Jacqui (jacqui) wrote,

All Our Computers Crashed, Going Blonder, and a Hair Cut I Hate, Guys, Eyes and Cocks, and Beau and

Oh man you guys, I have had the worst couple of days. Beau's computer crashed because he picked up a virus from either one of the many cheat code sites he visits, or maybe from something he downloaded -- a movie, a music file, something naughty -- who knows. He doesn't trust our computer guy, Ron, so he insisted I pack up and send his computer all the way to his friend Phil's house near Sacramento and wanting to put an end to his panic and distress over his computer's crashing, I agreed. Then, because all of our other computers are on a network -- we use wireless DSL -- one by one, all of the rest of them crashed. Can you imagine? It was such a nightmare.

To top it all off, I had needed to get my hair colored, the roots were growing out and looking super funky, but my hair stylist who has been cutting and coloring my hair, has gone to Trinidad for two weeks. There was no way I wanted to wait two weeks with my hair looking like this, (and I really need to get new headshots if I'm going to take advantage of this opportunity to sign with a new agent I have a referral to, and get out there and get work and make money doing what I do best), so I decided to go back to this overpriced small salon in Brentwood where I know and like the stylists.

I told my friend/stylist that I wanted to be a little bit blonder, and he went for it, but the base color is too light and it came out looking kind of scary lemon-yellowy to me, and even though I pointed this out to them they just dismissed my worries saying, "Oh no, it's just the light in here, it looks great. Wait 'till you see how many compliments you are going to get." I just don't know if I can trust these guys, even though they charge just as much as any of the many celeb-magnet salons in Beverly Hills, I don't know if they have the same level of taste or experience. I mean they are the sweetest people in the world, I would have them over for dinner any night of the week, or give them the keys to my car, but I don't know if we have the same taste when it comes to hair and style.

Of course I'm saying this now, after my hair has been dyed a kind of lemony yellow, and I got a surprising, short, shaggy end cut. Remember the scary, hair cut dream I had a week or so ago -- the one where I had these shaggy Mrs. Brady ends? Yep, that's what happened. But I'm so damned sensitive, and don't ever want to hurt anyone's feelings, and once it's done it's done, it's not like they can glue the hair back in, so what am I gonna do?

After getting the way too yellowy hair, and it was time for the cut, the stylists switched places because the colorist was tired, and I just went along with it. Then the new stylist said, "So what do you want to do?" and I said, "Nothing really, I like it the way it is, I just want a trim." I explained what I like and don't like and she did the usual, "Oh but your hair is so damaged you really need to cut it," dance, so I said, "Okay I'll trust you", and then I just kind of let her do it, but I didn't realize how much she was cutting off  because she started in the back and then when she lifted up a section on the side and hacked off about three or four inches, of my already too short hair, I thought I was going to faint.  So now I'm left with this choppy, short, barely shoulder length, layered style, when what I've been going for is long, sultry, and sexy. I think I just may give up on this and try to find some way to pay for extensions. Oh and to top everything off, the credit card I was planning on using to pay for the whopping three-hundred-and-fifty dollar cut and color (which is actually medium - low for this kind of thing), didn't work because I grabbed the wrong one, and while I was sitting there feeling helpless, ugly, and shocked but pressured to act happy and pleased because I'm just that co-dependant, my evil, (no seriously it's really evil, please don't make the same mistake I made and think that it'll make things easier and more convenient if you combine your PDA and cell phone, I got the Palm-600-Whatever and I absolutely hate it), cell phone rang and Beau was calling to let me know that the one remaining working computer had just crashed.

Now, after much distress, time, and expense, I'm back on, using my laptop, but I have so much recovery, sorting, and reinstallation of programs to do, just to get it all back to where it was. Of course there's absolutely no guarantee that the whole system won't come crashing down again tomorrow. Argh. See, these are the kind of things that make computers seem like, for everything they have to offer, they actually cost us more in terms of stress and the loss of time involved in dealing with glitches and weird unexplainable problems. I'm still not completely sure that all of the computer problems are due to a virus. I have to ask Ron, but, grrrr, he came by, dropped off the laptop, didn't bother to come talk to me, didn't take the office computer with him, and then split without saying goodbye. So here I was sitting in my room, worrying that any minute he would come knocking at the door and catch me with my dress flipped up over my head or going to the bathroom or doing some other embarrassing human thing.

You never realize how much of a computer addict/slave you are until your computers are all taken away from you for a couple of days. It's so distressing -- kind of like how disabled and childlike/dependent you feel when there's a power outage -- These are the moments when I feel like becoming a Luddite -- moving to some cabin in the mountains and trying to learn how to survive without electricity or modern conveniences.

