I have decided to chop all of my hair off.... again.

I've been letting my hair grow out since last years May in the thought that it would be long enough to "style" for our wedding this coming October. It seemed like a legitimate thought at the time, and to be honest, getting all of your hair chopped off is always risky, because who even knows if the hairdresser is going to f*ck it up or not.

But, as I get older, I enjoy my hair shorter. Actually, I've always switched back and forth on the length of my hair and have ranged from hair to my hips to hair just below my chin. And a couple of years ago, I had my favorite short hairstyle.

D enjoys my hair longer (maybe that's a guy thing?), but has also made the comment, "you're the one who has to deal with it and wear it, so you do whatever your little heart desires." (He knew that I was going to do whatever I want anyways).

I've been debating on this for awhile, but have always waivered, because I can't find the woman who originally gave me my favorite haircut and I was worried somebody else would f*ck up my life. Insert Dani. I was explaining all of this to her last week and she gave me the number to her hair gal. After about an hour of going back and forth, I text the woman and set up an appointment for this Thursday. And I think.... I'm just going to have her chop it all off.

I haven't told anybody about this other than Dani, and I'm just going to surprise D when he gets home on Thursday. Like, surprise honey! I chopped all of my hair off, BUT at least I didn't do it myself in the bathroom.... again! I guess we'll see if this is a good idea or not. *fingers crossed*

The 500. What do I have to say about that?

(My biggest anniversary yet).

I realized this morning that the next post I have, will make 500. Seriously, 500 posts that I've rambled and let lay my sarcasm upon. It's almost weird. Usually I lose interest in things fairly quickly, but writing has never been one of those things. At least, not when I'm writing about the things that I want to be. I think that's why my posts are usually all over the place. They range from my family to movies and everything else in between.

In order to celebrate my "500 posts" I wanted to do a lengthy post consisting of all of my favorites from this time period, and then it hit me. What hit me? The fact that I would have to start in April 2013 and work my way up to June 2016, that's what. I would have to go through over three years of my own rambling, and my inherent laziness overcame me. I know, I'm ridiculous. And I'm good with it.

So, instead of a long ass post consisting of ones that already exist (you can read through them all, if you would like to), I figured I would commemorate it by acknowledging the fact that it's the 500th and share a picture. Because pictures make everything better. Usually. As you can tell, Tayder was extremely focused on being happy for me. He's a real gem that one. Hopefully, I'll have another 500 and many more after that. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some celebrating to do.

Where's my cake?!

Where in the hell was I when all of this happened?!!

(This weekend I had a realization).

January has already come and gone this new year and I'm sitting here like- ?????

To be honest, I don't really keep up with time all too well. My intentions are good, but I just never have the follow through. I feel like I'm not the only person that has this issue though. I feel like most people are either very structured people (i.e. they know everything down to the exact date) or they're kind of willy-nilly with it (i.e. me). It makes life much more interesting. Or at least to me, it does.

For instance, this past weekend Aunt Poot asked Momma and I to go with her to her youngest grand-kids (my cousin) birthday party. We had no problem with going, so come Saturday we went to her house and all rode together. Would you like to know what I realized that day at his party?

You see, little Sammy there was born January of the year I graduated high school. How old was Sammy on his birthday? Eight. Do you know what that means? That means that this May I will have been graduated from high school for EIGHT YEARS. And I had a mild panic attack. Because how am I this old?! How was that so long ago?! When in the hell did Solae get so tall?! All very valid questions that I felt needed answered immediately.

And then I chilled the eff out.

Because so what if I'm going to turn twenty-six in a few days (the 13th). I'm happy with life and I feel like I'm at a good point in mine (for the most part). I do what I want, when I want, with whomever I want (you just wait until James Spader gives me a call) and I'm surrounded by people that I love and care about. And when I actually do take those moments to realize what time it really is, I always find myself surrounded by my loved ones arriving somewhere between laughter and wine. 

And that's my comfy spot.

Call me the crazy cat lady.

(And if you're wondering, the other half of this picture had a dog in it).

When most people think of a "crazy cat lady" their mind immediately goes to some old lady with her gray hair in a bun, glasses pulled down on her face and she's the proud owner of about thirteen cats whom are her only company.

I have a dog. (And he's the absolute best).

But don't count me out as a "crazy cat lady" just yet. You see, not only do people think of "little gray haired ladies" as the "crazy cat ladies", but it's also used to describe single gals. I.e. Me.

It's a running joke, but I'm pretty sure that it's one of those jokes that people repeat all in good humor, but there's also a lot of merit behind it. The saying goes- "I'm single forever, I might as well go adopt a bunch of cats".

For one, if that's your mentality then I assume you think you suck, so if no one else wants to spend time with you, why would you make a poor/defenseless animal do it against its will? Rude.

