As a lazy girl, now that I have weird hours and days I have off in the middle of the week where I will probably see no-one, I have ....GASP!!!.....lowered my standards.
It used to be that Erica the Fantastica did not leave the house (unless getting flu supplies) without mascara and a decent (at least clean) outfit. And every day I HAD to wash my hair sometimes twice. Even with the flu. I am a fanatic about clean hair.
Oh how the mighty have fallen.
As a side note I should mention that every person with a normal amount of hair and especially my hairdressers tell me- "Erica you are committing a crime by washing your hair every day. You should wash every other day or third day. Your hair needs natural oils to not break" blah blah blah. My hair is shiny enough and strong enough for me. What you people do not understand is that since I have so little hair and a super greasy head I develop pose-able hair by day 2. It literally sits on my hair in dark chunks at the roots. SO NASTY. I am not about to let that happen. Icky poo puppies!
Now you are asking yourself why is she telling us this and how does this have to do with the title of the blog? Well now I'll tell you.
Since I started working night I don't wash my hair sometimes. I know I will spend all my awake hours in my jammies watching DVR anyways. I decided to try to let my hair wallow in it's splendor of organic conditioning once or twice a week. It grosses me out, but no one sees me right?
Au contraire mon frere. Lazy girls totally make quick runs to Walgreens or Walmart for unforeseen needs on their lazy days. I operate on a stealth mission. I wear the most awful and badly fitting clothes I own, sometimes wear a ballcap(yikes) and don't have on any makeup. Or maybe I have leftover makeup from the night before making me have dark circles under my eyes. Basically I am completely incognito. If incognito means fugly.
So ....today I decided I need a supply of reading material for the 1/2 of a part of a holiday I get to be home this week. I primped for the outing by removing my mascara flakes, putting my greasy locks in a ponytail that parts itself, and wearing a ugly thermal shirt for maximum comfort. Then I headed myself over to my home planet, the beacon that calls to me every night as I drive to work. The Half Price Books Warehouse on Northwest Highway. (Laaaaah!!! Angels sing!!)
As every desperate girl knows- if you are completely open to dating anyone of any religion, a likely place to meet your perfect nerd guy is HPB. Hello!!! Not only does he READ!!! He reads so much he wants a discount cause his habit is too expensive otherwise. SCORE!
Since religion matters to me in dating, HPB is not a place I go to troll for men. Is there a place I could troll for Mormon men even if i wanted to?? But I digress, I arrived at HPB looking freaking fantastic and went to pick out my books. I gotta be honest there was some fine fine eye candy at the bookstore tonight. Multiple men in their twenties or early thirties and with that cultured and intelligent look. They had cute glasses so I was glad my ....uhh...disguise prevented them from seeing my true self and falling madly in love with me. Whew! Close getaway!
But lo.....the magical pull of HPB does not draw only cool singles such as myself. As I cruised the aisles I was continually followed by middle aged Navajo in a Bomber Jacket. With his piercing stare and apparently tribal taught hunting skills he kept circling and waiting, circling and waiting. My fugliness only proved to him that I was unattractive enough to settle for a 45yr old. Curses!!
I held my books up high and covered my not-lovely face with this stupid zit that wants to make my whole chin red which was of course not covered by makeup. I ducked and ran for the mystery section. Where I encountered Really Sad Guy There With His Mom. As his mommy picked out hot novels from the romance section he kept standing awkwardly at the end of each of my aisles and looking around me but not at me. Obviously not a reader, how he planned to scam some babes at HPB I had no idea. But apparently he thought being only in hearing distance of mom somehow made him just another cool guy there to get a girl. Picking up random books and putting them down without reading the backs, stomping around loudly, sneaking to romance to talk to mom and answer her shouted questions and then coming right back to hover again. But getting closer each time and trying to brush up against me. Ewwwww! He had no game. I sneaked over to the cooking section to look for Giada's book. Oh crap!!! Incoming Indian!!! Dive Dive!!!
I literally went to the Arts and Crafts and Travel book section on the opposite side of the warehouse to escape and then tried to make my way back to fiction by way of Collectors Edition books, but apparently I was acting a little too sneaky. I noticed that the Policeman I had seen in the parking lot was now discreetly following me around the store. Seriously!!! Although I did have on a big jacket to hide my thermal shirt greatness. But my books were on my arm in the open!! So I think to myself.....hmmmm...if I am being followed by a cop let's see what happens to the men. I boldly head back to fiction and take my stand.
Suddenly Momma's Boy heads into romance and is fascinated by the titles(creepy!! but I am thankful he's gone) and I see the Big Chief head over to foreign language and make fast tracks to the back of the store. Safe now, I perused to my little heart's content. And run into a tall cutie with curling brown locks and adorable glasses who recoils in fear when he looks up from reading his back cover and sees my gremlin-ey self shuffling along with my greasy locks and books and parka and policeman.
The moral of the story. Erica needs to dress up to go to Half Price. If I get all clean-like: the cuties will at least acknowledge me, the lowlifes will not think they have a chance, and the police will not have a reason to be suspicious of my excessive layering of clothing. The End.
