I have auburn hair and very pale skin. As a ginger kid, I should have avoided the sun like the plague, but I didn’t. Parents weren’t aware of the dangers back then. There was no sunscreen or hats or shade on those sunny days. As I got older and the public became aware of the damaging effects of the sun, and I saw some folks with faces that actually looked like leather, I started avoiding those UV rays completely. But alas, I was too late, some damage done. When I can afford it I get microdermabrasion treatments at my doctor’s office. These are great. They make your skin so soft and make you feel like you have rich girl skin. They aren’t as painful as a chemical peel. Can you say "Holy shit there’s battery acid on my face"? I did. I also threatened the doctor with bodily harm if he didn’t remove it right then and there.

This isn’t a blog about my vanity. Those that know me know I am vain. It’s how I roll. This is about my birthday.

Yesterday was my birthday. I took a day off work as I always do. A little gift to myself. J came over to take me out to dinner. When he came in I looked for festive colored packages, also known as presents. I saw none. Then while we were driving away he told me what he got me. He said he didn’t know the name of the place I go for my beauty treatments, but that he wanted to buy me a package of services. Wow I thought, way cool- that’s like six months of treatments. Then immediately he said " not that I think you need it".  I looked at him and said "I know, and wow, thanks that’s great!" He then said he knew I loved getting that ‘stuff’ done and thought I would like that, again saying "not that I think you need it". Now, if I was sensitive that’s exactly what I would have thought he meant. That I needed it. Then he repeated it again. Hmmm. Great, now I need to go buy a black veil to cover my horrible hag leather face until my treatments are complete.

Oh, and I got this! Yes, I get to make a month worth of meals and someone else gets to clean up! No more peanut butter sandwiches during the week because I only cook on weekends. Cool, huh?

I would like to quote my friend Duane now. "Even whores in Asia don’t get the gifts from the GIs like you do."

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I missed the official tour of the loonie bin I had previously written about. You know, The old South Carolina Mental Hospital that they are going to demolish for condos. It was last Saturday and rainy so I thought I’d catch the next. After a friend called about another tour, and reported back that there would be none, I was devastated. Damn. I soon gathered a group to go at lunch since it’s not that far. Most of the group backed out. They were being pussies too busy. So three of us drove down to take a look around and get some pictures. Then I noticed a gate that when I shoved it real hard leaned on it a tad we could barely squeeze through easily enter. The place was creepy and beautiful at the same time. Two of us went inside and looked around the main building. The third stood guard rested outside. I got some good pics and then the cell phone rang. Cops! The two of us scurried out and barely made it out of the gate when the cruiser appeared. We immediately slowed our pace and started strolling, looking around pointing at the huge oak trees, acting all touristy. I almost started whistling. The cop pulled up and got out. Busted. He told us we were trespassing and that no photos were to be taken. I looked at him wide eyed and innocent and said " Oh my, I didn’t know that." Yes, I pulled a Paris Hilton. I was hoping it would work better for me. It did. He told us who we needed to call to get permission to be there. I thanked him profusely (cause I’m way too pretty for prison) and shook his hand when he said he wouldn’t confiscate my camera. I swear to God, I would have given him a BJ right then and there not to take my camera. But I didn’t have to. Good thing, because I had left my lip gloss at work.

Here’s a few pictures I took. There’s some in my Flickr too.

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Some goofballs started a petition to the governor of California, Arnold Schwarzenegger, to have Paris Hilton pardoned from serving time for violating probation and driving on a suspended license. They state that she’s a fashion icon and needs to be free. Yeah, I can’t stop laughing either. Anyway, here’s a petition to sign if you wish for justice to be served. I signed it and all my pets signed it too. They’re pissed because she makes Tinkerbell wear shoes and silly outfits. I’m pissed because I have to work for a living.

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I try really hard not to get sucked into soap operas. Fictional ones and actual ones. That being said, I am completely addicted to the show Heroes. I will ignore everything else around me when this show is on. The ringing phone, dirty dishes in the sink, pets running with scissors, grease fires. I ignore it all. I HAVE to see why saving the cheerleader will save the world.

I have some friends who watch it also and we discuss and dissect it the next day. Almost everyone’s favorite hero is Hiro. Mostly because he’s sweet and innocent and wants to be a hero when most the others just feel burdened with their powers. We also discuss whose super powers we would want, and why. I want Sylar’s powers personally. He’s the evil dude. And yeah, I am pretty certain I would be evil too. Not that I’m a bad person. But I am basically moody and cranky. I would so be power tripping when pissed off. I’m afraid heads would literally roll. 

While pondering what powers I want though, I thought about the powers I have. Besides the power of attracting toothless men in bars, the power of just smelling food and gaining weight, and the power of picking the one line in a grocery store where there’s a trainee that has to stop and flash her light for help, I have the power of making men propose. No, not to me. But to the next girl they date. Seriously, every guy I ever dated since I was 18 years old has married the very next girl they dated. It’s as if they are so happy to be dating someone even semi normal, that they feel “this is it”. I guess this power should make me feel bad, but it doesn’t. I actually wish I could profit from it. Lonely men should pay me to date them so that they could meet their soulmate. Ladies should pay me to date their ”fear of commitment” boyfriends. We’re not talking prostitution here either folks. Men I just went out with casually would marry their next date.

I guess once you’ve been to crazy, everything else is Disneyland.

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