things at which I have no skill

...alternatively put, "things at which I am completely and utterly incapable of doing and should be supervised at in order to not kill myself and others." (Doesn't the title sound far better?) I thought I'd start off the week optimistically- the power of positive thinking, right?

...thinking positively. In case you hadn't already noticed... I tend to be a catastrophic thinker. AKA, everything that could go wrong, will. This isn't usually the case, but it doesn't stop me from thinking such things as "OMG I can't go walking in the woods alone! I'll be eaten by coyotes!"

...straightening my hair. (However, to be entirely fair, I've had my straightener for four years and during none of those has it worked well.) Instead of straightening, my hair tends to stick out horizontally from my head.

...taking selfies. I wanted to show off my adorable new owl shirt...

(Isn't it darling? omg, sequins and owl, I don't think you could get any better) but instead I look oddly contorted. Oh well. Just look at the glitter.

...making Red Velvet Cake Tea. Yes. That is a thing.

Looks delicious, right? But whenever I make it, it tastes like wood. (Not quite so appetizing.) However, whenever my mother makes it, it is a delicious caramelly concoction... I'm not sure why it's such a struggle for me, but there you go. (They say practice makes perfect, but it never seems to get any better.) 

...skiing. Last time, I cried. And fell over. Multiple times. I'd like to say that this was a long time ago... but unfortunately that is not the case. (I haven't even grown... actually I probably weigh more, but that's hardly comforting. Maybe the extra ballast will help me stay upright?)

And yet, that's what I'm going to be doing all day tomorrow with Kori and Cécile. (And that's how this entire post came about!) I may be insane... and if you don't hear back from me, know that I am also deceased.

On that cheerful note, happy Monday! What do you have no skill at doing?

love it or hate it: luscious locks

Today's PDA prompt: HAIR. (Or, to sound prettier: luscious locks!) My first reaction:...ughhh. I have to say, my hair is a bit of a bête noire for me. I have unfortunately never been one of those girls with perfect hair. I probably never will be. My hair will look gorgeous for a few minutes, then will resume its natural fluffy, semi-wavy state. (Why is it not shiny and smooth and gorgeous? Or curly and full-bodied? WHY? Just let me have a quick break while I crumple sobbing on the floor.)

Because of this, I try to do super easy up-dos...aka ponytails... most of the time. (Hopefully I make a cute pony!) Right now I'm addicted to chopstick buns! Easy to do and you're assured that there'll always be supplies on hand.

This is the video that I used:

I usually put in 2 chopsticks, just because I find it looks more symmetrical and prettier! Plus, it stays in super well. (I even wore it for jogging!) I also love sock buns. My hair looks so nice and full! (And again, it stays in all day with very little help.) Here's a picture of the look:

(This doesn't really do it justice...  It's actually bigger than that, haha!) It's perfect for people like me with long, fine hair. Does anyone else have this problem? What are your hair secrets?

Oh, and finally: a picture of me with my gorgeous blue hair!

I posted about this here. I loved it while it lasted... and now it's entirely gone. It was just so BRIGHT! I find dyed hair is a conversation piece, which is really fun. I also had purple streaks for a while, and I'm thinking of getting some pink. Have you ever dyed your hair crazy colours?

This is also my entry for Jenny Matlock's Alpha-Thursday linkup! You can go visit all sorts of other lovely L posts here.

wishing for watermelon

Ok, not really. It just seemed like a good title... for my fancy makeup look today! I know I'm not a beauty blogger, but I just liked what I did today and wanted to show it off to the world! (Sorry for the bad quality of the photos...) My hair, unfortunately, is less exciting... why am I so challenged at making messy buns?

Never wear pink to a fashion show...

...or you might be mistaken for a Barbie. Lace gloves and curly hair? Also a bad idea. L'ordre du jour last night was black sheaths and stick-straight locks, with a blasé expression the cherry on top. In my bright pink tulle, I stuck out like a ballerina in a crowd of Goths. (Very stylish Goths. Only one person had black lipstick.)

Thankfully, the clothing on display was gorgeous enough to be an amazing distraction... It was actually too good. I was so distracted that I didn't notice the imminent approach of the Hairstylist Of Doom. (Capitals definitely necessary.) Before I could emerge from my fashion-induced haze, she had pushed me into her chair and was filling my hair with enough spray to gag an elephant. I think I passed out. (Another reason why I need to start carrying around a gas mask. The primary one is that it would scare people away, so I wouldn't have to worry about this in the first place.)

When I woke up, the first thing I noticed was the scent of burnt hair. I was surrounded by showgoers who had lost their disinterestedness. Instead, they were all staring at my head while wearing the pinched expressions of people trying not to breathe. As I looked up, not one of them met my gaze; they all just backed away with fear in their eyes, like you would if you'd seen a rabid chipmunk. (There are a surprising number around here.)

I still haven't dared to look at myself.

For the rest of the night, whenever I walked near them, people began sniffing with a bemused expression. One woman, sneer firmly affixed, asked me what the name of my perfume was. I told her it was Cheveux Brûlés- she replied, "Oh, French- I should have known." and walked away. (Was that a slur? Probably. And we're supposed to be a bilingual country. I hope she tripped and fell off her penguin platforms. And yes, I do mean penguins. Her shoes were made out of about fifty tiny penguin figurines- so why was she laughing at me?)

And that's another thing. I could easily have been confused with a midget. There should be some kind of law against 5ft10 models wearing 6-inch heels. It makes us poor petites look like we belong to a race of dwarfs. (Now that I come to think of it... maybe that's why the hairstylist chose me. She just wanted to make me seem taller. Since I can still feel my hair standing straight up, I suppose she succeeded.)