voice. Three hours. Yeah. Fun.

I'm sure you're wondering why I don't just change hairdressers. It's like this.... I'm vain about my hair and she does a good job. I've spent my entire adult life looking for someone who can deal with my hair and even better, my need for always wanting something slighty edgy. Well, I've found her. For that, I'm willing to give up 3 hours of my life - and sanity - every six weeks or so.

I've decided to make a game of it. I want to know what whacky theory you think she'll come up with next. There is no prize except the satisfaction that you've (imagine in a game show host voice) Named That Theory!

Three years ago, I suggested that our family draw names for Christmas presents since there aren't any kids and some of the members really couldn't afford to buy everyone presents.

Everyone thought it was a great idea; well, except for my mother. She complained about it and said that it took all the fun out of Christmas. Christmas morning after everyone opened their present, she said that she never wanted to do that again.

She was vetoed and we did it again last year. The people who didn't have a lot of money to spend really enjoyed the financial relief from not having to buy presents for the entire family. I enjoyed the gift of time that it gave me, as well as relief from shopping. I hate shopping, especially during the holidays.

This year hubby drew Mom's name. One of the things we've learned over the years is that when Mom gives you a Christmas or birthday list, you'd best not stray from it. If you do, you're going to hear mutterings and clucking. So, I asked Mom for her wish list. I got her reply this morning, saying that she found something she really likes in a little shop downtown and she'd like to buy it and then be reimbursed for it. Of course, she'll have it wrapped, she added.

Of course she will. I mean, isn't that what Christmas is all about? Making sure that the present you bought for yourself is wrapped? That, and surprises as in making sure that person giving the gift is completely surprised at what they've given.

I guess this means that Mom gets what she wants for Christmas. And that, my friends, will make everyone's Christmas a little bit more jolly.

The day after Thanksgiving we all went out to breakfast. It's tradition. Pretty much the only tradition I like at my mom's house.

Mom: So, what theme are you using to decorate for Christmas this year?

Me: No theme, I'm not decorating this year.

Mom: What? You HAVE to decorate for Christmas.

Me: I really can't. I don't have the room since we moved into BJ's bachelor pad.

Mom: Well, let's just say you do decorate. What theme or color scheme would you be using?

Me: Really. I'm NOT decorating for Christmas. In fact, even though we'll have a huge house next year, I think that I like the idea of not decorating so much that I might not do it until I have grandkids. It's very freeing to not worry about getting this done.

Mom: But you just have to decorate for Christmas. I want to get you something. So, what theme do you like?

BJ: Hey! The biscuits and gravy here is great!

BJ... gotta love him.

Anyone see a theme here?

BJ gets quote of the day.

"Why doesn't your mom just hand out a script for everyone? That way, she'll be happy with what everyone says."

This was prompted by the following scene at the Thanksgiving dinner table:

Mom: RisibleGirl, I know you don't like to do this, but we're going to do it anyway. I want to go around the table and have everyone say what they're thankful for.
Me: OK, how about I go last. Then I can say that I'm thankful that this is all over with?
Mom: (ignoring me) I'll go first.
Me: (thinking, oh hey, there's a big surprise. She's wanting to set the 'tone'.)
Mom: (goes on for what seems like hours about church and family)
Mom: Ok, who wants to go next?
Son #2 (Casey): I knew we'd have to do this, so I came prepared
Me: (feeling shamed that I've raised such a suck up.)
Casey: I'm thankful for my new truck.
Mom: Casey! Don't you have anything more meaningful to be thankful for?
Me: (kicks hubby in the shin as an acknowledgment of how much I really hate being there at that moment)
BJ: (ignores me)
Casey: Well, it's been a bad year for me. I've had everything taken away from me. My job, my car, my apartment. Then a really nice lady gave me a truck for free. I thought that was pretty neat.
Me: (proud that Casey stuck up for himself) I think that's just wonderful honey. You have had a tough year, it's great that you can find things to be thankful for.
Mom: Well, there is his family, you know.
Me: (thinking, arrrrrgh! I hate this stupid tradition.)
Mom to my hubby: How about you go next?
BJ: I'm thankful for that my dad pulled through the aneurysm last year. I'm thankful that I am still able to spend time with him.
Me: (thinking) me too.
Mom: (to dad) Ok, we'll skip over RisibleGirl for now. You go next.
Dad: (apparently used to the idea that Mom has ideas of what she wants to hear) Now are you wanting us to go all the way back in time like you did, or is it just this year that you want to hear about?
Me: (snickering to herself go dad!)
Dad: Well, I'm thankful that (hubby) is a part of our family now. I've never seen RisibleGirl so happy.
Me: (rubs hubby's leg in total agreement)
Brother #2: (just like the good boy mom raised him to be) I'm thankful for my family and for the church.
Mom: (nodding head in pleasure that Bro2 followed the script)
Mom: Ok RisibleGirl, it's your turn.

I was thinking in my head of all of the things I'm thankful for but couldn't say them because it'd upset my mother that she wasn't on the list somewhere. I was thankful for hubby's wonderful parents, parents that I connect with much more than my own. I am soooooooooooooo thankful for hubby. He is the most amazing man I've ever met. I'm so thankful for my sister; who also happens to be my best friend and soul mate. I'm thankful for my brother's (even the one who follows Mom's script. He can't help it.) I'm thankful for my dad. I'm blessed with two boys that I adore (even though one is a suck up apparently). I have quite a bit to be thankful for. Instead I chose the one unemotional thing I could think of, yet still be honest.

Me: I'm thankful that I still have a job after so many layoffs this year.
Mom: Is that all you're thankful for?
Me: Can we stop now? If we can stop now, then I'll also be thankful that we're done with this.
Mom: pissy for several minutes.

All of the people I thought about during my mini moment of silence know how I feel about them, because I tell them every chance I get. If only my dad knew. I may have to send him that letter after all.