Hair is kind of gross. My roommate Sebby leaves her hair all over the carpet in our apartment. We can literally track it from the bathroom to her bedroom in a line of nasty blonde hair strands. Don’t get me wrong, I shed too. Like this guy:

“Aw hell no.”

But with how much hair is messy and gross, I kind of have this problem. No matter what I’m doing, my hand seems to creep up to my head, wrap a strand or two around my fingers, and twirl like the wind.

It’s not only annoying for my hand – which hurts after awhile – but is embarrassing overall. MY HAIR IS NOT THAT AWESOME. Why does my brain subconsciously want to twirl it all the time? I could understand if my hair was like, silky smooth, and great to touch, but it’s super regular hair. I’m not saying I have the worst hair of all time, either. But it looks nothing like the hair on the Garnier Fructis commercials.

Jesus this hair would be beautiful to twirl. Gah! Damnit!

While I think hair twirling is cool and harmless activity, people unfortunately associate it with ditziness. Why do they have to be so judgmental? I can’t control the way my fingers feel about my hair. They’re in a committed relationship… or something. And while I have my occasional “ditzy” moment:

Best friend/other roommate Quyen: Becca, how much water did you put in the rice cooker?

Me: Water?

… yeah.

While I have my occasional ditzy moment, I am for the most part really aware of what’s going on! I’m actually very organized, despite the time I left every pair of pants I own all around the living room when the drier broke. And when I leave drinks on the table with just enough liquid for one more sip. And that whole “losing track of my school ID everyday only to find it in either a) the bathroom or b) the guts of the couch” thing.

I have it together. I do.

So why does my hair twirling continue to haunt me?

Here’s my explanation. Rather, Google’s explanations:

“For women, twirling or flicking their hair is a favourite flirting gesture.” Haha no.

“Hair twirling may be a comforting action for a child who is tense and anxious, and may become habitual later in life in stressful situations.” Okay, more like it.

“Nervous habits related to ‘hair’ such as twirling or pulling hair, are often linked to the head or the crown chakra. This is about boredom, lack of concentration, consciousness, a desire to open the crown chakra and ‘see’ beyond emotional problems.” DING DING DING.

So there you have it. I am a super enlightened person who is obviously too cool to concentrate and wants to open my chakra. BAM. Awesome.

Let’s talk about my body (ew). Just for a second, I promise! First of all, I am what some refer to as “pasty.” Other descriptions include pale, whitey, a ghost, etc. I probably wasn’t always this way. I must have been tan as a kid, right? I mean, I went outside back then. If, y’know, “being outside” meant my brother and the neighbors chased me around the yard with Nerf guns for awhile.

“This should be enough ammo to hunt little girls.”

But somewhere down the line, my skin stayed in a perpetual state of pastiness. I never really noticed this until middle school when I wore my mom’s shorts everyday and some girl looked down at my legs and said “You’re really white.”  Me being a weird loser who wore my mom’s shorts, I assumed this girl just meant caucasian. Um, duh, I thought, you are too. But more and more as I noticed other white people’s orange glowy skin next to mine I started to get it. As in, oh, I don’t look like a tan person but a WEIRD GHOSTY VERSION OF ONE.

Me.

I never really paid attention to the shade of my skin, I guess. It didn’t matter to me, and still doesn’t. All shades are beautiful. Vanilla, chocolate, and everything in between. Do people still use those to describe skin tone? Which brings me to why I will always have a farmer’s tan. I don’t care. I didn’t even know what a farmer’s tan was until my parents picked me up from summer camp. I took a shower in the motel on the way home and finally got a chance to look at myself in a full mirror after 6 weeks of sun:

Also me.

“Oooooh, so that’s what a farmer’s tan is,” I thought, and then collapsed of sunburn death. After that summer, my skin went back to its normal state for awhile, mainly because I stopped going outside. Don’t get me wrong, I do love the outdoors! Some of the best times I’ve spent outside are:

• Walking to my car
• Being in my car with the windows down (does this count?)
• Walking from my car to wherever I’m going

But that’s not enough for even a year-round farmer’s tan. But then? Then. Then came college, where I decided to do one of the most outdoorsey things ever  – marching band. At my university, marching band = being outside for 8 hours a day one week before school starts. And in this one week alone, I create my farmer’s tan for the ENTIRE YEAR. It’s so magical!

It’s so beautiful I can’t stand it.

But there’s more. After I started marching in my most favorite shoes to wear ever, TOMS, I acquired what is now known as the TOMStan. Not to be confused with anyone named Tom Stan.

Three versions of the TOMStan. Maybe one of them is Tom Stan!

My point being there are lots of combinations out there. Skin is skin. Mine always has a farmer’s tan, and that’s okay. Just use your sunscreen and all that like Dr. Oz says and everything will be a-ok!

Most realistic photo of me yet.

“Oh my gosh, how can you like, carry real books?! I much prefer to sit on the beach and pretend to read my Kindle when I’m really just people watching and getting sand all over the screen.”

Sound familiar?

It does to me. Possibly because it is me.

See, everyone these days has an MP3 player, mainly because they sell them for like $14.99 at Target. Why carry around multiple CDs?  It doesn’t make sense. And so I thought the same logic  would carry over to books.

I just thought this picture was funny.

