Can You Spell That Sound?

How do you spell the sound that people make once they've become completely and utterly exasperated with the world? And everyone in it? It's sort of like Ugh, but that doesn't quite do it. Maybe achugh? That's better, but still not quite it.

Anyway -- three days to go until my FLA trip. Which, as I should have fucking expected, is going to cost a teensy bit more than planned. Because now, despite our friends insistence to the contrary a mere couple of weeks ago before I bought our NON-REFUNDABLE plane tickets, we were told yesterday that our friends do not actually have a place for us to stay when we visit because they've turned their guest room into, well, not a guest room. OK -- that's not totally true -- we are welcome to stay at their place if one of us wants to sleep on the couch and the other on an air mattress. Oooh. Romantic. Just what I was hoping for. Goddess knows I love our friends but they are so fucking stupid sometimes. If they'd just decided to redecorate I'd have more understanding but they redecorated BEFORE they told us we could stay at their house, knowing the last time we were there we stayed in their GUEST ROOM!!!!!!! Achugh.

But -- like I said -- the plane tickets are non-refundable. And, I've already made a lame excuse for missing work a mere three weeks before vacation. So we're going. We're just staying in a hotel and spending about $500 more than we wanted to. Bastards. Achugh.

Which reminds me -- if you were a manicurist and I told you NOT to cut my nails, that I was trying to grow them out after they had been wrecked by a prior manicurist, would you then file them all the way down as if they had been cut? Would you? I would assume not. Which is why I was so utterly amazed to look down during my pre-Florida mani (and pedi of course) to see my beautiful on-their-way-to-being-long nails filed down to practically nubs. Which is prolly why the salon hung the monstrous Plasma over the manicure tables - to distract us from their idiocy. That'll teach me for watching a movie during a manicure. Achugh.

At least I have not suffered like my friend M. She's on her way to Korea tomorrow and so spent yesterday in the chair getting a cut & color. If she were me, she might ask -- if you were a stylist and I said I want highlights to my existing color, would you dye my hair a lovely shade of hooker bleach blonde (M.'s terminology, not mine)? Would you? I would assume not. But that's exactly what happened to M. As if she wasn't freaked out enough about her trip to begin with (which, to be fair, I can't blame her -- her boss is making her go to Korea for two weeks and yet she doesn't speak the language and will not have a host or guide of any kind. Nice, huh?). My boss may hate me, but at least he's not shipping me off to a country where I don't speak the language. And at least I didn't step out of the chair with hooker hair. But I do have nubs and my wallet is $500 lighter.

Achugh. Or whatever.