This is Muda.

Hello, world.

I'm feeling super snarky today. It probably has something to do with being in a house with real phones again.

I've discovered I don't like juice boxes. Because of their box-like shape, they don't fit in the refrigerator as well as jugs or bottles and they're hard to hold because I don't have giant man hands. Also, you have to pour out of the side of the box. This is annoying when you get to the bottom, and you flip it over to get the last sips, but then it goes too far above the hole and doesn't come out.

So, in conclusion, juice boxes:
1. Are bad for refrigerator logistics
2. Are wasteful of last sips
3. Make the juice kind of taste like cardboard. Just a little bit.

And you know- every time I come home, I have a grandmother story. I haven't even seen her since I've been home, and I already have one.

So last night I get this e-mail from her, detailing how she has a package that she must get to the post office ASAP. I don't know what this package was or what it contained, but I assume it was anti-terrorist chemicals because of the way she stressed the importance of its expedition. In her e-mail, she states, "if by chance, you are going out between now and the end of the week" could I help her.
Ok, you got that? "Now"- as in MONDAY- and "the end of the week", which, last time I checked, was Friday/Saturday.
And I'm like- yeah! I'm prolly going to WR tomorrow (read: Tuesday) and can drop it off for her.

Side story: My uncle and family came to my grandma's house after an 11-hour drive late last night.

Back to true story: I get another e-mail from her today saying how her and my uncle were able to mail the package this morning and she would no longer be requiring my services.
So I'm like- instead of waiting a few more hours for me to take it on my way, she asks my travel-weary uncle to make a special trip to get it there, oh, I dunno- maybe 3 hours sooner?

And I can only wonder: Was it worth it?

Disclaimer: it probably wasn't anti-terrorism chemicals. It was probably something harmless and non-confidential. Like socks. Or a fruit basket.

"I like fruit baskets because it gives you the ability to mail someone a piece of fruit without appearing insane. Like, if someone just mailed you an apple, you'd be like, ‘Huh? What the hell is this?’, but if it’s in a fruit basket you're like, ‘This is nice!'"
-Demetri Martin

Today I got my haircut, and I actually paid someone to do it.
Here is the before shot:
















You know, not bad, but very plain.
Then afterwards:



















LAYAS!!!!!!!!
It's so FLUFFY- I love it!

(Dear Boyfriend, I apologize for the myspacey faces. Love, Allie J)

The only downside is that now I smell like aerosol what-not. They actually had this hairspray that had sunscreen in it, which is actually a stupid idea. It's not like your hair can get cancer.
Critics: "Oh! But it can be damaged by the sun!"
Dead cells? Damaged? Really? That's like saying you can hurt a horse by beating it when it's already dead.
Am I saying your argument is like beating a dead horse?
Maybe.

And this picture looks like I'm about to hug you with my new haircut.
I so would.



















The other night, Nephew Benjamin was acting like a baby. I mean, I guess that's only appropriate. So I was in the living room, practicing tolerance, and Benjamin was crying on his way out. Dad, not knowing I was in the other room, was like, "You better hush! If Aunt Allie hears you, she'll write about you on her blog!"

Apparently, my blog is now used as a threat to correct aberrant behavior.
I do what I can.

And I can what I do,
TWS