Ruh-roh Raggy

So I need to quit it with my hair. It’s the third Tuesday in a row I’ve been to see my hair lady. (She’s not really a lady. She’s younger than me and says “totally” all the time and responds to everything I say as if it’s the craziest thing she’s ever heard. Even when I was just telling her about drinking too much wine on Friday night with K, she was like “No WAY! That’s so crazy.” I didn’t even tell her about the manhunt.com part. Love her though.)

Anyway, I had the hair cut, which I still kind of hate, even though I went back last week to have her shape it up a little more. And today was the dye job. Hair Lady has been wanting to cover my “brassy ends” for a year. So I finally let her. I used to be this. Now I’m this. And I have these red streaks in front. They’re really red. I’m gothy me and will have to wear make up everyday until the dark fades because my skin’s all ashy white.

I wish I’d never cut my hair. Or colored it. Dammit.

Doesn’t matter. I’m not dating. Angry Nun never sent me a picture. I mean, if you can’t fully disclose yourself, what the hell are you online for? Christ. And Midwestern Stock, who winked at me first — never heard from him after my email, which I think was totally clever and winning.

I even winked at this dude who has a damn bird (and I know this because one of his pictures was of him and the damn bird on his shoulder). Never heard back.

Normally I’d feel slighted and like “oh, what is so wrong with me?” Blah blah blah. I don’t care. Wanna know why? Because I just got my shoe shipment in. Three pairs. And two fit. They are sassy. Wanna see?

uh.

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and uh.

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