Yoga and Me

Hey, long, lost friends! It's been while...again....*looks at the ground sheepishly* Sorry about that. You people know I'm busy!! I don't think I've sat down all week. I even stand in my sleep. Seriously. It's an art.

Speaking of sleeping, I've started doing yoga recently.  I also recently realized how unflexible I really am. Downward dog? More like sleeping cat! Heh heh heh.

I believe I've mentioned before how much I hate to workout, or even sweat for that matter, so yoga is more my pace. Laying down is working out? Yeah, I'll do it.

I try to do Insanity once in a while, and by once in awhile, I mean annually. Have you tried Insanity? No?

Don't.

It hurts.

Blood. Guts. Everywhere.

But I've kept up with yoga, and to risk sounding like a major hippie, it makes me feel more centered, and calm, and all that. As long as I don't have people constantly interrupting me, it's actually a pretty good workout. That's how I've learned to sleep standing up! I'm amazing, I know.

So if you have any great yoga poses or programs, let me know, and I will check them out. Just remember I'm a beginner, so don't try to get me doing any head stands or anything.

I'll try to keep you guys more up to date, because I know you all cried about my absence (just humor me). The life of a cosmetologist is grueling!!

More to come my pretties!

-Blank You Very Much

Busy Bee

These last couple of days have been super hectic, but completely wonderful as well. I've had so many awesome opportunities lately that I don't even know where to start!

I'm sure all of you know how much I love my school, but seriously, it's amazing.

On Saturday, I was asked by Autumn and Design Team to help with model prep for a fashion show. She told me to get to the school at 7am...on a Saturday...but I wanted to help, so I went. I didn't realize that I would be doing hair for real actual, paid, amazon models. For an actual designer.

Yeah, so cool.

These models walked in, and they were magazine, runway gorgeous. Like 6 feet tall, negative zero size babes. It was so much fun and just a really cool opportunity to broaden my horizons.

Later that same day, I got to be a model for our fashion show, which was also fun! I felt super inadequate after helping real models, but I stuffed myself with bagels and cream cheese, and reminded myself that food is better.

There's more.

Some of you in the hair industry know who Jason Reyes is, but for those who don't, I'll fill you in.

Jason Reyes is one of the best cutting specialists in the business. He is in the Paul Mitchell cutting dvds, a famous stage artist, going to be in a few Paul Mitchell commercials, and is also a phenomenal person all around.

I invite you to check him out on instagram @iliketocuthair and/or YouTube to see some of his work.

Today I had the privilege to take a cutting class at school with him. The class was only $150, and it all went to charity. What a great guy.

$150?? That sounds like a lot, Shea.

No. To put this into perspective, it normally costs upwards of $1000 for a 2 day class with him, so this was a crazy deal. Plus, he is amazing and totally worth the money.

Funny story...

Yesterday, Jason was at the school, and I was able to meet him then. I introduced myself, and told him how excited I was for his class. Me being who I am, having no filter on my mouth, told him to bring his "A" game...to which he replied, "Oh, I will."

I told my friends, and I don't think I will ever live that down...

I'm such a loser.

But the class was awesome. I learned so much, and yes, he did indeed brought his "A" game:)

-Blank You Very Much

Harmonica Madness

At work the other night, this sweet little old lady comes up to me at the front desk. I knew before she even started to speak that this was going to be interesting.

She was dressed for a fancy rodeo, or a rain storm...not really sure which one. Between her white cowboy hat and poncho, I was confused, and apparently so was she.

Being the gracious desk assistant that I am, I was up for the challenge. I asked her what she needed, and she proceeds to tell me a 10 minute story about a swimmer, or a Baptist preacher, or something of the sort. Again, I'm still not quite sure what's happening, or what she is even saying. I think she asked me to be praying for something, at one point, and of course I said I would. (How can you say no to that??)

So now I'm committed to be praying for...something. Not sure what, so I've been covering all the bases. Mostly for swimmers and Baptist preachers.