But what I forgot was that books are cool. I don’t think anyone ever collected CDs because they thought the shiny disc was awesome – just the music on said shiny disc. But books, with their old people smell and weird cover art, not only look cool when you read them but make you feel cooler when you’ve got a great shelf  to show off. In fact, for a successful show-offy shelf I’ve decided one really only needs:

• A book about eastern religion and/or a manual on atheism
• A pamphlet on feminist theory
• A favorite classic like Alice in Wonderland 
• Something by Dave Eggers
• A collection of angsty and/or witty poems
• Vegetarian cookbook
• Lonely Planet something or another

Hipsters people can’t have these cool show-offy shelves on an e-reader. I get it. But for me, the portability and freaking awesomeness of having lots of things to read (that I’ll never actually read) in one place is just spectacular. Shit, I even had a subscription to the New Yorker on my Kindle at one point! Did I read every issue? No. But it was awesome knowing I had the new issue at my fingertips just dying to be skimmed for the cartoons.

Foreshadowing?

The Kindle, to me, is the epitome of cool. This might be because I am also slightly obsessed with shopping on Amazon. And if anyone that works at Amazon is reading this, please stop sending me emails of things you think I’d like. Chances are, I’ll buy it. Maybe not that day, or the next, but you betcha I’ll wishlist that shit and grab it the minute the price drops. This happens a lot with Kindle books, in which I’ll receive an email that says something like this:

“So you liked Tina Fey’s book huh? Read it in a day and awkwardly laughed in public? Well, you should also read this, this, and this, because like Bossypants, they will also cause you to LOL at the gym on the exercise bike that’s making your underwear give you a wedgie. I’m serious, you’ll love them! Now buy all three. Go ahead. Hit the “Buy with 1 click” button. C’mon. What are you waiting for? Seriously. Do it. DO IT. IT’S NOT LIKE YOU HAVE A LIFE ANYWAY. Love, Amazon.”

But as much as Amazon can be a conniving son-of-a-bitch, I usually super enjoy the things I read. And thus, once again, my Kindle becomes a worthy purchase. Also did I mention how sleek and comfortable it is to hold? If you’re like me and read to fall asleep, you can lie down with it in bed and even spoon! In that totally I-am-not-a-weirdo-who-does-weird-things-with-electronic-devices like Emma Stone and Andy Samberg:

So now, paperbacks and hardcovers just seem cumbersome. And with the new Kindle Fire being all tablet-y and Cheapy McCheapster? I’m pretty sure my next upgrade will still be with Amazon. That is to say I don’t buy regular books sometimes, I do! But only the ones I either can’t read on Kindle or ones that have colorful illustrations or maps. I will say e-ink doesn’t really do justice to pretty pictures.

I’m a kindlesnob. Sue me. And like these people, I super enjoy being one.

Actually, maybe they’re having too much fun. I don’t really get it.

I really like Disney a lot. However, this is nothing compared to my brother and his fiance, who have been planning their fairytale Disney wedding for 6 months. It’s happening this week, and I am about as excited as Kristen Wiig as the lady who can’t keep a secret and runs into shit:

“I can’t keep a secret and run into shit.”

However, getting married with the mouse by my side isn’t really in the cards for me. Even if I wasn’t a 20 year old social reject with no love life, I just can’t picture myself tying the knot in the place of my childhood memories. It would sort of be like, “And over there is where Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride used to be, where I threw up an entire slushie on an animatronic! And over there is where my mom lost me in the Honey I Shrunk the Kids playground. Oh, sorry. In sickness and health, I do.”

The playground that eats children.

My brother, on the other hand, is crazy into the Disney theme, so much that the bridal party will walk around Walt Disney World with matching wedding shirts. Their ceremony is chock full of Disney music, and not just from the films but the actual theme parks and firework shows. His fiance is actually going to wear glass slippers, pretend to lose one at the ceremony, and be presented with it at the reception in front of everyone. And I totally made that last part up, but I’m sure if that was available they would totally do it.

“Your Fairy Godmother is shitfaced drunk.”

As for my wedding? Well, I’m more of the on-the-beach kind of girl, mainly because it would be really beautiful and also hilarious to watch everyone get sand on their clothes. It would be small and romantic and Paul McCartney would make a special appearance to sing “Blackbird” even though that song is about the Civil Rights Movement. I’d get lots of gifts in the form of decorative teapots I’ll never use and post all the pictures on Facebook in an album titled “The day I met Paul McCartney – oh and got married LOL.” My future spouse will be so excited to marry me that they’ll experience an ulcer like Edward did when he married Bella in Breaking Dawn Part 1:

May I just point out this would have never happened to Jacob.

But as the non-bride in my brother’s wedding, I will so party it up Disney-style. I fully plan to put so many light-up ice cubes in all of my virgin daiquiris and bump and grind with Mickey and friends until the sun comes up. I will simply reek of Disney magic and fairy dust. I’ll have sung “I Just Can’t Wait to be King” so many times that I will never, ever want to be king.

“Pssst. I just got shitfaced with Fairy Godmother.”

Because Disney really is magical, and my family does love it. I grew up as a Disney kid and that will never, ever change. My brother’s dream wedding will be perfect and I’m so happy for him! Here’s to his future kids throwing up lots of Disney slushies and getting lost in traumatizing oversized playgrounds.