Ever since the new neighbors moved in downstairs, condom wrappers have littered the cul-de-sac in front of the crib. I’m kinda thinking to myself, “Uh, I know car sex is fun and all, but when you’re doing it in front of the crib you just moved into, doesn’t it sort of lose its appeal? I mean, just sayin’.”

So I’ve been crabbin’ to everyone who’ll listen, as well as to those who’d rather not, about my hair and how much I’d really like to shave it off my head, except that I can’t because the wedding’s next week, and though baldness would certainly be not inappropriate, it’s kinda not the look I was hoping for. The look I have now, however, is equally distasteful: Ben has had me growing it out since September, and now it’s jaw-length in back and just past my chin in front, and up until about a week ago, it was working out. Couldn’t get it as smooth as he or his gorgeous Bride-to-Be can, but I could at least get it close.

Now? It’s too heavy, and what used to take 10 minutes tops to dry now takes 20-30 and won’t blow completely straight. But instead of curls, I get what I like to call “the bends” (pretty self-explanatory), and the only way I can make it not look super-dumb is by tucking it behind my ears. Bottom line: I look like Marilyn Quayle with honey-colored bangs that have roots. How you like me NAO!??