So I went and splurged on my head. I have disgustingly thick hair and therefore going to the hair salon costs me a small fortune as my hair soaks up dye like a mop. When most girls have the little tray of colour made up for their foils, my hair dresser goes back to mix more up like 5 times. I was feel so sorry for them. Their skinny little arms folding foil madly, their aching back from standing over me for a good 3 and half hours…its hard work being my hairdresser. They need not go to the gym as blow drying my mass of mess rewards them with biceps to rival Madonna’s.

As you can imagine, for me, the experience is not the most pleasant. My head is pulled and scraped in every which way possible while my eyes are so watered by the end of it that I resemble a raccoon on speed. Its always worth it in the end because I do get that “just stepped out of the salon and I am oh so fabulous” Fructus ad feeling, always soon to be overshadowed by the “how long can i not wash my hair to keep the straightness without bordering on the homeless look”. No wonder African American women don’t swim. That’s what Oprah said anyway.

So yes, I’m blonde again, let the jokes roll on in. Scarily, the scatterbrainedness hath nothing to do with the colour of my hair.

I’m on VIRB now. I’ll use it for the same reason I have a myspace account…photography. Its a lot prettier and easier to navigate than myspace. Check it out and add me as a friend.