Sunday, July 22, 2007

Not to Complain . . .

That was a lie. I am going to complain.

I took a break today to get my nails done. The nail tech asked me, in broken English, "Are you hung over?"

"No. No." I replied, resigned, knowing where he was going.

"Then you look tired. Really tired." He seemed bound and determined to make sure I knew how awful I looked.

I don't begrudge him; it's true. My eyes are red, my dark circles many times worse than normal. They're all I see when I look in the mirror - two giant half-moons of exhaustion. I haven't worn makeup in days (and you people know how much I love my makeup), and my hair hasn't seen product in weeks (ditto). I've barely talked to my friends, and I haven't had a chance to make the rounds of all my favorite Indianapolis restaurants and shops before I leave for good.

Poor me.

The Bar is this Tuesday and Wednesday, and I have big plans to kick ass so I can get back to my concealer and styling cream. Oh, and the DNB.

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