Prince Valiant Is Sweating the Small Stuff

Yesterday, the big stuff went right. I woke up in my cute apartment, next to my cute boyfriend. I went to my job to work among nice people, had dinner and a beer with an old friend, and went home to sleep in a warm bed. I lead a charmed and lucky life.

The little stuff? All wrong. End-to-end disaster. I got to work, settled in, and promptly splashed coffee onto my skirt. Since the skirt looks the same front-or-back, and I sit at a desk all day, I simply went into the restroom and turned the skirt around. If I'm sitting on the stain, no one can see it.

I sat back down, and poured another batch of coffee onto my skirt. Oh well, at least I match.

After work, and before dinner, I went to get my hair cut. I'm trying to switch from a shag to a bob with bangs (for my male readers, that means blah blah blah...snore).

Somehow, in the midst of scissors flurrying about near my eyeballs and having my scalp torn out to a throbbing techno beat, I wound up with ridiculously short bangs. I look like Prince Valiant. I look like a little Dutch boy. I look like my mother cut my hair. I look, most of all, like a dork with an enormous forehead. Make that a fivehead or a sixhead.

It'll be OK, because I'm a human Chia Pet with plenty of other skirts. My hair and nails grow absurdly fast, and my bangs will be back to normal in no time. And hopefully the coffee stains will come out of that skirt. In the meanwhile, I've got the big stuff covered.