This post is held together losely by hygiene

Today I finally worked up the nerve to tell the girl from 2 offices over that her hygiene practices were not okay.  I realize this is a touchy subject and I would have been happy to leave the issue unspoken, however my throat was getting scratchy from the vom each time I witnessed this. 
You see, this girl and I cross paths in the bathroom on a daily basis, sometimes multiple times a day.  And the small two stall bathroom affords us the misfortune of knowing exactly who is in the bathroom and whether or not washing of hands occurs.  Typically, I could really care less if you don't want to wash your hands after you go to the bathroom.  I will pass silent judgment on you, but it is your prerogative.  Except in this instance where to exit the bathroom I must pull the door handle.  Not to mention we just paid a small fortune to install hand dryers to help with our green initiative, so we are all trying to not use the paper hand towels.  But after seeing this girl use the restroom, check her hair in the mirror and exit the bathroom by grasping the door handle with her unwashed hands over and over, I have had to resort to using at least one towel to pull the door open and exit.  And then I have a trash can full of towels in my office at the end of the day. 
I am really grossed out by this. 
And then she totally crapped on my hygienic high ground today. 
I walked into the bathroom after lunch and she was washing her hands.  I even saw her use soap.
As I shut the stall door, I was suddenly overcome with relief that I didn't have to be that asshole who publicly brings up the fact that she is plain gross.
And then, after washing her hands, she dried them in the air dryer.  And then?  She entered the other stall, relieved herself, left the stall, checked her hair in the mirror and walked out.
The F?
Who washes their hands before going to the bathroom only to not wash them after? 
I was so incredibly shocked by this I lost all nerve to say anything.  And I continued vom fest 2010.  Except, not the vom fest that causes weight loss, which is also annoying.
Anywho. 
I apologize for sharing that nightmare, but really? This is backwards, no?

In other news, I have a hair appointment Saturday for the first time in 5 months.  My hair is a rats nest of stringiness.
I figure since I turn 30 in 9 months, and I have a professional job (although I no longer have to wear suits, thank God) I should start looking like I give a crap with my appearance. 
Here is where I need help. 
I have a lot of fine hair.  And is hangs straight.  Occasionally, my hair bends one way or another, but basically doesn't curl.  Except for when I spray it within an inch of the ozone.  And I don't want to single handedly speed up global warming. 
Here is a picture of me from my wedding rehearsal so you can see my face shape.  It is blurry because I cut and paint in MS Paint. Old School Baby.

Also, you should probably know I have like 20% control over my hair.  My stylist has done my hair since 7th grade and I trust her implicitly.  And she knows this, so if she is not on board, it isn't happening.  Case in point: last April I asked for bangs.  I had no bangs when I left.

Are you a cat?

So last night I unknowingly participated in the dentist-given-hallucinatory drugs. 

Let me back up...

I spent all weekend in and out of consciousness on the couch. The third time I fell asleep mid-sentence was apparently B's first clue that these weren't just naps.  I love a good nap, but rarely ever *need* a nap.  I needed 5 over Saturday and Sunday apparently.

Monday at work, I started to feel my day go straight into slow motion.  Complete with voices lowering a few octaves.  I remember working until about 7, heading home, and then? Nothing.

Tuesday I call B from work and tell him I just want to catch up because we didn't get to talk last night.  He corrects me.  Apparently we *talked* for quite a while, and I continued to *talk* all night.  According to B, I witnessed a helicopter crash, the dog needed to go to the vet, and something about the car selling cupcakes.  I must be busy in my alternate universe.  I blame it on the potentially fatal flu I am convinced I am coming down with.

Last night, still feeling flu-ish, and also having just welcomed in my monthly *original sin*, (B's term, not mine), I crawl into bed and turn on the DVRed Raising Hope.  B missed the premier last week, but finds the show hilarious, which I think causes him to forget to confiscate the remote when the show ends.  He gets up for a second to get water and I see my chance to start Glee.
I ask nicely when he returns if I can watch a few minutes until I fall asleep.  He agrees.  I think at this point he realized my psychotic dreams were sure to be entertaining enough he could suffer through a few minutes of Glee.
Here is where the hallucinating begins again:
Just after Britney finishes singing Britney and Asks Uncle Jesse "Are you a cat?" I hear a faint man giggle. 
I avoid looking at him, because I don't want to spoil the moment.  And I also realize I am probably just hearing things through my medicine induced lethargy.
Then, as I start to fade into dreamworld (sorry Glee, but the meds were STRONG), I hear Finn say to Rachel, "Are you asking me to choose between you and football?" After she responds, I distinctly hear B mumble, "Well that isn't fair.  How could she ask him that?"
Oh Em Gee my husband is involved in Glee.  How strong are these drugs?
When the show ended, I took a chance to find out whether or not this fake version of my husband was a figment of my intoxication or if he was real.

Thanks for letting me watch all of Glee.  That was very nice of you, I know it isn't your favorite show.

I don't mind.  It is actually a good show once you get past the strangeness of guys breaking into song in football pads. 

Oh, well good then.

Clearly there was a chemical spill near my office on Monday that unleashed gallons of dentist happy juice into the air. 

I sure hope it doesn't wear off soon.