...i feel bad
09.11.05
And I got a letter from the Post Office admonishing me for not using the correct format for my address. When I mail things out, I use a pre-printed address label that says the right thing, and that's the address I give to people. However, people will write whatever version of your address that they want to use as your address when they send you things, and you really can't make them do otherwise. Sorry, I don't control space and time, USPS.
And I gave someone a bad haircut yesterday. She had baby fine, thin hair with weird internal layers that I didn't see until I got into them, and then it was too late. So, I had to blend and blend and blend and then change the shape of the cut, all while pretending that whatever I did was on purpose. The haircut looks fine, and she didn't say anything, but technical skill-wise, it sucked major ass. I don't do bad hair. I just don't. So fucking up a haircut is so foreign to me that it makes me feel the same way in the pit of my stomach that I feel whenever someone decides to hit my car in such a manner that it will cost money to repair. Or 2x the feeling when I have to terminate the employment of someone that is sweet and nice and someone that I like.
And now that I actually own a bottle of Escada Rockin' Rio, I don't think I like it as much as I did when I was just trying it on at work. At least the D'lish (Clean) Sweet Layer is d'licious.
And most pettily, I constantly get complimented on my eyes and eye makeup, being that I have pretty eyes and I have mad phat eyeshading skillz, but when we voted today at work, I didn't even get a nomination for Best Eyes. I got one nomination for Best Skin (?), but not one for Best Eyes. And the woman that won Best Eyes only got it because her eyeliner was glittery and bright.
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