New hair this weekend!
Friday evening my magical hair artist whipped and painted and created the most perfect hair she's conjured, yet. Stormy gray and blues brewing and lapping over my skull. She went down to a two on the buzzed sides. The shorter sides make me feel like a warrior. It feels fierce and coupled with the color, I might be able to conquer the world. It suits me. I think this one will stay for quite some time! Perhaps forever.
A dear friend came back to our office bearing King Cake from Louisiana. I had never tried it, but I knew of the baby so I insisted that she hide it for us. The cake tastes like a cinnamon roll, but this one has an over the top cream cheese filling that luxuriously spills out when you cut a slice. It also has the jewel colored sugar sprinkled on the top that crunches delightfully in your teeth. Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about because if you've ever eaten a Christmas Tree Cake (by Chef Little Debbie), you've caught the bug. I do it as a toast to my teeth cleaning friends at the dentist so they can continue to live in style, I insist. I will happily crunch the sugar bits against my molars until I have clickety clackety porcelain ones that I soak in a cup every night. It will be worth it, I surmise. We then read up on the history of the baby, and I was delighted to find that a baker once bought a surplus of porcelain babies that a traveling salesman was selling to put in the King Cake in place of the bean that was usually used. It became very popular, and when he used all the porcelain infants up, he went with the cheaper plastic ones. I'm not from Louisiana so I'm not sure as to how true this is, but so says the Internet (there is a lot of fighting about whether the baby in the King Cake represents baby Jesus). If you know of another tale, do tell. I like this traveling salesman story though so I'll keep that one if you don't mind?
Yesterday my perfume samples came in, and I first tried Salome. The first smell was awful to me. It burned my nose, and it reminded me of Grandmothers at church. It is strong, and it bowls you over. After a while, I smelled my wrist again, and I enjoyed it. It is still bold, but it's a nice vintage smell. It's definitely not a daily wear perfume, though. It's for a night out at the opera. It's for the ballet. Use sparingly, or you'll give yourself a headache. Trust me, I know. Of course I would have exquisite tastes, and I adored the sample of Note Vanillee that I tried this morning. After testing it, I went online to see how much a full size bottle would cost, and it's a cool 235 bucks. Around 10:30 a.m., I took a whiff of my wrist, and it had faded. I couldn't detect it at all, and for almost 300 bucks, you'd hope it'd last longer. The Salome is so pungent it would probably last for four days. I haven't tried Confetto yet, but I'll report back when I do. Rumor is that it smells like a better version of Dior's Hypnotic Poison which is my signature scent.
At work, our office has been infiltrated by a gnat army. We have been searching high and low for what's drawing them in, but fortunately, our Facilities department brought vinegar traps. Then a curious student overturned one near my desk, and it smelled of vinegar all day. He has scented the hallways, and a friend questions, "Why does it smell like cat piss everywhere in here?"
At lunch, in the food court, I see a man who looks exactly like Charles Manson waiting at a table. I can't stop staring. I wonder if anyone has ever told him that? I'm certainly not going to be the one to break it to him, but I can't help but feel both sorry for him and also repulsed even though he's done nothing wrong.