Why are the longest workdays…

the ones before haircuts?

I’m going tonight to get my hair done.  And I don’t know why, but it’s always such a big decision–even if I don’t get much done!  Any of you other women get extremely anxious when you have to decide what to do with your hair?

This chick kinda looks like I did when I was a wee one.

I kinda want to do something different.  I kind of don’t.

I really liked it short the last time I cut it, but part of me wants to start growing my hair.

This is where it gets different…MIKE, IF YOU ARE READING THIS, QUIT READING NOW!

Really, go away.

Mike, leave.

Are you gone?

Ok.

I’d grow my hair out…no questions asked…if I knew that I was going to be getting married soon.  I want to be able to put my hair up.  But as that is not happening in the near future, I feel like I should cherish my time with my short hair.  PLUS, my hair looks kinda creepy and scraggly when it’s long, especially without a professional to do it for me every day.  Ugh.  What to do!

 

Now that I’ve cut my fur off again…

I’m looking desperately for cute hair accessories.  First, here’s the new fur–supa short!:

Okay, now.  Let’s find me some cute fur accessories (click the link to buy it for me!):

Happy buying!  And happy Friday!

 

MAGIC Camp – Gender Roles – Clearing Things Up

Yesterday, you may have noticed my suspiciously missing post.  I know I know, I never miss a weekday!  But this time, I had good reason.

The content in this post must be in the air, as my friend Jarvis addressed both online and to his class in this post.

I spent all yesterday in Euclid, Ohio filming a camp dedicated to showing women that they can be involved in construction.  Whether it’s out in the field swinging a hammer or running a forklift to in the office, managing the financials and selling the service.  Or Hell, like me, in the Marketing Department of a software company that makes accounting software for construction.

The point is that I think women in construction is a great idea.  Women are fully capable of doing any job in the construction spectrum.

I know that you all think that I’m one of those “Why doesn’t a woman need a watch? Because there’s a clock on the stove” kinda women.  But I’m truly not.  I can celebrate women in the workplace (duh, I am one) and I have absolutely no problem with women who are powerful, driven, etc.

What I do have a problem with are people in general (men and women) who feel overly entitled, or who are fighting too hard for a battle that’s already won.  I don’t always know how to handle extremists when I can’t see a reason for their being extreme.  For instance, today I posted the following:  Ladies—-pay the money to get your hair done. It’s an accessory that you wear EVERY DAY.

Some people rejoiced.  Others, like Jarvis, thought that I was discounting men as being able to pay to get their hair done.  I was not in any way chastising men for doing this, nor was I suggesting that they shouldn’t do it.  I just left your gender out of a post, and immediately you felt offended and entitled to attack me for it.  Which you may have been.  😉

Go to a barbershop or a salon or wherever it is you want to go.   Women can work in construction.  Men can be hairdressers.  Women can wear pants now, and men can use an unusual amount of hair product.  We will all always judge what others do, but it’s all subjective.  I don’t think men should wear skinny jeans, but I don’t think anyone should wear skinny jeans to be honest.

In his post, Jarvis asks his students:

“If a guy sees a girl, and she is wearing jeans and a white t-shirt and short hair, and he says, she looks like a guy, what if the girl says, no, you look like me.  I’m a girl, so you look like a girl. What happens in this situation?”

I say to each their own.  If you have to point something out like that, then you shouldn’t be saying it anyway.  And I’m not sure this conversation would actually happen this day in age.

If you refer back to my posts about men and what a man is and blah blah blah, you can easily assume that this post is a bunch of pompous bullshit.  What I was describing in all those posts on my PERSONAL blog are my PERSONAL feelings about what I like about men, what kind of men I am attracted to, and the type of man I seek out as a husband.  That is all.

 

My Favorite Parts of the Body-Female and Male

Well, I did my least favorite parts of the body.  I ought to address my favorites.  You can go ahead and call me sexist now, because I appreciate far less on the female body than I do on the male body.  Or maybe it’s because I’m just wildly attracted to the male species.

So we’ll start with chicks:

Because I do not look at the details of females, these will be more of an overview:
•  The general silhouette of women is pretty.  I like the hips, I like the dips, and I think that if a woman lies on her side, she generally looks like the hills in the Appalachian Mountains.  It’s very natural to me.
•  I can always appreciate a good, shiny head of hair.
•  …that’s it.  It’s not that I don’t find women beautiful; it’s just that I’d rather spend my time oggling men.  They are far more intriguing to me.

But men on the other hand?  MEN?!  Well I could just go on and on.  I suppose the best way to do this would be to approach it in the way that I look at men.  So let’s set this up.  I’m sitting at a patio bar, and the sun is shining and there’s a cool westerly wind.  The margarita tastes divine and I’m feelin’ good in my skin.  And then he walks in.

