Is there an echo, echo, echo in here?

So some things never change. (Or is it "somethings?" I dunno either, anyways).

I've been called many things for braving the notion of returning home to the nest. Smart. A Saint. (I tend to only like to remember the good, lol). And amongst the delicious breakfasts my dad makes (thanks for the malt-o-meal this morning!), the free laundromat (I do wash my own clothes, thanks), and rent-free environment, there are some things that continue to linger.

So here are the top things I hear from my mother:

1.) You need to watch it; we have alcoholism in the family.

Fact: No one's ever had "alcoholism." An uncle drowned his sorrows away after a divorce (can you blame him?), and we all partake in tail-gating. And while substance abuse is something to watch for in regards to your health. I doubt my twice-weekly one-a-night gin and tonics are going to throw me into AA anytime soon. Besides as my dad says, "Rehab is for quitters."

And besides, it's the single most-efficient release of cares since living with your parents can breed a multitude of emotions. If I weren't to have the as-needed nightcap to settle myself, I would be mad. I'd be long past going mad. There's only so much life to be had without a drink to take the edge off. And ya know what, they taste dang good.

2. Just leave it [your hair] alone.

Oh boy. My favorite discussion. If this were 1971, I would totally sport hotpants, knee-high athletic socks, and long hair to my back while chasing down freshman girls to initiate with ketchup and mustard. (Get it? Name that movie for 2 points!) But seeing as I'm now a young professional trying to make my way into the world of paychecks and steady work, I've got to pull things together.

Earlier in the year, I came home with a shorter 'do (like to my collar bone) which ended up taking off a few inches. NBD (No Big Deal). Oi ve. I forgot my mom's stance on anyone getting a hair cut. "You should grow it out." And so with one person's quick brilliance (*ahem* mine), I countered with, "Well, when you do, I will." Muhahahahahaahhaahhahahahahaah

So as I prepare for the shears this evening, I contemplate bringing my hair home in a cap. As much fun as it is to show off a fabulous new 'do, it's equally retarded to have it berated to death. So as you can tell haircuts are moot points.

3.) How do you know that you don't like them [a french manicure] if you don't try it?"

Ugh. I don't know how many times I've told her I don't like french manicures. A bazillion probably. Nothing against the French (I do love french toast, lol), but the overpopulation of the french manicure is what does me in. All I can think about are people who spend their money on Shaniqua-length tips rather than feeding the 10 kids they have back at home. Yes, sleezy. But that's essentially my wrap on the two-tone look.

I prefer shorter, it's called "active length" (which makes it sound better than 'bleedy stubs of death'), nails so I can function normally. I do enjoying buttoning my pants in a timely fashion as opposed to the delicate approach required with the Shaniqua-length ones. And I do enjoy my eyeballs have all their layers which is good since short nails don't remove beneficial layers to my vision.

I know this one will be drawn out because she just sees them as tre chic. I'm not really into tre chic, I'm into Stacey London fabulous. :) And I did branch out recently, which is a move in the nail department. I usually get ballet pink, which is a safe conservative color. But that all went out the window as I tried on, essentially, Barbie pink. A huge offshoot from the norm, but so far, so good. We'll see. I love my safety harness. It's secure. But sometimes (or is it "some times," lol), I need to go out of my comfort zone. Looks like I'll be there for awhile.