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Gift box
By ELB | November 30, 2007
Two days ago we learned that, after today, Brian would no longer have a job. On that same day we found this out, my Mom sent a box of toys and stuff for HGB. He and I were playing with the toys and watching “Thomas the Tank Engine” and I figured that, since all the vehicles on the Island of Sodor had names, these new toys needed names as well.
On Monday of this week I was officially turned down for the job that I was kinda counting on getting. Not the south side job, this other place that I was freelancing for. That rejection set off a 3 day no showering binge that really put me over the top. So when I learned that we would soon both be unemployed, I figured it was time to step up. And what better way to do that then to dye my hair.
When I went to brush my hair, I found that the whole under part had matted into one of those semi-circular travel neck pillows. The brush was not at all penetrating this hedgerow on my head. I have officially reached the point in my depression that I am no longer concerned with taking care of myself. Just as I started to panic and reach for the deep cholesterol treatment, the whole mass gave and I knew I had to go for the vigorous brushing.
Don’t worry, it all turned out fine; there are no bald patches. It did force me to realize that I need to pull myself together. I’m not entirely sure what I need to do in order to scrape myself out of my chair.
Topics: Generalized Pics, Television | 3 Comments »
November 30th, 2007 at 2:23 pm
Um… shit!!! You can share with me my 200 square foot Washington, D.C. efficiency. I have plenty of whiskey and beer. Boilermakers!! Trucky is totally allowed to come, too. I mean, even without you.
What word on the South Side job?
November 30th, 2007 at 11:48 pm
Proof we are related: you write about being jobless, husband jobless, depressed, needing hand up not a handout, trying to drudge up that patented pluck and moxie to pull it all together–but all I can focus on is the utter panic that your hair might not be ok. I mean seriously–lots of people have a JOB, but there are no manes on earth with the fierceness of a Clay girl’s! Thank god the cholesterol worked. I was going to send you some of my peppermint Crew. Now that’s blood.
Seriously, is there something genetic about extreme hair vanity?
December 1st, 2007 at 10:55 am
That’s gotta be it. I mean, you’ve talked to my sister about her hair. It’s the same story there. Not to mention the fact that our dads are on either side of 60 and they have the lusher locks than a man half their age.
Jobs come and go, but hair is forever.