Then, if it couldn't get any weirder, she had a gold zipper pouch on the counter. As she is relaying whatever information she thinks I need to know, she starts to unzip the pouch.

I have no idea what was supposed to be in there, but she opened it, and said (the only part of the conversation I was able to actually comprehend), "This is the wrong one! These are my antique harmonicas!"

What...?

So after at least 10 minutes of this, she decides to go to the lobby, and a few minutes after that, I hear very loud, very annoying, very bad harmonica playing.

Her and her husband leave shortly after her "concert," and they both danced-yes danced-to their car.

I'm still not sure what happened, or why they were at the gym in the first place, but this stuff always seems to happen to me.

You can't make this stuff up, folks.

-Blank You Very Much

Cardinals...Take Two

Friends, family, people I don't know, welcome. Tonight's episode features another installment of Cardinal's concessions.

If you are here for more humorous, but terrifying accounts of the food service industry, turn back now, because we not only survived the day, but we owned it. We had our crap together this time!

Seriously, I was ringing people up, getting orders right, pouring some mean beers, and our new stand manager, Miss Sharon, loved us. She requested to have us with her every time.

Successful? Yes.

We also ended up raising about the same amount of money. AND we were at a smaller location! Boom. Killaaaas.

I think I'm too white to say that...

My team was once again amazing.  Except, this time, we knew what we were doing. I'm thinking about opening up my own concession stand. Actually, no. Scratch that. Bad idea.

Moving on.

This whole business is for fundraising, or as we more often call it, raising money for the puppies and the babies. So far, Paul Mitchell the school St. Louis alone has raised a little over $60,000. Yeah. That's a big deal. We are currently in the lead of all the other PM schools in the U.S, because basically, we rock. Go us!

Because I'm so passionate about what we are doing right now, I'm going to give you guys the opportunity to be passionate and give back as well. (I mean you know what we did at the last Cardinal's concessions! That's dedication.)

Go to www.wepay.com/donations/pmtsstl to give electronically! Every little bit helps!

Now that I'm done with my shameless plug, how have you been these last few days? You missed me?? I missed you too!! Let's never go that long without each other again.

Last night was the Paul Mitchell Prom! Since I never went to my own prom, I was so revved up to go to this one. My date was awesome. He was so sweet, and he even bought me a corsage!! *awwwww* We danced, we sang...it moved me, Bob. I had so much fun. Now I'm going to start crashing high school proms, because that sounds like a good idea.

Now after a 12+ hour day, I'm going to eat and then sleep. My life is so exciting.

Until next time...

-Blank You Very Much

It's a Twister, it's a Twister!! Auntie Em!!

Last night at my lovely place of work, the Jewish Community Center gym (no I'm not Jewish, nor have I ever been, or plan on being), we had a major storm pass through.

In any other part of the country, people would probably have run for cover, or at the very least, stopped working out. In the midwest, we either a) don't care, b) are crazy, c) have a death wish, or d) all the above, because guess what? After we made the announcement that the tornado sirens were going off, and everyone needed to go to the safe zone, these people were upset. Yes, you heard me right.  Upset that they couldn't work out during a tornado. Seriously.

First of all, who wants to work out so badly that they would risk bodily harm to get it done?? Not me, that's who. I usually find any excuse necessary to keep from sweating.  Such as, "Oh sorry, I just walked from my car, so I think I'm good." Or, "I would love to, but I have to do laundry. All my workout clothes are dirty...weird."

What's more bizarre, is that people continued to come to the gym. Like they looked outside, saw eminent danger, and decided it would be a great time to get their ab workout in.

I'm just as baffled as you are.

Also, gym members were calling in to check on their children, who they left at the gym during a tornado. I don't have children, but if I did, I'm 65% sure I wouldn't do that.

Okay, so maybe a tornado never actually hit us. But it very well could have, and then where would you be? Twice up the barrel, and once down the side, that's where. (Thanks, Eli.)