Secondly, think a little bit more of yourself. Chances are you're a great lady that just hasn't found your compatible counter part. Why should that be considered a bad thing? Personally, I've been single for around three years (taboo for a 25 year old woman) and I couldn't be happier.

Are there times that I think it would be nice to have a significant other to cuddle with and share my thoughts and feelings?

Eh, I'm not really good with the whole "sharing" thing. Can I offer you a sarcastic comment instead? Those I have.

I just don't feel like you have to have a significant other in your life to define and fully appreciate yourself. I guess, I just don't require that kind of validation. Don't get me wrong, we all like attention and to feel "wanted" on occasion, but I like to do things when, how and with whom I want. I like having the "freedom" of it all.

A random cat showed up at our house over the past weekend. It appears to be a house cat that someone has randomly dropped off (P.s. whomever you guys are that did that- you're assholes). Everybody immediately took to it, but it seems to only want affection and/or attention from me.

I couldn't figure out why. I don't "hate" cats or anything, but I've always been a consistent dog kind of gal. Probably because dogs are more cuddly and I'm allergic to cats. But this cat has been on it when it comes to capturing my attention. It has even gone so far as to climb atop our handrails to peer into our house.

My brothers girlfriend decided to make the wise crack to me- "It probably wants all of your attention, because it can see your future. You're going to be a crazy cat lady!! (Insert laughter from her here)".

First things first, shut up.

Second, if you think that I'm going to be insulted by what you just implied, you are mistaken. I hear women in my everyday life, whether it be in person, social media, radio, or somewhere else on the internet complaining about their significant others. (And no, it's not just females complaining, but males to. I don't think that "all men are assholes" and it's "us" against "them" or something. No. Because we all know that there are plenty of females that suck to).

And since I like being single and all that it implies (I've never wanted to be married or have kids, nothing against those who do, it's just not for me), I don't find it offensive at all. In fact, I think of it this way:

Either I can have a significant other who's an asshole (and no, I'm not saying that everyone is, I'm not that jaded, but obviously if you know anything about my track record you know that I seem to have a type..... And that type always seems to land on asshole) and make myself unhappy.

Or, I can adopt a random cat, keep living for myself instead of others and let people think what they will about it (along with all of the other decisions in my life that they feel they should have an opinion on). I think I'm going to take the cat. I'll just keep feeding it dog food and giving it bowls of milk to drink. Crazy cat lady?

Bring it.

We should probably find a different laundromat.

Last Friday when I got off of work Momma and I had (pre)decided that we were going to go do laundry, as opposed to waiting until Saturday or Sunday morning. We were both tired and hungry, but wanted to just get it out of the way. (I was out of underwear. TMI? Sorry).

I had on my regular lounge bottoms and just the tank top I had been wearing underneath of my work shirt and didn't really think too much about it. Also, I was in house shoes, because we all know how "fancy" I am. I.e- Not fancy at all.

I was standing there, folding our laundry, minding my own business when the woman at the table across from me started talking to me. I'm not big on talking to people when I'm thinking about alcohol, food and replaying Sons of Anarchy episodes in my head, but I'm also not incredibly rude for no reason and started having a conversation with her.

And then the dude that was at the table behind me, well, let's just say that he.....

That's right. He thought that I was a hooker. Or I guess, "call girl" depending on which one does applications and/or has clients. I assume both have clients, but I don't think hookers take applications or background checks. In all fairness though, I'm not really sure if call girls do either, so I guess it could be either or. I really should look into that.

The point is he walked up to me while I was folding underwear and jeans and slid his number to me all "inconspicuous" and leaned in to whisper- "You know, in case you're excepting new applications". To which I promptly said- "Huh?!" And he gave me this little smirk like I was playing coy (I wasn't I legitimately had no clue what he was talking about) and was like- "You know, in case you might add another client." And then he winked at me and I said- "EXCUSE ME?!"

And he looked shocked for a minute and the look that eventually came to his face can only be described as an "OH SHIT" one for the history books. Then he tried the ultimate and was all- "Oh. My mistake. Can I just take you out to dinner then?"

No. No, Ottis, you can't. Although, I was really hungry and there's a Taco Bell across the street. But no.

And then he preceded to follow me out to our car and try the whole- "Your car is red to?! See! We're meant for each other" line that I assume he had seen on a random TV show and was all- "I gotta use that the next time that I inadvertently mistake a chick for a hooker and want to take her out to dinner".

I still don't understand why he mistook me for a hooker (or call girl, it's still undecided). I was in lounge pants and house shoes. Sure, I was wearing a tanktop, but it's not like it was showing all of my business off. I don't even own clothes that do that. And I know that he walked up and did all of this when I was folding my underwear, but it's not like they're sexy or something. Unless you have some weird fetish that I'm unaware of. They're so unsexy that they're just called underwear. Not panties, but underwear. I'm just so confused.