For those wondering about the exploits of the Girl Scouts, I have little to say. They all trickled home around 11ish, then watched Mulan and went to bed. However, given how LOUD they all were this morning, I suspect at least some of them hit the Jello shots. They all went off to SF today, and I hope they stay awhile.

So I decided to relax today and make some of those custom tarot cards I mentioned the other day. While I don't have enough pictures that are suitable for most of the things I'm trying to portray, I do have some fairly nice stuff done. I saw this site and was totally impressed by the work she had done. I only wish I could find as many cool images as that, but alas, my myriad fashion magazines from design class are not all that helpful in finding non-glazed-looking model photos. Oh well, I still have some stuff done. My Fool card features a parachuter hanging from a tree that he's hopelessly entangled in, which is funny, but the waterfall I tried to put in below him just looks odd. Oh well, the others look better. My Death card I took from this odd Egyptian ad for Skittles- I stood up the sarcohophagus with a rainbow shining across it, gave it some wings and stuck some eyes across the top of the card, and it looks very mysterious. I also like my Devil card, featuring the devil Altoids woman with a red swirl background and a black tail and pitchfork borrowed from the BSD demon. I found a nice Tower pic from SF (all lit up, yet dark) and added some flames and lightning, and I found an enormous Moon coming up over an ocean and added a few dogs standing on the mountains. I took this big glowy sunshiny ad for cards and cut out the little cartoon kids on it for the Sun card, and added in some grass and mountains and flowers.

As for the minor arcana cards I've done so far (not a lot), Tony Soprano, with a big flaming background and a Beefeater stick, is the King of Wands, while Heath Ledger on his Knight's Tale horse is now holding a wand and riding by mountains. Kelly from Survivor 1 is the 2 of Wands, I've got her sitting on a big tree by the ocean and looking out.

It's been fun, though now I really want to get more magazines so I can find more suitable pictures. (No no, Jen, no spending.)

Alas, Mom had to call me twice today and ruin my day by yelling at me for an hour to get my hair cut and curl it for the interview. We've never agreed on much when it comes to hair, and she's always hated mine. I can't be home for more than a day without her attacking it with scissors or a curling iron or some other implement of torture. My hair has been through every style and every process you can probably imagine. I no longer have ANY, zip, zero, zilch interest in styling my hair, which I'm not good at any way (how you people can do anything to the back of your head, I have NO idea.). I am also completely averse to getting my hair cut by new people, because I don't trust them to not decide that I'd look so sweet with a pageboy and cut it all off without my permission. I have a hairdresser in my hometown who has been trained over many years to NOT chop off more of my hair than absolutely necessary. And yes, I have good reason to worry about this- an ex-roommate of mine with butt-length hair went into a salon here for a trim and he took off half of her hair. She was devastated. It took me a decade to get mine this long, and it grows slow, and I am NOT getting it cut short, dammit! And I don't want to worry about styling it beyond sometime getting around to redyeing it (I don't know when I'm even going to do THAT) and blowdrying it on the day.

So I completely pissed Mom off by not immediately acquiesing to this, and we screamed at each other for an hour, her yelling that I have to look pretty because the prettier people get hired and me screaming that I'm supposed to look professional (i.e. with NO hair showing), not pretty, and that nobody wants you to look pretty, they want you to look boring as hell.

Oh, I dread wearing the suit.

So then I asked Claire (who works at another college and would know these things) what people wore to interviews there, and she said basically nice pants and sweaters.

My. Head. Is. Splitting. With. Confusion. I don't fucking know what to wear now or what to do.

Oh, and by the way, my aunt apparently called Mom to tell her that I'm overqualified for the position I'm applying for (um, duh, like I didn't notice?). She's supposed to be calling me at some point now. Gawwwwd.

And if anyone else tells me to have a positive attitude, I will shove something sharp up their ass.

Who me, cranky?

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