All I'm asking, friends, is possibly look at the forecast before heading to the gym, or anywhere else. This is what technology is for. That, and Facebook.

-Blank You Very Much

Tennis: Pure Evil

Back again, my pretties! I missed you since yesterday. I'm glad you decided to return after the nightmare of my last post. Another reason why I love you.

I also love sports. If you know me at all, this is my favorite time of year. March madness, my birthday, and Cardinal's baseball starts. Yes, I am still a fan even though they tried to kill me.

Sports are my livelihood. I play a few sports. Basketball I play for fun, and volleyball in middle school, high school, and college, which you know, and coached volleyball, which you also know.  What you may not know is that I'm not actually good at playing every sport. *Gasp* shocking I know, but alas, it's true. Golf, which technically isn't a sport (shut up), is stupid, so it doesn't matter if I can't "play" that.

Tennis, on the other hand, makes me want to cry. I love watching tennis; it absolutely fascinates me. This is also the only sport my family plays together. They always leave me out. Sad, yes, but this is my reality.

Okay maybe they do ask me to go, but I usually turn them down. I have to. I'm that bad. I've tried, but I'm so impatient that if I don't get it the first time, my mindset is essentially I never will. That pretty much goes for everything.

You can probably guess how big of a sore loser I am. It's pathetic.

The other day, I decided to try my hand at tennis again, thinking I could have magically aquired the skills overnight. It was a beautiful day, and I wanted to be outside. And yes, they asked me to go. Who am I to deny my family of my presence? (shut up) So I went.

Not one of my better ideas.

I honestly was doing better than expected at first. I even won a few matches. Probably out of pity, but who's keeping track? No one, because we don't play that way.

The decline was subtle, but it was there. I switched my brother rackets, so mostly I blame that. But I think the tennis gods were tired of watching my awkward dance moves after every point I won. Although it doesn't explain the terrible serves (one that if Tarah were a boy, she no longer would be), hitting the ball over the super high fence, on accident, believe it or not (my muscles are things of legends), and completely missing the ball with my racket. I think I yelled at my mom to "shut her face" once or twice because she was laughing at me. I'm embarrassed, but if I can't be truthful here, where can I? I don't have the money for therapy!! I'm a struggling student!!! *crying violently*

I told you I can't handle it. This is what happens. Tennis is just not for me. I will stick with what I know. I'm too competitive to play a sport competitively that I know I can't win. I get upset. I say things I don't mean. People get mad. Feelings get hurt. It's a vicious cycle.

Maybe one day, by osmosis, or magic, I will be able to play, but until then, I'll just watch. No feelings have to be hurt, Tarah's groin will still be intact, and I won't have to tell my mom to shut her face, unless, of course, she laughs at me again.

-Blank You Very Much

Cardinals Game Riot.

Wow. Wowie wow wow. I have no other words for yesterday. It was a strange, interesting, and back-breaking day. No, seriously, I need a super deep tissue massage.

My school, being the charitable establishment that it is, worked concessions at the lovely Busch Stadium for fundraising. Having always wanted to do this, I jumped right on board when my lovely learning leader-a.k.a teacher for you non-Paul Mitchell people-decided that we could raise some heavy cash for this. Little did I know what I was getting into.

First of all, I want to give a nice little shout out to all of you in the food service industry. None of you get the recognition you deserve. Thank you, a million times, thank you, especially those of you who do it with a smile. That takes a special kind of person. How you don't haul off and punch some of these jerks in the face is a mystery to me. I will be tipping for everything from now on.

A few weeks ago, we went to Cardinal concession training. They took us in this underground lair room under the stadium where they taught us...basically nothing helpful. Mostly how to push buttons on the register (which was totally self explanatory-push the hot dog button twice for 2 hot dogs ect.) and how important it was to card people under 30. Now, this was nothing close to real world situations. They didn't tell us how to prepare the food, what we would actually be doing, where anything was, how to freaking pour a beer (hardest thing I've ever had to do), and what to do when you are out of cheese, and people are yelling at you because you should have some cheese!!  And we had no chicken tenders, no cannelloni basket, (whatever that was), no lemonade,and no Coke Zero.....WHERE ARE ALL THE PRETZELS?!

