Take it as a sign....

Listening to:

So here I sit this not so fine evening after a day of labor and preparation (not H ;-P ). I'm not gonna lie folks, I spent my entire afternoon in my PJS cleaning and rearranging furniture. Exciting and extraordinary, huh? Yeah, I thought you'd be impressed. So there I stand slightly sweaty, in my fuzzy pink peace sign pajamas, sans makeup looking REALLY model-esque let me tell you. What's that I hear? Muffled Iron & Wine playing somewhere in the pitfall that I just created? Huh, that's my generic ringtone..oh well, they'll have to leave a message I dunno where that thing is buried. Suddenly it hits me. Wait a second...didn't that casting director say we would hear back no later than Monday? Crap.

So what does a dishevel me do? DIG, DUH! Turns out it was a good thing I dig quickly! I officially have landed my third independent, low budget role. Excited? I think yes. As I am sitting here on the phone thanking my lucky stars that I dig like a hound dog on speed, the casting director is talking about how my job is to be a piece of "living breathing sexiness" how I am to embody "sexual tension", "beautiful hair, intense eyes, curves to die for". He is telling me this I am staring in my what now seems ENTIRELY too large mirror. I stare at my reflection, Frumpy PJs? Check. Ponytail? Check. Sweaty face? Check. Show stopping vixen? Negative Ghost Rider.Ughhhhhhh.

So in a fit of inadequacy I run to the bathroom and grab a package of deep hair conditioner, acid peel, and a razor. Nothing like getting a "sexy" role to make you realize just how UN-sexy you are. As I turn on the shower I wonder if Kim Kardashian ever has days like this...or maybe Beyonce? Eh who am I kidding. Screw those two in their ridiculous perfection.

So I put on the acid peel and hop in the shower. I apply the deep conditioner to my hair and start shaving. A few minutes later, in my extreme haste to feel my instant improvements, I slip in the shower...throwing my face into the water, no big deal you say? Guess who was using acid peel as their new eye drops? Oh yeah. In the pain of this I went to wipe my face forgetting I was holding a razor. I managed to catch my left hand with it, slicing my fingernail all the way up to the nail bed. I screamed in pain and jerked my head down to inspect the blood dripping finger. I did this only to catch my thickly coated hair in the stream of water...coating the floor of the shower in conditioning cream. I reached for a towel to help my finger and slipped on the now coated shower floor ending up unceremoniously on the floor. Needless to say: not.my.night.

Is there a point to me sharing all of this? Not really. Does it make me feel better to complain? Hell yes.

Moral of this story?

1. Sexy? I am not. Clumsy, I am.

2. The universe is trying to tell me to just give up, personally I think it means directly about the shaving thing. Yes? Yes.

3. Next time...let it go to voicemail.

Signing out,

Your Bruised, Bloody, and Beaten Free Spirit :-/