Identity Crisis

I've spent the last 30 years of my life believing I am a unique person.  One with a slightly unusual name.  It's not outright odd but definitely far from common.  Both first and last.

So imagine my surprise when a little girl on Facebook turns up with my EXACT SAME NAME.  A 15 year old child with a main image that makes her look only slightly a lot like a whore.  This is one of the many reasons why Facebook is evil.

Do a Google search for me and she's the 3rd listing on the page.  I, of course, had to befriend her.  She is, after all, my cousin.  I know this because our last name stretches out of one solitary family tree.  The geneologists say so.

It's very odd to see updates from me that aren't about me.  "Ghetto Photo Girl commented on Random Person's photo."  No I didn't.  "Ghetto Photo Girl is a fan of Some Weird Group."  No I'm not.

It's fucking crazy.  30 entire years meeting only ONE other person with my same first name.  ONE.  And now, this.  It's not like my name is Jane Smith.  Or Maria Lopez/Gomez/Gonzalez/*insert common Spanish name here.*

Not that this in any way changes who I am.  I just have to make sure that if any potential employers are cyber stalking me, they recognize that the little girl with the straight hair and booty shorts isn't me.  I'm the one with the curly hair.

Duh.

In the Cut

There is a reason that doctors do not operate on themselves.  As our dear friend Dr. Freshblade will tell you: Anaesthesia is the half asleep watching the half awake being half murdered by the half witted.

If that doesn't scare the bejesus out of you, I don't know what will.
 
All this to say that I shouldn't have attempted hair surgery on myself last night.  Because now I left certain parts too short and will have to wait for them to grow back out and/or fuse with nearby curls.
 
Luckily they are long enough still to tie back in a ponytail, where all manner of sins and mistakes can hide.
 
I've told you before, but it bears repeating: my life is hard.

Danger on the Horizon

If you've been reading this blog for any length of time you have learned two things:

1. I have curly hair, and

2. I'm an absolutely unapologetic and thoroughly spoiled brat when it comes to my birthday (the KM and Princess will tell you stories).

Given that, the planning for said curly-haired birthday celebrations starts as early in the year as possible. Because the date of my birth was monumentous and must be observed with all the reverence such an event commands.

That, and I really just love parties. Especially in my honor.

Everyone knows this. The girls keep the countdown starting about a month out.

May 10th. It's a blessed day.

But in 2007, for the first time in 29 years, we might run into some trouble. Because of the newly employed torture device known as the minimum 50-hour/7-day work week, there may not be enough hours in the day, much less a month, to do this event justice.

You might question why I worry about these things when the date is over 4 months away. Well, a glimpse into the first two weeks of May might give you some insight.

In my personal life, we will be celebrating my mother's birthday, my nephew's birthday, my cousin's birthday AND Mother's day in the first 14 days. Also in that time span, I will be hosting a large-scale function for the local tax lawyers, responsible for a weekend conference in San Diego, a ceremony honoring a federal judge's lifetime achievement, and quite possibly working a program at the Biltmore Hotel on the very holiest of nights: my actual birthday.

Attendance for all these programs number in the hundreds.

The latter half of May will be spent sweating over more award functions and dinners for the state Supreme Court. If and when I finally get a break, will I even have the energy to celebrate?

This is a gianormous dilemma. Where is my clone when I need her?

Photoblogging Friday 1.26.07

Today's post is once again a product of my overwhelming vanity. Also, I don't think I took either picture. So it's kind of a guest blogging Friday, too! (By phantom photographers because I don't know who took the pics.)

My hair is in that in-between stage that just sucks. It's been 9 months since I did this, and it isn't anywhere near where I'd thought we'd be now. Which should be halfway down my back, instead of merely an inch past my shoulders.

I'm so annoyed and I don't know what to do. I can either chop it all off again and get the cute bob back, OR suffer through another god knows how many more months to get back to the mermaid hair.

The problem: I really like both.

I leave it up to you, people. which way should I go: shorty 'fro or Rapunzel locks?

Keep in mind that both versions of GPG come with the cutie pie baby brother, so just ignore his presence there.