Friday

I’ve been working over-time for the past month in anticipation of having the entire next week spent non-working, and while I left myriad notes and instructions to be used in my absence, I still might have forwarded my work email to my home email account because (I’m crazy, and) I’m pretty sure someone is going to have a crisis mid-week, and I’d like to be able to anticipate a crisis, should there be one, so I don’t answer the phone drunk “Kerri’s BlogHer Bungalow, how may I help you?”

Friday afternoon I also decided that my newfound ability at losing contests I enter should not deter me from showing the entire internet what I look like when my hair is committing hari kari, and do you have any idea how hard it is to spell hari kari correctly when your name is Kerri and all you want to do is write Hairy Kerri? REALLY HARD.

What was I saying? Oh, right. So there is this contest, wherein if I win someone much wiser and more hair stylish than I tells me how to cut and potentially color my hair, and then I obey, because much wiser and more hair stylish, remember? And also? The new ‘do is on the proverbial house. Which is decidedly quite rad.

So, without further adieu, here is my blast from the past hair picture, alternately titled In Fifth Grade I Totally Had A Mullet, Thanks! Mom:

I’m sure you can plainly see The Mullet, in all its top-heavy glory, but can you also see that on this particular school picture day I saw fit to CRIMP my hair? This picture is a large percentage of the reason I believe hair crimping outside of Halloween or 1980’s parodies should be outlawed, and crimping itself should be one of the Seven Deadly Sins Of Hair, secondly only to feather bangs.

Exhibit: Kerri with an OK hair day, though I can’t remember the last time I had a good! or even great! hair day, because my hair, it is pesky, and difficult, and my “best” hair day might have been this day, which was YEARS ago now, and that picture was taken directly after I walked out of a salon where I had just left half my checkbook’s soul:

That picture was taken last weekend, pre-date night.

And one more from the Really Horrible Hair archives, for good measure:

To this day I remember (how ridiculous my hair looked, yes, and) how ridiculously uncomfortable that bra-forsaken dress was that I am wearing in that picture. The fake rhinestone studded top dug into my real non-rhinestone studded chest, and by the end of the day I vowed that after the reception I would dig a hole in our backyard garden and bury it.

To summarize:
Dear Hair Thursday, I need help. Please.

Forever frizzy,
Kerri Anne

Saturday

After a three-steak laden Last Supper in honor of Chantel’s last official night as an Oregon resident, we met her and her San Francisco Man & Co. for brunch at The Doug Fir, wherein our not so topical mid-morning meal conversation most likely offended nearly everyone sitting within earshot. I take no responsibility for the afore-mentioned offending, if only because I was not one of the three psychologists who have taught human sexuality classes at PSU sitting at the table, and also because I did not start the conversation about Mardi Gras in New Orleans which frighteningly segued into the right vs. wrong way to birth a child.

Despite the fact that our conversation was probably a bit too, um, crazy? for so early in the morning, it was also hilarious, and while it surely hasn’t sunk in that as of Saturday I’m no longer going to be able to see Chantel’s lovely face whenever I want to, I am very much looking forward to seeing her lovely face again this upcoming week, when I visit her new city for the first time ever. I’ll be sure to wear some flowers in my hair.

On Saturday night our favorite newlyweds! Meggan and Daniel came over for Ridiculously Awesome Movie Night, The First. There were also ridiculously large amounts of cheese. And grapes, for balance.

We watched Cloverfield, which was actually quite a bit better than I expected it to be, mostly because it wasn’t nearly so topple-camera-in-The-Blair-Witch style as I had heard it was, and thus, I wasn’t dizzy the entire time. There was actually some really great cinematography, and the ending, although mostly sad and disappointing–from a We Have No Idea What Happened, And Did The Creature Ever DIE? standpoint– it was also well done and realistic. You know, except for the whole Giant Maybe Sea Creature That Doesn’t Ever Die part.

Sunday

My first ever! manicure: $20.00. A relaxing pedicure with foot and leg massage + leather chair massagers that made every woman in the place look like they were doing the shimmy: $30.00. An afternoon with Rhi + an amazing new lunch destination within walking distance to love + toes that I’m not embarrassed to proudly feature via sandals: priceless.

For everything else, there’s Mastercard cash, because the nail salon doesn’t accept anything else.

Operation: Procure Another Portable AC Unit was a complete fail. How Chris feels about Operation: Procure Another Portable AC Unite being a complete fail:

That’s his I’m Quite Annoyed face. Long live the box fan.

In other weekend-related news, we found all of these in the car on Sunday afternoon, right after we finished weeping and gnashing our teeth about our impending non-air-conditioned living room, and right before we realized that an apartment that doubles as a sauna in the summer could have its perks (see: limited wearing of pants):

(They were all empty.)

Apparently we feel rather strongly about having minty fresh breath on a routine basis.