PLEASE! NO MORE WEINER!

What has 100 teeth and eats weiners?  A zipper!

I was going to lead with Anthony Weiner's dick pics but they crashed my computer.  I was pissed and grateful because I'm really not interested in seeing Weiner's junk.  From the looks of him, I can't imagine it would be anything to write home about anyway.

I guess I had Weiner on my mind.  He was the first thing I thought of when I saw the above real estate sign.  I was stoked he found a job fitting a person of his stature.  What a piss poor way to realize I finally balanced my third eye chakra.  I pull up the news and see this:

Ok, maybe that's an exaggeration.  The news that day was all about Weiner.  Is it just me or do the dick jokes never get old?

What in the hell makes Anthony Weiner think he can be elected mayor of NYC?  He dropped 100K on "polling" (prostitutes) which will result in more dick pics.  He even got his wife on board.  She gave an interview to ABC news about her husband's comeback.  To me it's not even about trolling the Internet for women.  It's more about being such an inept fuck up that you can't work Twitter.  It doesn't include the word twit for nothing.  If thousands of middle school kids can be proficient with Twitter, shouldn't our elected officials at least manage to send their dick pics privately rather than disseminating them to all of their twitter followers?  People of New York, is this the kind of man you want as your new mayor?  I'm pretty sure he can't think outside the box...

COLORIOUS

I'm pretty low maintenance.  I have to be.  My husband is a mega diva.  I pride myself on being easy going.  When I have my hair cut or colored, I am always willing to go with something different because it will grow out or fade.  Part of being low maintenance might be because I'm lazy.  Part of it might be because I work in a gym and can cover up any mistakes with a hat.  Whatever the reason, I have been very lucky with at-home color.  I figure, red is an easy color so I can't really do much to fuck it up.  Enter The Yankee...

Since she doesn't want her name posted, we will just call my "friend" The Yankee (which she is).  My usual DIY color was out of stock.  Instead of going elsewhere to look for it, The Yankee chooses one she thinks will be lovely.  It's bright red but pretty on the model.  I've only had good experiences with DIY color so it's worth a shot, right?

but it's pretty on the model

WRONG!  I have a few immediate red flags.  This color takes 25 minutes to process.  Really?  Not only that, it has a bunch of different steps.  Instead of just adding the color, you have some kind of shimmer serum and a color booster.  At the time, I didn't know that this color needs no boost.  Why do I have to add a booster?  Why isn't it just part of the color?  Anyway, I'm not one to let the directions stand in my way.  When they get overlong, I usually just kind of wing it.  How hard can it be?  Most cosmotologists I know are not rocket scientists.  I mix up the color, apply it, then sit and wait...

As I'm waiting, I happen to take a closer look at the empty color bottle.  It looks like an abortion:

This is going to be awesome!

This is where I start to get a bit worried.  THEN I take a look at the color on my hair.  I look like that old SNL skit, massive head wound Harry.  As the color is processing, my husband is wandering in and out of the room with a worried look on his face.  He keeps asking me if it's supposed to be so dark.  I show him the box.  He says that it's darker than the box.  He is a genius.  That's why I keep him around.

Head wound?  Maybe

Head wound Harry

I go through the 25 minutes of processing.  Then I'm supposed to wash it twice with the shampoo provided.  I wash it three times and STILL the water looks like I'm bleeding out!  My husband walks in and asks me if it's supposed to be that red.  At this point, I'm texting The Yankee and delicately telling her that this hair color looks like I'm having fucking brain surgery in my bathroom and what did I ever do to her to cause her to pick such a godawful color.  Since she has no dog in this fight, she tells me to go to hell and refuses to take my calls.  After I use up all the hot water rinsing the abomination out of my hair, I decide to take a deep breath, style my hair and see just how bad it is. 

First things first, I slathered the color on my eyebrows.  It will not come off with toner or any other things that get normal hair color off your skin.  I email The Yankee to find out if there is anything else that will take the hair color off my face.  Nail polish, she says.  I start scrubbing my face with nail polish.  I realize that I

I have lovely feet

haven't taken off my toenail polish since fall.  I've got a bit of an issue with one of my toes.  I get to work on that and reveal this lovely toenail.

Now back to the hair.  As I dry it, I can see that it's very dark and rather purple.  It bled red whenever it got wet for an entire week!  Below is the end result:

I'm on the right.  BTW, The Yankee is second from the left.

Capridon't: A plea to those wearing capri pants

Oh, hell no!

I think history will look back on the capri pant with disbelief.  It started slowly like any quiet revolution.  It picked up devotees as it bumped and bumbled it's way along.  We weren't worried.  It was the late 90's.  We had been through so many ridiculous trends that we just assumed the capri pant would go the way of the stirrup pant.  We didn't know how wrong we were.  Here it is Spring 2013 and capri pant season is in full swing.  Of course,  now we know that it is a disease that should have been summarily executed!  How I long for the day when capris were reserved for the middle aged woman taking the express route to the muumuu. Now it seems that everyone from my neighbor's toddler to the 85 year-old lady across the street has at least three pairs of capri pants.  We can give the toddler a pass but anyone no longer mired in puberty should steer clear of these abominations!

If it seems that we are ignoring the literal elephant in the room, here goes.  It is no coincidence that the rampant spread of capri pants seems to go hand in hand with the rampant spread of the American ass.  Apparently, the fatter we get the less we care.  Why not wear a pant that visually shortens the leg?  Cankles, who cares?  Capri pants have looked good on one person ever, Audrey Hepburn.  If you don't have her body, stick to sweat pants.

Capri pants were invented by Emilio Pucci in the 50s.  They were considered liberating because of the uber restrictive fashion of the time.  What does that have to do with today?  I really don't know.  In this time of pajama pants worn outside of the bedroom, can we really say that capri pants are a comfortable, less restrictive alternative?  I think not.  Capri pants brilliantly exploit a woman's shortcomings.  So why do some people continuously subject themselves (and us) to them?  The simple answer is laziness.  Why go to the gym or spray tan when you can buy a shapeless "pant" to cover up.  Hell, why even shave?  Do those few inches of fresh air on your ankles really make it worth wearing a capri?  They aren't THAT much cooler than a traditional pant but you certainly will be cooler if you skip the capri and go with a pant or shorts.

a guide to disaster