Well this weekend started off with a bang.
Or I should say side-bang, actually.
As if on clockwork, this time of year every year, I always decide I need a "mini" makeover.
I think it has something to do with that fact I haven't left my house in 37 weeks,
thus meaning I haven't touched my makeup bag or hair brush in that long either.
(You're welcome, Chris.)
Inspired by Michelle Obama, I decided I wanted to dye my hair black and get full on bangs.
And by black I mean light light blonde.
But as soon as the stylist clipped one big piece of hair I panicked and yelled STOP.
I imagine it was probably a similar experience for Brit Brit when she accidentally shaved her head.
Although unlike Brit, I wasn't cutting my hair to hide from drug tests.
Or was I...
So this is what we ended up with as you can see.
One fat ass swoop of a bang.
And this is Chris taking a shot in celebration of me actually leaving the house.
It might not be life changing, but for now it will do.
That'll do pig, that'll do.
So to celebrate my new bang we decided to mix things up a bit and went to a very hip
little bar/record label/gallery in Logan Square called the Whistler.
I definitely felt like a poser there, but hell, I had bangs now so I went with it and pretended I was cool enough to be at a bar that was also a record label.
Whatever the hell that means.
I had one too many of those little orange drinks and woke up hurting a bit on Saturday.
The kind of hurt that only a pound of hash browns and a gallon of orange juice could cure.
But Harlow was not about to let us have a lazy day.
He insisted we take him to the dog beach.
We treated ourselves to a little bit of Edzo's after the beach.
Edzo's is probably my favorite burger spot in the city.
And it just so happens to be only about three blocks away from where we live.
So that is awesome/dangerous.
I seriously love everything about this place.
If you're ever in Chicago and you enjoy a good burger, you have to go.
My go-to is the turkey burger with a side of truffle fries.
My love for these truffle fries is borderline psychotic.
Dear God they're delicious.
They've got to be sprinkled with something illegal because I literally yearn for them after a few days of not having them.
And that's been a little bit of our weekend thus far.
We're now only 18 days away from March, people.
There's a light at the end of this dreary tunnel, I can see it coming!
Happy Sunday.
Or I should say side-bang, actually.
As if on clockwork, this time of year every year, I always decide I need a "mini" makeover.
I think it has something to do with that fact I haven't left my house in 37 weeks,
thus meaning I haven't touched my makeup bag or hair brush in that long either.
(You're welcome, Chris.)
Inspired by Michelle Obama, I decided I wanted to dye my hair black and get full on bangs.
And by black I mean light light blonde.
But as soon as the stylist clipped one big piece of hair I panicked and yelled STOP.
I imagine it was probably a similar experience for Brit Brit when she accidentally shaved her head.
Although unlike Brit, I wasn't cutting my hair to hide from drug tests.
Or was I...
So this is what we ended up with as you can see.
One fat ass swoop of a bang.
And this is Chris taking a shot in celebration of me actually leaving the house.
That'll do pig, that'll do.
So to celebrate my new bang we decided to mix things up a bit and went to a very hip
little bar/record label/gallery in Logan Square called the Whistler.
I definitely felt like a poser there, but hell, I had bangs now so I went with it and pretended I was cool enough to be at a bar that was also a record label.
Whatever the hell that means.
The kind of hurt that only a pound of hash browns and a gallon of orange juice could cure.
But Harlow was not about to let us have a lazy day.
He insisted we take him to the dog beach.
So much to my hangover's dismay,
instead of lying on our warm couch all day watching House of Cards
we played on a frozen lake instead.
Woof. It was as awful as it sounds.
We treated ourselves to a little bit of Edzo's after the beach.
Edzo's is probably my favorite burger spot in the city.
And it just so happens to be only about three blocks away from where we live.
So that is awesome/dangerous.
I seriously love everything about this place.
If you're ever in Chicago and you enjoy a good burger, you have to go.
My love for these truffle fries is borderline psychotic.
Dear God they're delicious.
They've got to be sprinkled with something illegal because I literally yearn for them after a few days of not having them.
And that's been a little bit of our weekend thus far.
We're now only 18 days away from March, people.
There's a light at the end of this dreary tunnel, I can see it coming!
Happy Sunday.
