She might be a bitch, but her hair looks great.
Much like my personal hygiene and liver health, my poor little blog has been neglected in the past few days. I have been at a conference for work in San Francisco, which I essentially treat as vacation. In the true spirit of getting vacation-level crazy, I returned to my hotel last night with a sprained ankle and a message that my wallet was found in the middle of the street. Lovely.
In other news, I have not encountered do-you-want-to-be-my-girlfriend man again. Clearly, I’m devastated. I have, however, run into my San Fran crush (aka the one I am going to hook up with by the end of the week whether he likes it or not).
Last night, I was determined to take our relationship to the next level. And by that, I mean make sure he knows that I exist and possibly jump him in the middle of our awards gala. That’s work appropriate, right?
Anyway, we talked and laughed for most of the night. As we left to go to a different bar, I mentally prepared my next moves. I must have been concentrating very hard on the smoothest way to grab his face, because I ended up tripping to my death in the middle of the road.
Okay, I’m not dead, but my ankle is sprained. And it’s huge. HUGE. Not sexy, only huge. How on earth am I supposed to get laid when it’s cankle city down there? Obviously, fate did not get the memo that I have been coveting this guy for ages and need to have sex with him ASAP. Fucking hell.
The bright side to spraining my ankle, however, is that San Fran crush volunteered to leave the group, not go to the next bar, and take me back to the hotel. What a gentleman! He even paid for the cab and walked me all the way to my room.
That is the point at which I should have wrapped my swollen ankles around him and gone at it. The boy of my dreams fucking rescued me like a damsel in distress and there I was not jumping his bones.
My hopes are a little less for the hookup now that my right foot has its own zipcode. Maybe he’ll be down for some sympathy sex? I do have the pathetic “feel sorry for me and take me to your bed now” face down pretty well. And if this doesn’t scream “sleep with me,” I don’t know what does:
In an effort to woo San Fran crush into submission this evening, I am going to draw his attention away from my slight limp by making my hair look great. Good plan, right? I had my “assistant” take some photos of my hair process before we went out a few nights ago. Now, should you acquire unattractive injuries and need to distract from them, you too can make beautiful soft curls.
Apply a small amount of pomade to hair (helps the curls stay). Part hair into 2 sections horizontally, pinning the top section up like so:
Divide the bottom section into halves and curl each section away from your face using a ¾” barrel.
Once you complete the bottom section, sweep curled hair to the side and repeat with the top. until hair is completely curled. You may look like Shirley Temple at this point.
Brush the curls out. Brushing makes them soft and sexy.
The pomade will make them stay through the brushing and allow you to have a stress-free hair day. After all, there are more important things to worry about. Like how you’re going to walk down the stairs in front of your company’s VP.
Happy manhunting, everyone. Wish me luck in my quest.