"This little girl, she grew up and moved away."

BLOG NUMBER 2:
500 gallons is a lot of water...
I would like to describe for my gentle-readers the definition of a hot-mess.
In iambic pentameter.
At 5:15 a.m. I laid my weary head down for what was sure to be the most disappointing sleep of my month. How many times can you hit the snooze button before it becomes pathetic? My mom knocks/opens my door at 10:45.
"Valerie, it's after 10:30...normally you've showered by now."
"I'm not showering today."
"Okay, do you have your alarm set?"
"Kind of."
The door shuts
*Scene*
Finally at 11:00 a.m. I prise myself from my covers. I stood in the same spot in my room for about 5 minutes trying to figure out what was stopping me from calling off work. It was like some cosmic force. My mind was made up. No work today! But for some reason the action of picking up my phone and dialing into work was not in the cards. I opened the door of my room and shuddered as the cold air from the rest of the house hit me. How did I manage to take my socks off while sleeping yet again? I stumble up the stairs like a rouge pinball bumping into the walls as I go. I manage to make it into the bathroom, and relieve myself without any outrageous happenings. Before I begin getting ready for work I take a look at myself in the bathroom mirror, and I do not like what I see.
My ponytail has half fallen out. Makeup left over from yesterday is smeared across my left cheek, and creases from my pillow across the right. A rather thick stream of snot is running out of my nose. My half tucked in shirt hides the fact that I have a wedgie reminiscent of one of Jim Carey's more successful movies: Ace Ventura Pet Detective. I let out a great sigh of disappointment and think to myself, "I should've taken a shower."
No time for should've's. So I wipe the snot from my nose on my right sleeve, turn out the light and make my way back to my room to begin my transformation.
I take what's left of my ponytail out of it's elastic prison and let my hair fall to my shoulders. I give it a good lookin' at and decide that brushing it is just out of the question. Back it goes, up into an unforgiving, messy bun. The pillow creases on the right side of my face are quickly turning into a distant memory. Removing yesterday's makeup and applying today's is no problem. Makeup and I understand each other. The offending stream of snot is back, and the thought occurs to me, "Could I be getting sick?"
And I sneeze. Hypochondria is no laughing matter.
It's now that I realize I probably should've done laundry as I have no clean clothes to wear to work. I'm also noticing a cold chill creeping up my back. I bet it's that cold I developed a few seconds prior. I go rooting through my dirty laundry and find three potential pairs of pants for work. I give each of them a good smell, and choose the ones that smell the least like dead raccoon (hobby of mine). I put them on and realize they could use some ironing. I turn on my straightening iron for my hair, and give each pant leg a pass from the straightener. It doesn't really work. Oh well, not going for perfection here...mostly just aiming for function. I feel like I have a fever. I wonder to myself how I contracted swine flu only moments earlier. I decide to bundle up since I'm ill and put on a couple sweaters. As I step out of my room, dressed for...well I was just grateful to be dressed...I realize that my entire outfit doesn't match. Another shrug. I go up the stairs and take the bathroom mirror on for a second time.
Greasy, stringy hair in a messy bun. Wrinkly pants. Blood shot eyes with massive dark circles underneath. The a'fore mentioned tribute of snot making another guest appearance on my face. You might be asking yourself, "Why does Valerie describe herself as looking so haggard?"
Well this, my friends, is how you make a hot-mess.
I asked a question earlier in this blog. How many times can you hit the snooze button before it becomes pathetic?
The answer is 9.