hair history highlights

My hair is not normal. I've always known it, but today I realized that my talks with strangers include my hair more often than my name. It's a conversation-starter, really. Following suit, these "hair history highlights" (no pun intended) answer my most Frequently Asked Questions as well as a few extras:

• 1981, born with curly hair compliments of both my parents
• roll hair up in a round brush (haven't we all done that?) at the age of 4, older brother to the rescue with scissors while mom sleeps
• start "styling" my own hair in 2nd grade, my favorite "do" being one side half-up with a green-and-black-polka-dot-ribbon-adorned barrett
• bangs, edition one, start in 4th grade and continue through 6th in a fluff-up, to-the-side number
• my hair-referring nickname "Mushroom" (as conceived by the older brother and friends) overtakes the elementary schoolbus
• curl and frizz take a drastic turn for the worse in junior high
• mousse is introduced for the first time in the summer after seventh grade, and immediately applied to:
• the 8th grade "year of the bun," a tightly-combed version of the ballerina with a twist and a favorite navy scrunchie. every day.
• bangs are reintroduced in ninth grade and (unfortunately) continue through early senior year (see picture at right); this time with a 1 1/2 inch barrel curling iron and 30 minutes of frustration each morning
• mousse in its modern form is adopted freshman year in the form of "Wednesdays only," later extended at the encouragement of friends
• Costco's solitary mousse option is Herbal Essences, securing my allegiance at an early age
• as a soph, I take on the first of two "bets" with my dad to go mousse-free for one week (he likes the "natural"). Conditions include: no ponytails, no disclosing payment, bangs ok.
• five total "straight hair!" events include: 1. fall formal, sophomore year (4.5 hours worth of hair-blow drying and flattening irons*); 2. fall formal, junior year (2.5 hours worth of flattening irons*); 3. senior year "crush party," in efforts to play the part of Demi Moore (2 hours, technique perfected); 4. by stylist in Mexico in the fall of 2004 (4 hrs due to the guy's inexperience with a blow-dryer); and 5. Thursday! (1.5 hrs with just a blow-dryer but a lot of ripped-out hair).
• "big hair" has made the calendar just once (ghetto formal 2004**) and is not expected to return without enormous compensation

I've scientifically tested every mousse brand on earth and am an Herbal Essences loyalist, so my latest challenge has been its inavailability here in Spain. I strategically request a can or two of every visitor- whether or not I know them- and have worked up a decent stockpile for the moment.

Good thing, or it'll be a return to the bun.

*special thanks to Meri, KT
**frizzing by Kristy and KT

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MERI!

Today is Meri's birthday. It also marks our five-year anniversary (or very close to it) of having met. Mmm, strike that, we actually met at NSO in July. Sorry I missed our anniversary, Meri. Anyway, HAPPY BIRTHDAY! and anniversary, observed.

And so, a small tribute to Meri:

• diet coke (although preferably diet pepsi, and even better through the nose)
• chicken caesar salad (even if it means george foreman grilling in the dorms)
• coogie's zucchini bread (well, and chicken caesar salad)
• duhsies, hmmsies, brrrsies
• always cold (thus... London)
• white fingers
• "jared" and the laptop incident
• volleyball (tourney champs... and Chip?)
• stalking (example: britney spears)
• always switching into one of my classes (highlights include: adler, miguel and felipe; dr. summers and john mayer's "woo ooo ooo"; exchanging schaffer and seshan tips)
• peeps
• pi phi and big bear retreats
• CBC hangouts
• convertible top hang-ons
• the one song she can still play on the piano
• sleepovers (and Thanksgiving!) in Anaheim Hills
• Hurley and J.D. Power interviews ("so, you like cars?")
• mandy moore
• stalker-contracting
• 7th man
• formal date finding
• G-Dogg's killer brownies
• email consulting
• meri's music mixes
• "the favorite"

Most certainly incomplete, but perhaps I'll add more as they occur to me.

Happy Birthday (and anniversary) Meri!!!

