The first week of Fallandgetaconcussion.

Today I woke up to rain on one of those mornings where you decide immediately to never ever leave your bed. And when you do, it is only upon the compromise of wearing your new boots and a scarf and driving with the heater on.

As I ventured out into the wet on my way to the post office it was clear that the day would require a stop at seven-eleven as well. Why?
Because cold + stormy + grey= the official start of Hot Chocolate Season(= the best part of winter). Yep. It was destined to be a good day.


That must have been what I was thinking about while I was buying stamps.
Which may have been the reason I didn't notice the super heavy automatic door swing closed at approximately one billion miles per hour right as I was attempting to leave.
Which is probably the why it smacked me so hard
right in the face.

And now, I may or may not be having a hard time remembering what I am doing, as well as getting my eyes to focus correctly(needless to say this post has taken an eternity to... I want candy).






But I think the important thing to remember here is, first, don't blame the chocolate.
And second, today will still be a great day. Even if I may not remember it tomorrow.

So I will cherish this black eye
as a souvenir of the first day of hot chocolate,
and the last day
I ever went to the post office.

-MD

Language Barrier.

Apparently,
I seriously
need to practice my haircutter.

You know, that language you speak only when in the salon chair?

For most it comes naturally: you walk in the salon a normal, English-speaking human, and the second your hair alterations begin, bam! You're suddenly speaking about bangs and blow dryers as if they were your best personality traits.

Unfortunately however, not all of us are so fluent in the haircut dialect.

Sometimes phrases like "just a trim" and "two inches" can fail to translate properly and end up sounding more like "8.6 inches" and "feel free to just take your garden shears to my head".

In such cases I have found, from (yesterday's) personal experience, that it is helpful to do what I did, as to not to seriously offend your hairdresser in her own native tongue:

One. When placed in front of a mirror and asked "what you think", try contain your shock by exposing as many of your teeth as possible and using only the word "wow".

Two. Try not to look. Make up an excuse for needing to rush home. Ie: my parakeet needs me.

Three. Don't cry until you are out of the parking lot.

Four. If you start to cry a little before reaching the parking lot, pretend to sneeze twice.

And Five.
Until it grows back,
don't underestimate
the power of a bun.

Inadvertent creepiness.

Today I went to lunch by myself. Something that, as a fully committed people person with a secret fear of quiet places, I rarely do.

Except if I'm starving. And it's Friday. And work is especially slow. And my ADD is especially acute. Along with maybe some PMS. And my attitude toward the universe in general can be summed up by the word "meh".

In which case the only thing to do is to climb into a corner booth and order everything you never dared eat in the presence of a an attractive male, or really in the presence of any other human.

So I did just that. I took care to pick the most secluded table of the darkest corner of the restaurant to as to ensure that my lonely ritual of face-stuffing could be enjoyed in peace. Or so I thought. Because as my order arrived I looked up to notice an older gentleman quite conspicuously staring me down.

I'm sure he's just wondering where my date is. Maybe he feels sorry for me. Is that why he's frowning like that? Geez he's not even trying to look away. This is weird.

I looked around and noticed the family of four to my right giving me the same look

Is there something on my face?? Maybe if I pretend to text someone will they think I ordered this for two...

I glanced at the group of women to my left, obviously on break from some kind of hair salon, and caught them stealing glances right back at me.

Why are they all eating salads? I don't normally eat this much bacon I swear...
There's the old dude again. Man, does he ever blink??

Alright people, maybe I AM here by myself, and maybe I DO spill on myself like a five-year-old, and maybe this IS a weeks worth of calories in one sitting. Whatever. Stare all you want weirdos!

And as I finished my gluttonous meal and stood up to leave, this is what I saw.

Right. Above. My head.



Not sure how I didn't notice that on my way in,
but I think it's safe to say
I solved the mystery of the creepiness.





(Go 49ers)