"How do I look?" "Like a Beautiful Blonde Pineapple!!"

I've realized that most people think that I have literally fallen off the face of the earth. It is not so, and I'm sure you are relieved-me too for that matter. While going blog-silent for the last couple months, I have embarked on a new adventure. One that will undoubtedly bring many laughs for future blog posts. My new adventure is beauty school. So I am here in Rexburg, and about 2 months in, and so far it's not too shabby! I have thus far been desensitized to feet-thanks to pedicures, because flats are for quitters I am definitely one, since I more or less am required to see myself in the mirror for 8 hours every day, I avoid mirrors outside of school at all costs, and am developing calluses from teasing Miss Kim's hair every day! Here's the lowdown. I go to school with 50 girls every day, one the token gay. Who hates me to my back, loves me to my face, and like an attention starved child gets ignored to keep him in line. Apparently he doesn't like other people to know more about pop culture, fashion, and music than he. Everything I know about pop culture and music I owe to my wise pop culture friends in Moses Lake!!! Thanks for culturing me for this very moment in my life. Sorry Mr. Queen, but there is only room for one diva at school, and there are 49 other girls fighting for the coveted title. So watch out, or you're about to get your fancy striped suspenders snapped right into last place!

At first I was really intimidated by beauty school, but then I thought, ok I've seen Tabatha's Salon Takeover, and if these morons can get through beauty school and someone signed their professional license, then hell if I can't do it too! And after a few weeks of school, I kind of have a knack for it.

A very smart cousin (Sonja), after I mentioned that I was going to hair school and was growing my hair out, told me once that when I start hair school, to just wait and watch my hair get shorter, and shorter, and shorter. Oh how naive I was!!!

The Metamorphosis

The Beginning

Week #1 of school, I made a blueprint of what I would like to do to my hair-with the hopes that it won't melt off of course. Week #2 Perm. Yea. I said it. Perm. That happened.

Week #3 Highlights because my teacher was annoyed with the grow out of my previous ones. And Sonja, just so you know, he was very impressed with your work. Well done!

Week #5 Snippy Snip Snip. Cut it all off.

To Be Continued...

The Rest of these pictures are just some fun stuff we've done in class and us playing around.

This was after I brushed my hair out to do scalp treatments on eachother, they said I looked like a troll doll!

This was manicure day!

And this is an updo that I did on Miss Kimmie, which turned out quite well!

Enjoy!

And That's The Gospel Truth.

One Word: Slater. Not A.C. Not Kelly. But my Slater of the sweet sweet Christian persuasion. As many of you know, and as I have probably blogged about before, I love me some Christian Slater. Usually I'm not a fan of the hair helmet, but Christian has the bone structure and forehead for it, besides who doesn't want to be the one to blame for mussing up those perfect tresses? I wouldn't kick him out of bed for eating crackers.

But I digress. Recently a good friend of mine, has been called to teach Sunday School. Normally it would be cause for severe dread, and an excess of skipping out early from my ecclesiastical duties, mainly because we all know, that when friends become important with responsibilities, then you become fodder for their hoity toity cannons. So naturally I was afraid I'd get called on to read or give pence to the discussion. However scared I was to go to class, I pulled together and went. Back row of course. Said friend began his lesson, and about halfway through the lesson as I sat contemplating my soon impending doom and demise, I was comforted by one thing, and one thing only. The mention of Christian Slater. Instantly my ears began buzzing, my blood percolating, and my eyes dilating while visions of Christian Slater danced in my head. Pump Up the Volume as Happy Harry Hardon, Interview with the Vampire, Bed of Roses, and Robin Hood. Robin Hood, say what? Yes I did. And so did Clinton, the teacher. Dead set on publicly mortifying me (I believe), he brought up Christian Slater's character from Robin Hood, the mysterious Will Scarlett.

Clinton knows of my affection. And although I applaud Clinton's candor about my very much private feelings to the class, I frankly, was elated at the mention of Mr. Slater!! He was talking about the birthright, and posed the question why Robin Hood was the chosen son instead of Will Scarlett. Twas a good thing the query wasn't extended my way, for I all I would have-could have-answered was, "I do love me some Christian Slater!" So now, it is Clinton's challenge and duty, to somehow tie the gospel to something Christian, pun intended. You know what they say, "something old, something blue, something Christian, something true!!"

P.S. For those allegations that he beat up that hooker...be them as they may, I don't care. Did anyone ever think she might have deserved it? Gotta keep the pimp hand strong, right? Just what is it about this 'bad boy' that keeps my other thoughts in such great company? Is it the ‘eyebrow’ thing? Most definitely. It’s the suggestion, the hint and the intrigue of a thousand possibilities.

18 Comments and Counting...

As most of you know, I go through rather drastic creative spurts. Here and there. Now and Then. Sometimes (every day) the pessimist gets the best of me when nobody comments on my true life happenings. Much to my chagrin, I'm vain-shocker, I know. I pride myself on...well...me. And unlike those other uncultured artists who try harder when they get no accolades, I find that my pride is directly correlated to the amount of comments I get. I'm not asking for comments. Just a little reassurance that people actually think of me. Whether positive or negative. Perhaps nobody believes them and they say to themselves: "What a tangled web of lies this psycho weaves. " Or maybe, "This girl is a liar face to the max, and I refuse to comment on her falsities." Or the occasional, "I am so many shades of offended right now! SHUN!" Am I a liar? Of course. A rather good one I must say. Is my life a big huge fallacy? One worthy of a True Life episode on the tele. A day isn't complete without the inaugural planting of a colorful liars tree, with many swirly twirly branches, and blossoms of white...lies that is. But, be that as it may. I retreat into my mental pit of despair-complete with Albino henchman-when comments on my precious babies are lacking. But alas, sun through the clouds! My perma-tantrum has been alleviated!!! Thanks to a certain person named "Anonymous". Yes. That's their name. They commented SO much on my last blog, that I needn't worry ever again that nobody cares!!! Because you my friend care way too much about my happiness. And I thank you for the website links about male enhancement. They shall be dually noted for a future husby. How did you know that my sex life is unsatisfying? You sneak! You wily sorcerer!! You know what this woman wants. I shall wear thy comments as medals around my neck. Battle scars if you will. Momma always said be careful what you wish for! However, I'm not so sure I regret it ;)

P.S.

My Dearest Anonymous,

I very much enjoyed your take on different varieties of hookah I might like. I would greatly appreciate further comments with other "helpful" products. Maybe you can find in your secret marketplace a pill that you can put in water to grow a hot boyfriend that is mute, and has kisses like white hot fire. Thanks again for your tips. I look forward to more correspondence from you.

Anxiously awaiting your reply,

Gwen The Vain