"Somethin' 'bout platinum, irrefutably..."

Pre-holiday haircut and color: "What doesn't kill you only makes you blonder..."  

That free wine they provide is half the reason I keep coming back to this salon. (Post-apartment move, it's annoyingly far.)

The other half, as I texted a friend:

Me: "My hair salon is next door to that bar with the cheesy pretzels, so I think a to-go order after my appointment is a must, no?"

Friend: "Otherwise you're just wasting your life, honestly."

I can't waste my life, you guys.

#DrunkyCheesyDestiny

(Upon reflection, I wish I'd asked Friend to join me at the bar. We could've taken my faboo hair for a test run, and she'd be a great wingman. Plus, I reiterate, cheesy pretzels.)

"Hide your crazy and start actin' like a lady..."

I am obsessed with this song -- it's my new Sassy Strut/car singing/Pull Yourself Together song. In addition:

a) Miranda Lambert looks better unkempt than I do when I bring my capital-A game. I need more eye makeup, like, immediately.

b) I'm pretty sure I've HAD this conversation with my mother.

c) You can write it off because it's country music, but it's a bawdy, curvy, big-haired blonde sangin' 'bout drankin', and that there is some of my favorite comfort music. (For obvious reasons.) This song is the twangy, guitar-driven equivalent of "Conceal, don't feel" -- Miranda Lambert is basically Elsa, and you KNOW that movie would've been way better with whiskey and pills.