Chaos. Utter chaos.

Plus the lines were 700 miles long. Every person in that stadium gravitated to our stand, which was great for fundraising, but terrible for us. Chickens with heads cut off about describes this scenario. Eric kept going on about how they "didn't prepare us," and "aren't they just setting us up for success" (sarcastically of course).

Barbara. Dear Barbara needs a paragraph dedicated just to her. She was the stand manager provided to us by the stadium. This woman was bipolar to say the least. At one point she would call me baby, and then give me this look that basically called me the biggest idiot known to man. We were all afraid of her, and would do everything in our power to stay away from her. But I love her. The stand was still standing *chuckle* and there were no casualties. I believe she saved our butts, and did it all without tearing her hair out. That takes a pretty strong lady, so Miss Barb, I owe you my gratitude.

You may be thinking, "Shea, it was only concessions, aren't you being a little over dramatic?" No. In fact, I'm watering this down a little so you won't openly weep for me. I don't want that. I want you to come back for more posts after this, not break you down into a puddle of tears. I'm already trying to erase that memory from my brain. Although, I have to do this 2 more times. I don't know if I will survive. Pray for me.

But of course, we all took it like champs. The owners of our school, Eric and Michelle, are saints. Or they should be. Did I miss that election? The voting of the saints? Anyway, they were simply amazing, and I have a new found respect for them.

The friends that were there with me, enduring the torture of those awful bowling shirt uniforms, and pretty much just surviving the night, I just love you guys. Aaron, Miranda, Chelsea, Ashley, Brittni, Angela, Lindsay, Chris, Eric, and Michelle. Bless you all. May the odds be ever in your favor. Now would one of you, please, please, get me some cheese!!

Adios, amigos.

-Blank You Very Much

I'll feed you, baby birds.

You may be asking yourself, "Shea, why did you decide to start a blog?" And to that, I say, "Good question! I'm glad you asked!" I wanted to do this as a web-journal, but mostly because I'm pretty self-centered and like to hear myself talk (or type...whatever). I occasionally think I'm witty and have interesting things to say, but we will see, in time, how "witty" I actually am. I may just be blowing smoke. Ask any of my ex boyfriends. They know all about this. I used to write them long winded letters. Could be why they are, indeed "ex's." Also, my essay skills are on point. Not saying I would write an essay for you for your honors English class....but I totally would. Just don't tell your mom. Then I would just have an angry parent on my hands, and who wants that? No one. But if I saved your English grade, and she would like to be eternally grateful to me, well who am I to refuse a woman her gratitude? That would be irresponsible of me.

Now where was I? Oh yes. Now if you did not ask that particular question, then I would be happy to answer another one. Yeah, you, with the face. No, the other one. Green shirt. Yes, you. What's your question, sir? You want to know if I like animals? Now what kind of dumb question is that?! Of course I like animals. Who doesn't? Not so much snakes or weird stuff like that, but normal animals like dogs, horses, and rabbits. I personally have 3 dogs, and they are just the most hilarious things ever; Rocky, Gypsy, and Kansas. I am one of those people whose baby-talk is reserved specifically for animals. I even talk to 9 month old babies like adults. This is not a joke. I don't want a kid growing up and talking like an idiot because I couldn't speak normally to it. Animals, on the other hand, will never speak, so who cares? I'll baby talk the crap outta them. No side effects to worry about.  Plus, let's be honest here, animals are cuter. Don't give me that look. You know they are.

I have a feeling I already lost all my followers, so just to clarify, no I don't think babies are ugly.

