1. Gilmore Girls: Every so often Gilmore Girls would come up in conversation and I would confess that I had never seen it. Eyes would go wide. Gasps would be heard. Chests would be clutched (theirs, not mine). It was, if I may be so bold, an even bigger deal than when people found out I had never seen any of the Star Wars movies. (My husband rectified the latter shortly after we were married, and later made me watch the new ones as well. I remain unimpressed… sorry Star Wars fans.)
Sometimes I like to have some noise while I work, and I was tired of my regular podcasts, so over the last few weeks, I decided to fill that gaping hole in my pop culture library.
I finished the last episode a few days ago, and I kind of wish I’d nerdily live-blogged my reactions, but I think I mostly enjoyed it. I bet my reactions would have been solidly different if I’d caught this show when it first aired. I was younger then, and probably would have identified more with Loralei (Lorelei? Lorelai?). But now that I’m an old, cantankerous bat, I found myself identifying more with her parents, minus the snobbery.
I sort of wanted to throw all the shoes at the screen during season 7, but that’s over now, and I’m glad. Team Luke forever. I hated all of Rory’s boyfriends, and I’m extra mad at Dean and whoever decided that a great way for a kid to lose their virginity was to do it with a married guy. Excuse me while I pick up my cane again and wave it around whilst shouting “get off my lawn,” but any story line that involves cheating fills me with rage and sadness. Sookie is my favorite and I must shamefacedly admit it’s the first Melissa McCarthy role I’ve seen. She is rainbows and glitter and I’m super sad she won’t be coming back for the probably ill-advised reboot.
2. New Shoes: So I mentioned briefly, somewhere, I think? That I started getting a runner’s knee issue on the outside of my right knee. Weird, since I do not run unless being chased by a hungry bear. It ruined my walking routine and has seriously bummed me out for lo, all these many months.
One of my many doctors (I collect them, for funsies) suggested I go get my feet analyzed and get proper shoes to deal with my high arches and pronation. This was after he had me bring in my sad Fila shoes that I got for $15 at Costco. I think he was a little cross that we had been doing all this stretching and resting after I assured him my workout shoes were “fine,” because $15 Fila shoes that are also probably 10 years old at least are not fine.
So I went to Wasatch Running Center and immediately found myself extremely intimidated. But I was soon put at ease by being told to put on socks that were not my own and jog down a pseudo catwalk in the store in front of all the people. Right, so it was super embarrassing, but also very helpful. The lady that helped me was very nice and I spent a BAJILLION MILLION dollars on shoes and arch support inserts that make my feet want to run for fun.
Just kidding, I will never run for fun. But I took them on a couple of test walks and NO KNEE PAIN! Confetti and cupcakes for everyone.
3. Bookface hair: I got bangs. Or fringe, if you’re fancy. I haven’t had bangs for a very long time. At least several years. I have to get used to them feeling like creeping things on my forehead but so far I am not filled with drastic-hair-change-regret also known as DHCR — a terribly sad and tragic condition. We should make ribbons and organize a 5K walk to raise funds for the cause. Free Thin Mints for everyone suffering from DHCR. #imasurvivor, see, I grew out a pixie cut. Solidarity DHCR sisters! And also, I could have used some Thin Mints during the process, for sure.
Anyway, so not having DHCR is good, but I am a little concerned that my new bangs hearken a little too much unto high school hair, but they are at least, less crispy. And also, if we’re honest, less brown.
Mega props to Kismet for the Napoleon Dynamite caption for my throw back picture. I laughed for days.
I would sort of like to update my profile photo on Facebook with this terrible Photobooth picture (the one with the phone hiding half my face, just to be clear) so that those who know me in real life will not be startled when they bump into me at the market and discover I have a giant regent-era mustache on my forehead. BUT, alas, I will not do any Facebook profile picture updating ever again.
Why? You ask? BECAUSE. A profile photo change is not like this quiet thing that happens. It’s BROADCASTED, you know? When you update your photo on Twitter, nobody is the wiser, and sometimes you even have to announce it so people don’t wonder who you are because your tiny thumbnail looks so different. But on Facebook, it is NEWS. It sticks your GIGANTIC new photo in everyone’s feeds. Everyone’s! And then all the people comment on it and it’s very, very embarrassing. It’s way more overwhelming than posting a bang-shot to my tiny, private Instagram account. I guess I just don’t like making Great Uncle George in Koosharem feel like he has to complement my skin tone.
The last time I updated my picture on The Facebook, I deleted the big huge photo from my timeline thinking that would be that, but no. No, indeed. Facebook still sent it out to everyone like it was the latest and greatest cat video.
So I will be bangless and 39 years old on Facebook forever, the end.