bangs.

The only time I ever like my bangs is when I chop them myself. I can’t explain the highly specific look I’m going for but it’s something like hippie-mental patient.

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to die by your side is such a heavenly way to die

Confession time.

There’s a vapid 16 year old emo girl inside me.

Seriously. I squelch her, for the most part.

But. I totally watch YouTube makeup tutorials and mess around with my palettes of crazy makeup colors while blasting AFI and From Autumn to Ashes.  And want to dye my hair purple and wear stripey leggings and Hello Kitty barrettes and gobs of eyeliner and smoke cigarettes for breakfast and ~**~tYpe liKe tHiS~**~. It’s probably a good thing I didn’t spend my teenage years in an emo-saturated blogging/MySpace/Flickr/Twitter era or I’d have been spending hours in front of the mirror expressing my angst through my eyeliner.

This is one more day on the verge of tears.
And now my head hurts.
And my health is a joke.
Now I got to stop because the headphones broke.


I post cuz the hubby’s outta town and my constructive activities tonight have included playlist-making, music downloading, nail-painting, and eyeliner-caking. (:

a rant. a project. a recipe.

Last week I was accused of being a “traditional, old-fashioned woman” when I was telling a male friend that my weekend plans included baking and cleaning. {They ALWAYS include LOTS of domestic  activities because that’s how life is. Houses don’t clean themselves, dinner doesn’t cook itself… I just happen to like it, too, for the most part. Lucky me.}

I guess it never occurred to me that the fact I dig the homemaking stuff indicates {to some people} I’m in some way a crappy feminist. It’s about choice, people, not about taking over the world {feminism, that is}. Or taking over the world, then making killer brownies later while listening to Tori Amos. Whatever.

So, anyway. In keeping with the good little housewife theme of the weekend, I finished the apron I was working on. This was originally a fug swimsuit coverup-type dress with an elasticy-tubetop thing attached. It was $1 at a thrift store and I liked the fabric because I’m on a serious yellow kick.

I was going to make a skirt out of it. But it dawned on me I could chop off the tube-top part and cut into the shape of an apron easily, similar to those retro halter-style aprons that the kids love these days.  Doing so, and adding some fat gray ribbon ties, and voila!- all that’s missing are the heels and a glass of scotch on the rocks or a pie for my husband when he comes home from a long day. {It’s funny cuz I work more than he does currently. Heeeeeeeeeee}.

In action, making Vegan Banana muffins:…

…which were killer, by the way, and you should make some if you’re a happy homemaker like me. (:  Here’s the recipe.

absolutely one of those days

Dear Diary,

Tonight I’m all dressed up with no place to go. I’ve been in a total funk and have been trying, and failing miserably, to snap out of it.

I dolled myself up this evening and tried to get a fun evening started up and just got shot down by several people, including my husband.

A little back-story. I’m having a horribly lonely weekend. I, no kidding, spent an hour watching Pussycat Dolls music videos on YouTube {which doesn’t do much in the way of increasing my self-esteem. Holy abs, Dolls}.

This afternoon I left my house looking like this {hair tucked in hat, sunglasses on} on an emergency hair-dye/makeup miracle in a bottle run, convinced I’d aged 10 years in the last 2 days because I have freaking under-eye bags. And my eyes are seriously never not bloodshot. I always look like I had a rough night, even with 8 hours of sleep. And has my skin always been so… pasty? And today I had entirely too much time to pick myself apart and drove to Target cursing my skin and hair and thighs {cuz why stop at my face?}. We gals have moments like this {at least, I hope I’m not the only one.}

And then after hours in the mirror coloring and scrubbing and polishing and plucking and straightening and such… I have nowhere to go and I’m back to feeling sorry for myself.

Sometimes I feel like I am just the go-to girl when people need manual labor or a designated driver or a proofreader for their resume. Sometimes I feel like I spend so much of my time waiting around for other people to want me around or have time for me. I don’t do things for people because I have an expectation they will return the favor. But I do things for people I care about secretly hoping they would want to return the favor. I’d never ask. I just want someone to want to hang out for a couple hours on a Sunday night.

Thanks, Diary, for listening.

Oh, P.S. They still totally make Lip Smackers. Today I bought the Skittles kinds. They are totally awesome.

Love, Kellie

thought process

The other day I was totally irritated to find out that my Marketing class that starts next week is going to be on Wednesday nights, from 530-930, because that totally overlaps the yoga abs class at my gym, which is from 630-730.

That I barely ever go to.

Then today I saw that they moved yoga class to Tuesday nights. And then I was secretly bummed because I no longer had an excuse for skipping yoga.

This sums up my life.