keep it dark (snidegrrl) wrote,
keep it dark
snidegrrl

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locks of fury, indeed

Friday night I went with zarobi to the Washington Home & Garden show. The date moved about ten thousand times but we finally nailed down that if we spent the entire drive down and back "in a meeting" then I could vacate the premises of work early and we could have plenty of time to look at spas and siding. But really! We did talk about work alot. It's always productive. I got alot of brochures but if plumbing related things keep going wrong with the house, I can't afford to deal with any of the "prettifying" things I want to do. Yeah, sometime this weekend I noticed a hairline crack about 12" lengthwise on a drain pipe. Not knowing what to do, I called fabulist and he rushed to my aid on his trusty bike and slapped on some JB Weld. Of course we can't ignore it forever. Other than that this weekend it snowed. Whup! You know what that means. Lots o' WoW. Last night we went to a restaurant that most people ignore (Pasta Nostra) and had noodles and watched Love, Actually. A cute enough movie. In parts it was soaked with "realism" and in parts fantasy. I think overall it couldn't beat 28 Days Later as a V-Day movie, for I will never forget that year. What goes more with love than paranoia?

Moving on, many of you have heard me whine at length about my hair saga. Some of you haven't. I'll try to keep it short and get right to the pictures. :) The place in in Annapolis, and is called Touch. (Website has music - good, not bad.) The hair guru is Thom, who also writes poetry (!). They have two huge dogs. It's a neat place inside, with old fashioned barber chairs and stuff. All in all, it's a nice place to get your hair done. Just be... incredibly explicit. :) They kindly redid my hair at no cost. (Which is good, considering how heartbroken I was at the extraordinary cost and deeply unfulfilling nature of my first visit.) My mom got me this for Christmas, and for that I thank her. Love you mom!


Hi, my name is Pouty McWebcam. This is what my hair looked like when we started. The old dye job had grown out 4-6 inches and you could hardly see the blond highlights. My eyebrows indicate my own indignation at hair boredom.


Oh, le snif! They have done nothing right! It is ... mousey with ... greyish streaks! Yet, behold, the magic of the flatiron hair torture device. Thom was very gracious about the idea of a thirty year old woman taking up drumming, but took a cue for "purple highlights" from my jacket here. What time was it? Crying time.


Like OMG! They fixed it! And the flatiron hair mistreater has worked doubly well!


I can't say the cats liked it so much, though.

Phew. I am glad that's over, and I can look in the mirror. Happily even.
Tags: hair, pics
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