Object of My Momentary Affection

You're beautiful. You're beautiful.
You're beautiful, it's true.
I saw your face in a crowded place,
And I don't know what to do,
'Cause I'll never be with you.

Have you heard that song. It's okay. The guy's voice bugs me. In the better parts he sounds like Rod Stewart's less talented brother (I put that in for Marietta. I don't listen to Rod Stewart).

A little while ago, Derek and I went to my sister-in-law to get haircuts. Nothing says "employable" like a smart hairdo. We were looking at famous movie stars on the covers of the hairstyle magazines. Most of them were hardly recognizable. I noticed all of them had shapely lips that looked like candy and eyes as vibrant as road flares. The rest of the face was a blur of even-toned makeup. Apparently beauty lies in bright eyes, shimmering lips and fancy hair.

This probably sums up my philosophy on being "stereo-typically pretty." Describing a girl as tall, thin, blonde, with "a lot going on upstairs" (open to interpretation) is typically enough to pique any guy's interest. There are many people who meet this description that are not attractive. And I wasn't moved by any of the air-brushed faces on the magazine covers. I looked at myself in the mirror and held my hand over my nose to see if my eyes and lips could melt butter. It didn't do a whole lot for me, but I see myself just about everyday so maybe I'm jaded.

A few months ago my little family went shopping at Target. My wife took the older kids inside and I sat in the car with the baby while he slept. After a minute of sitting there quietly some young girl got in the car next to ours. She writhed around in the driver's seat for awhile. She was crying. I was worried she was too distraught to drive or something. After about ten minutes she made a big fuss, looking at herself in the mirror on the dashboard trying to get her face back together. When she was ready, she got out of the car, adjusted the Target nametag on her shirt and went into the building throught the employee entrance.

She was probably just crying over some stupid boy. I don't know why she was crying, but I admired her just for being human and for getting herself together and going back to her job. I'm rooting for her.

While I'm alluding at the qualities of "shallowness," I'll mention that I stayed up late trying to record some music to post on Myspace.com (Isn't that place like being at some bad party? Can we go home now?). I thought people might find that interesting. I recorded a couple things but couldn't convert the files to an upload-able format. I'll keep tyring and let you know.