What isn't driving me crazy?
I cannot believe that the end of times are upon us. I thought there were at least two more weeks before the pain, torture and hangovers of the Holidays ensued. But, alas, Thanksgiving is next week. That sucks major dong.
These are driving me crazy.
There is nothing more confusing to me than the kiosk ponytail. I can understand the desire for luscious, thick, shiny hair. I too, covet Gisele Bunchen's seemingly silky, luxurious locks, and envy each layer of perfectly healthy, non-splitting, Rapunzelesque hair. I get it. I want it. I would do almost anything to have it. ALMOST.
Here is a lesson for the ladies: You can't purchase hair at the mall for $14.99 at the Kiosk next to the festively painted hermit crabs and mood rings.You just can't. You are not fooling anyone.
Underpants, jeans, shoes, vibrating chairs, as well as many other wonderful items are available at the mall for your procurement. You can even buy creams, lards and diamond dusts that promise, PROMISE, to turn your hair from split and flat, to bouncy and phat.
Here is the deal, if you are under the impression that a pony tail with the same make up and DNA of Barbie's (Barbie the PLASTIC doll) is going to wow the masses and inspire envy to all of those who lay their eyes on your luscious locks of deceit, you are wrong.
And for pete's sake, if it falls out on the street after a fierce and crushing cat fight, (especially if this takes place on my street, you little bitches) PICK THE DAMN THING UP.
I am sooooooooo tired of driving up my street after a hard day, dreaming about lounging in my bed, gazing at the latest saga of Elizabeth, Lucky and Jason in General Hospital on the DVR, while dining on chicken Thai basil; to be cruelly thrust back into reality when I spot something furry and animal looking in the middle of the street.
My stomach tightens and my palms get all clammy, thinking that maybe, this time, it is an animal,or more importantly, one my furry friends, who has met their maker in the cold, cold street.... As I approach the fuzzy mass, the gross realization sets in that your $14.99 promise of hair envy, has been ripped off of your dumb and delusional head, and is now littering my street. What seems obvious to me is, if this piece of $14.99 heaven isn't even worth you picking it up after it is violently ripped from your head, why waste money on it?
Just stop it. I am tired of the adrenaline rush of terror, then anger, to see that it is just another rotting corpse in the battle of teenage angst, purchased at the mall.