Of course I covertly give him a once over.  At that point, I go for the hands.

•  Hands I do this for multiple reasons.  First of all, if I end up dating this guy, those are the hands he’s going to be using to hold my hand, to move the hair out of my face, and a few other things, so they’ve gotta be good hands.  What constitutes as good hands?  Strong ones.  Ones that aren’t lotioned and lathered, but callused and rough.  Thick fingers, short fingernails, and some scars are always a nice addition.  The point is that good man hands demonstrate work and ability.  They can withstand struggles and move mountains.  I respect dirt and oil that is permanently in the creases of their palms, and I even forgive dirt under the fingernails.  It’s just so hot.  I also look to see if there’s a wedding ring.  While it’s unintentional and DARN sexy, I do respect marriage and will immediately discount him.

•  Height Height is important to me.  It’s shallow, and it makes me a bitch (I’m not doing so well at the not cussing bit)?  So be it.  It’s not exactly a body part, but it’s a culmination of body parts–long legs, long arms, long torso, just HEIGHT.

•  Shoulders Broad broad broad.  Broad enough to support weight and bulk.  I’ve seen men in my life lug bags of salt down the steps to the water softener, carry luggage, children, barrels, kegs, adults, ME.  I’ve been carried over broad shoulders, and I’m not bean pole.  To me, broad shoulders signify strength and courage.  I don’t know why they resemble courage, just roll with it.  If you’ve ever tried to settle your head on a not-broad shoulder, you know how unsatisfying it is.  To lie down in the crook of a mine’s arm, put your head onto his shoulder and fall asleep…well that’s just one of the things heaven is made of.

• Jawline A strong jawline says a lot about a man.  Again, it’s a strength thing.  A prestige thing.  A man with a strong jawline eats jerky and speaks his mind.  He defends others.  He gets angry, and diffuses it by gritting his teeth.  I love seeing a man work his jaw when he’s trying to change a tire or raise a barn.

• Beard This kind of goes with jawline, but I am completely into a man who has the ability to grow a beard.  This does not mean I want Paul Bunyan kissing me goodnight, but I do require a little scruff.  My boyfriend has a goatee, and if he doesn’t have an important meeting for a job interview, he lets that five o’clock shadow grow for a couple days.  And I couldn’t be more grateful.  Something about kissing someone with stubble that reminds you, “Hey, you’re with a man.”

•  Chest hair Which leads me to chest hair.  It’s not a requirement, but it sure gets you major bonus points.  And men who are out there shaving or waxing your chests–QUIT IT.  If you can’t grow chest hair, it’s cool.  It wasn’t in your genes.  But if you can, by God let that forest GROW!  If I wanted to date someone who shaved more than his face, I’d date a woman.

• Smile I’m a sucker for a crooked smile.

• Eyes For leering eyes, the kind that can give you chills from across the room.

•  Butt Most men don’t have them, but when they do, mmhmm.  That’s part of the reason I go to baseball games.

•  Long hair… Mike is going to get so annoyed with me for putting this one on here…seeing as he doesn’t have really long hair.  He did at one time, and if I can scrounge up some files of Mike’s old hair, I will gladly post them.  The long hair thing isn’t a necessity either, but there’s something wild about a man who’ll let it grow like that.  Something untamed that just begs for me to make him fall in love with me.   (Sorry for the influx of Brad Pitt here at the end, but he’s a mighty fine example of everything I love–especially in Legends of the Fall.)

What revs you up?

 

Getting My Fur Done

So this is my new “fur” and  I like it a lot–so for one of the first times since I graduated, I took emo pictures of myself in my kitchen before work.  🙂

You’re wondering why the hell I’m calling it “fur,” right?  Well, I’m going to go ahead and blame this one of my father–who taught me to speak in the oddest accent/dialect/language that I’ve ever heard.

Just to give you few examples:

Otter-water. As in-As my father and I drove over the Sandusky River after a heavy rain, he looked at me and said, “Otter high!”

Fur-hair. As in-Hugging my father often resulted in him sneezing and saying, “Get your fur outta my face.”

Pawdles-hands. As in-Upon playing in the dirt and digging to China, my mother called us in for dinner, and my father said, “Wash your pawdles.”

Doogs and Poopies-dogs and puppies. As in-“Hey, Hoot.  That doog just had poopies.”

Noonles-noodles. As in-“You want noonles or rice?”

There are more, but I cannot remember them.  For now, thank you Daddy for teaching me to call it fur.  And then you Amanda for making it pretty!

Happy Friday!