Mirror, Mirror

I'm a Persian girl. We middle eastern girls love us some hair-removal conversation. It's true. Afternoons have passed with a delightful repartee of online chat with my girlfriends regarding the best pricing for laser this or the best tip for waxing that. It comes with the cultural territory. My story isn't graphic, just sad. Sit down, for I seek comfort.

You see, yesterday I had eyebrows. In fact, I arguably had too much eyebrow, so I sought the care of a certified professional whom I had visited once before for said service. I entered her lair of muzak and dim lighting. We were chit-chatting and gossipping (clearly I have been too busy doing it to learn how to conjugate it properly), and before i knew it, I felt pain in a new part of my eyebrow. It just felt wrong. Bad touching.

I probably don't have to tell you that I emerged with part of my eyebrow missing. I wish I could tell you it was the top, extraneous bit, or the between-eyebrows bit, but what was missing was the MIDDLE of my eyebrow. There is a hole in my eyebrow. You know the expression "to raise your eyebrow"? That's the part that's missing! And then the end of it is there, like an afterthought.

I took pencil to it for a temporary touch-up and now live in fear of wiping my brow (I'm at a writers conference, sweating is only a natural reaction, having been followed to my room and/or the bathroom before by overzealous talent). Sheesh.

Fortunately I have resources. Tomorrow I will start a discussion thread re: eyebrow transplants, but I won't be happy about it.

Everyone's a Winner in the Game of Life.

Ok, not everyone is a winner in the game of life, but I am! I am officially $25 richer, thank you Sir Blingalot. (click on the image to zoom in- that's right, Lilly G!) What to do -- do I splurge on the perfume I want from Sephora, go with the standby Borders Gift certificate (never can go wrong with that), or dine out? So many options! It's an embarassment of riches really.

I never win anything. Seriously. I realized some of this was in my hands, so one of my new years resolutions was to enter more contests. And here we are.

It's true- I make a 'serious' list of new year's resolutions (be nice/feed the poor/be more active) that I try to honor. But then I also make the "REAL" ones- enter more contests, drink more wine, go on vacation more. Those are clearly the ones I'm better at sticking to. Publishers Clearing House won't even know what hit 'em.

Moths: The Saturday Thoughts of Lillymonster.

Ok, so if butterflies are what you have when you have happy tingles in your stomach, what is it when you have that pit feeling? Let's call it moths. You know when you have that for no good reason? So annoying. I mean, I can think of reasons, but it sucks because it's so beautiful out and it should be against the law to feel like this on a beautiful SoCal day! Write your congressmen, people!

Possible sources for aformentioned icky sentiment:

1) The fact that it's gorgeous out and I'm inside working. Everyone in the greater county of San Diego is at the Gay Pride festival today. I'm tucked away in a cafe, far from the sounds of Erasure's comeback tour.

2) The fact that I'm back from vacation and the real world has reapproached me.

3) The fact that I drank a cup of coffee this morning that I didn't want but ordered out of age-old habit at Big Kitchen (often misidentified as "Big Momma's". There is no scientific reason for this misnomer, but apparently I"m not the only one to occasionally slip).

4) The fact that I didn't sleep very much. Being a newshound, I dreamt about plane crashes. Repeatedly.

5) PMS. I used to think this was made up, minus the cramps thing. But the going-crazy-super-sensitive-Kodak-commercials-damn-that-Butterfly-kisses-song-thing is apparently also true.

6) My friend texted me last week that she was in line for pizza behind my not-very-nice ex. I forget about him until someone brings him up. Blah. He doesn't deserve good Chicago pizza!

7) The fact that last night a guy struck up unsolicited conversation with me to the tune of "you have beautiful skin... no really... like a young asian boy." I wish I could say he was joking. Mr. Internet Sex Offender clarified in case I wasn't sure "like a 9 year old from Thailand or something." Ew. I wish I could say this crap happens to all women, but further investigation shows that it's really just me. I'm alone. Me and the freaks.

8) My gray hairs are multiplying. I have like THREE now! At the rate I'm stressing I fear I'll have stripes a la Lily Munster by the time I turn 30.

9) Which is not far away.

Reasons to be happy:

1) I am not friends with the tall blond drunk girl who was running through Envy last night yelling "We're gonna drop it like it's HOT y'all! We're gonna DROP it like it's HOT!"

2) There was no glass in my breakfast. (I'm just saying.)

3) I don't have any terminal diseases (that I know of).

4) It is a beautiful day out.

5) The fact that the last time I saw Mr. Ex Boyfriend he was wearing a gladiator costume. Not on Halloween, either. ("Poetic Justice, table for one?")

6) Punny is in town. And she's very funny not to mention an incredible partner in crime when it comes to sake bombs.

7) Jessica put a magnet on the fridge that says "everything will be fine in the end. If it's not fine, it's not the end." Being who I am, I had bought a magnet for her at the same time. But that one says "It's better to have loved and lost than to live with the psycho for the rest of your life." Ok, that really did just make me smile.

I'm back.

Rejoice accordingly.

Apparently I have 88% of the world left to conquer:

I am battling what I fear might be a strain of Turkish Throat Death aka strep. Sucks. Me, not be able to talk? I'm sure Jessica enjoyed my relative silence in the car driving back from L.A. I've heard that some people only appreciate enthusiastic George Michael-harmonizing to a point.

Good to be home.