Is it just me?

I did my nails yesterday. I usually hate my hands. I think they are stubby. I always wanted long graceful fingers but instead have pudgy fat ones. Then, every once in a while the moon will enter the 7^th house and Jupiter aligns with Mars and all of my nails will be the same perfect length and I will paint them. Suddenly, I undergo a metamorphosis into a glamorous hand model, a’ la those ladies from the Price is Right when they wave their hands around refrigerator’s and such. They look so shiny and pretty and I’ll find myself showcasing my hands while doing the most boring things from holding a glass to putting crème on my face. Alas, it never lasts long. One nail will break and then the others in a fit of mourning will all start to commit suicide one after the other. In a week I have the crack whore manicure sported by the more fashionable meth heads down the trailer park.  Something similar happens when I wear heels. I can feel like the winner in the Miss Blobby contest 2010 but I put some sky high heels on and much like Wonder Woman without the gleeful spinning (I get dizzy) I am transformed into Heidi Klum sashaying down the runway at a Victoria’s Secret show.  I guess every woman has the few things that make her feel beautiful no matter what. These are just a couple of mine.

 And now for something completely different…

Have you ever watched something again after years away? You remembered you liked it and think, “I’ll watch this again.” (Ah, the joy of Netflix) We watched Thirtysomething last night. It is the first time I’ve seen it in like 20 years and I used to love it back in the day.  Well, they should of called in Whinysomething. I swear all they did was complain. I told my husband that you could make a drinking game of watching the show and drink every time they complained about something. Unfortunately, you’d end up face down in a puddle of your own vomit half way through and your liquor bills would be exorbitant.  Honestly, if they wanted to complain about anything it should have been the horrible clothes and hair they wore, high-waisted jeans and mullets aren’t really a timeless look. But it is amazing how perceptions change with age and things once beloved are terrible now, and The Lost Boys I am looking at you!