One great thing about being out of school is that we get to catch up on movie night and eat pizza (instead of studying like crazy or collapsing like zombies like we've done for the past month). Last night we watched Dreamgirls and then regrettably, The Reaping. I don't really recommend watching completely different genres in the same night.
Especially when you've been eating cheese.
I had a cheese dream about Eddie Murphy with pin curls being attacked by giant grasshoppers. Weird.
If I don't have anything to do with my hands while watching TV (like quilting or beading), I fidget. I pick at my cuticles. I twirl my hair. I rub my chin and try to pull out one of the two chin hairs I have growing on the left side with my fingernails if either one have had the audacity to grow back since the previous movie night.
Did I get it?
Nope. Still there.
And so on.
Yeah, this is what passes for entertainment at the Attila house!
So last night I picked and twirled and then finally rubbed my chin.
It felt like I had a little piece of velcro stuck there!
I went in the bathroom and looked, which is a highly difficult maneuver requiring two mirrors (the spot is just UNDER my chin).
There were 5--count them 5--(ok it was more like 7 but this is my story and I'm sticking to 5 because it will fit in my song) little whiskers in a little patch sprouting out of my chin.
What the hell?
Did the two chin hairs I thought I had sprout double or triple hairs when I pulled 'em out? Or did I really have 7--er--I mean 5 all the time and I just thought it was the same two because I was yanking one out every week?
At this rate, I think I'm going to look like Kim Ayres in no time!
On the fifth day of humbug, Santa left for me...
5 chin hairs,
4 exploding Snapples,
3 open tubs of frosting,
2 dead pens,
and a lump of coal for under my tree.