You didn't expect this post to go in this direction, did you. Yeah, I'm surprised too, but we will just let this go where it will.  High brow stuff, ladies and gentlemen. No rules!! Except maybe no swearing, or fighting, and don't litter. Okay, three rules, but other than that, no rules!!

Now if you weren't asking either of those questions, I'm sorry. Leave a comment, and I will answer to the best of my ability.

So I believe in my last post, I promised an embarrassing story. Well, I am all about keeping my promises, and I am about to come through for you.
Once upon a time, there was a young girl. Let's call her...May. May was swimming at her grandmother's house with her brothers and cousins. They were having a jolly good time splashing around and doing whatever it is that kids do in water. A little while later, some of her family shows up that May had never met before. One of them was a kid named Patrick. He was about the same age as May; 10 or 11.  They all became fast friends. May's brother decided that they should all have a "raft surfing" competition. What is that, you ask? Surfing...on rafts. Pretty self-explanatory. They had to get out of the water, run, jump onto the raft, and try to stay up the longest. On one go, May was about to take the leap, when she heard giggling behind her. The giggling turned into full blown laughter. She turns to see what the commotion is. They start pointing to her backside. Confused, May looked at her rear, and right down the center of her swim suit bottoms, was a large hole. Third cousin Patrick's face was bright red, and May's brother loudly shouted, "It looks like the moon!" Laughter ensued. May ran home, and wouldn't leave the house ever again-or until Patrick left. To this day, May can't speak to third cousin Patrick. Her shame is too great.

You may now be asking yourself, "Hmm...May and Shea sound very similar..." And to that, I say, "Yeah?! So?? Mind your own business!!"

Until next time...
Fin. (that's French for "end")

-Blank You Very Much

Here. We. Go.

*in very excited Paul Mitchell voice* Hey friends!!  I'm so excited you decided to join me on this adventure! *end voice*

If you are here because you genuinely are interested in my commentary, then welcome! If you are here because of boredom, well welcome to you, too! I don't discriminate (much, anyway).

As an introduction, if you don't already know me, my name is Shea. I am a cosmetology student at Paul Mitchell the school St Louis. It's a magical place where dreams come true, or more accurately, my last resort. Just kidding. I love my school. After years of searching, and terrible pressure by my parents (love you guys), I've finally found something I am truly passionate about. Definitely a nice feeling after floating around in limbo for so long.
I used to be a music major, and as much as I loved that, there are just no decent jobs out there for that. So that didn't last long. But yes, I still am a music snob, and I have a very wide range of musical interests. Currently, I'm really interested in Irish pub music and regge/blues. Very eclectic, but at least it's interesting (ahem, mainstream music-yeah I'm talking to you).

I was a volleyball coach for a freshman volleyball team. Since I played for 9 years, you would think coaching would come second nature. Alas, it was a little more difficult than I thought it would be, but yes, I did end up getting the hang of it, and it became one of the most rewarding experiences of my life. Those girls were so much fun, and I'm hoping to be able to coach again someday.

I have quite an extensive family. They are all amazing in their own way. Weird, but amazing. I'll talk more about them in later posts. There is not enough time in the day to give all of them their dues. There are some good stories, so be on the lookout.

I have some pretty amazing friends, as well. And all of them will get special shout-outs. (Now would be the time to send in your gifts, and money bribes to get some face time on this very exclusive blog...just saying.)

I'm sure there are more things to say about myself, but let's face it, that's not what you're interested in. you want the dirt on me; the crazy embarrassing stories; the exclusive look into my life. Trust me, it'll happen. This is just the first post. Give me some time! Geez, you guys.

Anyway, come back for more, and I promise to keep you entertained. Okay, I probably shouldn't promise that incase that's legally binding, or something crazy like that. I don't need a lawsuit on my hands. But I do promise to at least try, and that's the best I can do, so don't get all angry if I can't deliver. Rant over.

If you decided to read all this, bless your heart. I love that about you.

Enjoy, kiddos.

-Blank You Very Much