MY toast acoustic

I was just sitting down to write when I heard the toaster go off. Oh, but this is no ordinary toaster: it's the MY toast acoustic by Taurus, which claims to be the only toaster on the market to visually and acoustically notify when the toast is ready! Ah, good, because the sight and sound of toast popping up never quite got through to me. Nothing like a little high-pitched beeping and blinking red lights to start the morning off right. I don't really like- or eat- toast, but I've considered setting it to "really dark" one night to see if it will serve as my morning alarm clock and thereby justify the counter space. But I don't want this to come off too negative; I'm told it actually works really well so, hey, to each her toast.

spanish-english shirts

I hesitate in posting today, knowing full-well that pressing "publish" will bump my "missing skirt" story off the front page. It's my favorite post, after all, and recounts my life's most traumatic experience to date- how can I not milk that for all its worth? I suppose I could change my settings to include more than 7 posts on the front page, but I think that's kind of cheating... and anyway I like seven. What's great is that with the missing skirt passing into archives today, I am given the chance to talk about it here! Front page! First post! and I'll probably bring it up again when it disappears off the "previous posts" sidebar and finally goes to rest in the unsuspecting "July" folder as well.

For today, I simply have to post. I just got off the metro, where I was sitting across from a girl with a shirt reading USA SPORT (and then, below) munber #23. That's right, munber, and that to complement the pound sign in case you weren't sure what it stands for. He he he. Of course, this served only to remind me of Spain's incredible amount of english-printed shirts that- in my opinion- a native English speaker would never, ever buy. If only I could remember them all. I should really be taking pictures because some of them are downright indescribable, but we'll see what I can do. To start, Zara has just introduced its fall collection, boasting an entire line screen-printed with Fairy Ladies above some flying tinkerbell-type characters. Not bad English, by any means, but fairy ladies? I don't know. Another Zara line consists of shirts each with a large, silver letter above a word and its definition. My favorite? R for release (n.) liberation (of gas, etc). Need I comment?!? An H&M example: SEE THE SEA printed in silver caps on a dark purple t-shirt. Is that an order? An invite? Where? And a final, brilliant Zara edition: Forever and never, white and silver on black. Granted, they could have done that on purpose... ? I don't want to say I've never made a mistake in Spanish (ha! understatement!); for example, I once said I was a pig instead of saying I was blind. Then again, I'm not printing t-shirts.

green tea again

I bought green tea yogurt yesterday. I guess I'm still a little frustrated with 1) Starbucks of Europe for not introducing the new Green Tea Frappucino, and 2) my subsequent inability to cast a deciding vote on the matter: "refreshing" (Meri) or "crap-frap" (Dan). But back to the yogurt. Yesterday I didn't even know they made green tea yogurt, and today I was having it for breakfast. It was... interesting. Interesting, but not life-changing. Not life-changing, but still good. Good, but I probably won't buy it again. I know, I know, I can't go around judging a Starbucks Frap by a Dannon yogurt, but it's as close as I can get for now. In the end, I'm back to where I started- neutral- and have resigned myself to awaiting the real deal. Vote?

P.S. PICTURES ARE UPDATED! PICTURES ARE UPDATED!

grand theft

"STOP! THIEF!" I screamed. Well, or at least I would have, had I realized I was getting pick-pocketed. Pick-pursed, actually.

It had to have happened as I was going down the steps from the Reina Sofia. Broad daylight. No crowds. Embarassing. No excuse for it, really. Three of my friends had been pick-pocketed since February, and you'd think that just one of those events would have served to provide me a decent warning. But no, I walked down those steps as nonchalantly as ever, my easy-zip purse on the backside. In the end, I must count myself lucky; it appears as if my pilfering pal had time enough to take only 40 euros and my green-striped Post-it book, thankfully leaving my credit cards, licenses, digi-cam, cellphone, and even my metro pass in peace. That said, the open-zipper realization --> sinking heart sensation made me feel quite violated. It's sad to be reminded that yes, this is the world we live in, but I do remain grateful for the limited loss and hope that my friend needed the money more than I. He/she probably just had to buy a nice shirt for a job interview to finally get back on his/her feet, right?