Oh man, I was going to write about how other than my computers, my new hair cut and color, and my worry over my weight, that things are going really well right now with Beau, my Mom, and especially Scott. Then just as I was thinking this, I heard a whole bunch of banging, yelling, and slamming of doors downstairs. I paged Beau over our intercom system to ask him what was going on; turns out his friend Steven had just arrived -- our security gate that opens electronically with a code that we punch in on any of our phones, is suddenly not working, (I'm just praying it's the rain, because with the recent computer costs, the enormous, ever-present vet bills, and one holiday and birthday after another, I am feeling really cash poor and stressed about it), Beau, who thought it was working, picked up the phone, pressed the code, and then hung up. Steven was left standing in the rain and had to ring the intercom again. This time Beau went outside and instead of opening the gate for him with a key, made Steven jump over the gate. After getting his butt all wet jumping the gate, Beau threw a grapefruit at him. Then Steven got really pissed at Beau and threw his back pack at him. Lovely. And all of this after both boys promised to be super cool and behave well. I mean, I know it's no big deal, kids like to get wild and act out, it's just that Steven is already in so much trouble at home, at school, and even with the cops, so I'm super on edge about having him over. Beau knows this and promised they would be good, so to have it escalate into grapefruit tossing and door slamming within seconds of Steven's arriving just isn't a good sign. Poor Steven, poor Beau, poor kids. Being a kid sucks and sometimes so does being a parent.

Things have been really good with Scott, well, as good as they can be when you've been together for a dozen years but can't seem to figure out how to live together. We're even talking about getting promise rings and I am loving him like crazy and wanting him but there was a show on CNN, or maybe it was MSNBC, tonight about men who had ruined their relationships by being selfish and cheating, and it upset me. What I mean by the being selfish comment, is that none of these men even bothered to talk about these feelings that were coming up for them, with their partners, none of them gave their women a chance to work through any of this with them, they just wanted it and went for it. One of these guys had a one month old baby -- asshole. Oh no wait, I'm wrong, there was one honorable guy, he was the one who got cheated on, and of course the host said he had thought he was a wimp because he had told his wife when feelings of attraction for other women would come up.

You know I'm in favor of openness and honesty, I really am, I certainly prefer it to the alternative, but at the same time I don't want to have to help my partner process every little God damned sexual feeling he has, because eventually it begins to wear you down, you know what I mean? When Scott and I first got together I think one of the things he liked about me, and one of the things that all of the men on this show said they liked being able to do with the women they were having affairs with, was being able to say whatever he felt about other women, he liked feeling free to constantly share his running sexual stream of consciousness whenever we were out, or watching television, or a movie. But after years of having to listen to every little sexual impulse he had whenever we were out together, I finally arrived at a place where I couldn't handle it anymore and asked him to stop.

Now I don't know if I've hurt our relationship by doing this and have forced him to feel like he has had to go underground with his raging testosterone. I want him to feel free to confide in me, I want him to be able to talk to me about anything, and not to feel like he has to be one person with me and another with "the guys". I hate the whole secret men's club thing and would rather be the person he unburdens himself to, but the thing about this kind of behavior that isn't fair is that it just isn't equal, at least not between us. With me he doesn't have to listen to an endless daily stream of, "Oooooh he's hot, look at the ass on him, oh yeah let's take him home honey." He doesn't have to feel less than and wonder why he isn't enough for me because I'm not wired in the same eyes to cock kind of way that most men are. I don't look, and want, look, and want, all the damned day. I might feel, then look, and want, or in a particularly testosterone saturated moment, look, feel, and then want, but that doesn't really happen too often, because I'm so loyal and faithful.

It's scary when you watch a show where all of the guys are saying that all men would cheat if they could get away with it, when your own not-so-secret fear is that no man is capable of being faithful and that they all lead these secret, fantasy, I-Pretty-Much-Want-To-Fuck-Anything-That-Moves, lives. It's scary when you were married to someone who cheated and cheated and then cheated some more, all the while telling you that you were out of your mind, paranoid, clingy, and suspicious, and that your suspicious nature might actually make him do the things you were afraid he was already doing. I want to be this modern, polyamorous, live and let live, kind of gal, but I want my cake and I want to eat it to, and my cake is this great big romantic prince of a fantasy where my lover wants me and only me, or if he does want other people, because he is a great, big, hot, manly man after all, these would just be passing blips on the radar of his all consuming passion for me, and nothing that he would ever have the bad manners to feel that he needed to burden me with, unless it were something more serious, something that would threaten to topple our relationship, in which case I would want him to tell me the truth. Complicated aint it?

Ooooh my beloved Osbournes is on and I want to go watch it. It's the Osbournes in Hawaii episode that I missed. Ahhh heaven, the Osbournes in Hawaii. Knowing me, and knowing how much I love the Osbournes, and Hawaii, can you imagine a television show I might enjoy more? Maybe if they were putting on a play and adopting all the cats out of the local shelter? I'm kind of surprised they'd stay at such a commercial, super-crowded, popular hotel. We've been there tons of times and it doesn't even have a nice big sandy beach. You'd think with their high profiles they'd want to rent an estate or stay at one of the hotels that have private bungalows. Did you see the episode where Kelly went to rehab where Sharon told off the mother of one of Kelly's friends? Oooh God I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of her anger, ever. Poor Kelly, poor Sharon, poor Ozzy, poor Jack, poor you, poor me, poor everybody, again.

Anyone know whatever happened to the boy they adopted, Kelly and Jack's friend Rob?

Tomorrow I'm going to meet the Art Deco Society fashion show organizers over at my Mom's house. I have to go buy some racks to hang up the hundreds of dresses I've collected and I'm just praying Rosa hasn't stolen any of them.

Okay, I'm off, love you guys,

PS: Oh God am I happy to have my computer back again. Thank you Universe, thank you Ron, thank you, thank you, thank you, woohoo!!!!

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