Didn't need to take my green-striped Post-it book though.

on holiday

All stories aside, I thought it high time I return to my webpage's original objective and provide a mini update of what (in the world) I've been up to lately.

I wrapped up the last of my program's classes and projects about three weeks ago, and have therefore been on so-called vacation ever since. Unfortunately, those three weeks were filled primarily by internship research, applications, and interviews. On Monday, I finally got the offer I was waiting for: an internship in the Investment Banking department of BBVA for the (incredible) sum of E450/month. It's a six-month post, but since the entirety of Spain seems to take the entirety of August off, I start at 9am on Monday, the 5th of September. In other words, I'm back on vacation, and this time for real. That said, the majority of my friends (including all of my apartment mates) were a little more timely in the job search and can now be counted among the five-odd percent of Spain that doesn't get August off. That means vacation solo.

A typical day would consist of going to sleep at 2:30, getting up at 10:30, and then strategically choosing among the following activities:

• read (emails, articles, books (Harry Potter, El Alquimista, The Buddha of Suburbia))
• write (emails, journal, blog)
• think (life plan, Spain reflection, travel ideas)
• shower
• cook (breakfast, lunch, dinner, Thursday desserts)
• research (companies, jobs, mass-email prep)
• look up train/plane times and prices to assorted destinations
• take a walk
• clean the apartment
• go downtown/to a museum/people watching
• listen to music
• watch a movie
• paint fingernails
• paint toenails
• go to the park
• shop (you know, groceries)
• organize (room, computer (iTunes, photos), clothes, closet)
• do laundry
• relax
  

That's all that occurs to me right now. Time for option #5.

the aspirations of a foot model

It was early fall of my sophomore year of high school and we were standing around, talking, and generally waiting for the end-of-lunch-bell when one of my friends suddenly pointed down and said to me, "you have cute feet." Looking down at my open-toed, Jesus-style-sandaled toes and then performing a quick-scan of my friends' similarly-clad feet, I realized she was right. So right, in fact, that I insisted on wearing my open-toed, Jesus-style-sandals until it snowed.

Okay, not quite, but it did get me to thinking... foot modeling. I mean, that's got to be pretty easy money. I could do nail polishes, acrylics, toe jewelry, and would know I'd hit it big if ever chosen to be the "after" model in the warts or athletes foot commercials. Not a lot of time, not a lot of labor, minimal risk from celebrity-stalkers, why not?!

It's been almost eight years since my sophomore-year realization, and I've not a single photo shoot to speak of. It's my own fault. I always figured that the nail places would be where the scouts hang out (or at least where they receive tips from), and yet I've barely ventured in for a pedicure twice- and both for weddings, where all the bridesmaids are running around and creating an atmosphere far from the ideal negotiating conditions. I must also admit that my pepp friends were not nearly as supportive of my ambition as were my hometown friends, although perhaps my little toes do curl in slightly. In any case, since then I've suffered from the loss of two toenails (left, fourth toe from a good stub last year and right, big toe from raquetball last fall) and only TODAY have I declared the second of the two completely, 100% recovered! I am back on the market! Now if I can just straighten out those little toes...

the day has come

I always knew it would. My worst fear in creating my so-called "blog" has come to pass: I have nothing to say. Come on. I haven't even gotten past my secret testing stage yet, and I'm already at a loss. Guess that's what happens when Meri and Dan call an apparent truce and stop fighting about Green Tea Frappucinos. In any case, it's times like these that a person has three (fairly obvious) options: 1) don't write anything, and bare the risk of subsequent reader shrinkage (unthinkable!), 2) force-write something (not recommended), or 3) address the matter and then ramble on about it in hopes of a sudden, brilliant idea (also not recommended). I've obviously chosen option 3, but must admit I'd rather hoped that the sudden, brilliant idea would have come to me by now, whereupon I would delete the above paragraph with no one the wiser.

But, this being an honest and historically-accurate web page, I will leave it at that and go fold my laundry. Now that's a brilliant idea.