Thursday, June 24, 2004

Stuff 'n stuff

Alrighty then, this post is for Jack... the cooterless man.

Yeah, so... maybe I haven't been posting as much because it's been way too entertaining checking out other blogs. For instance, Jack and Tricia's escalating pimp fest over driving records cracks me up because of its enduring shelf life (and Jack, women really CAN drive... just not the one you chose to feature); the ongoing discussion at Jay's regarding his penis size and the debate over real or fake 'tiddies'; Kevin's usual humorous posts that spark some pretty crazy conversation (that tend to go off on little tangents); and if any of youse have not yet checked out BuggyDoo, doo doo doo so! And now, back to our regularly scheduled bitch fest:

Ok then. About two weeks ago I turned into persona intoxicata and whacked off my hair. Last week I ran into my hairdresser.

Her (lips pursed): So, Angie. What happened to your head?
Me (sheepish): Um, I got drunk... and got out the scissors...
Her (fluffling through my head like she's looking for lice): Well, call and make an appointment so I can fix this mess.
Me (docile): Ok. I'm sorry...
Her: In fact, we'll do it for free if you want to model {{this is their way of asking you to be a guinea pig}}. Ya want some highlights?
Me (hedging): Well...
Her: C'mon, they're free.
Me (cheap bitch that I am): Ok then.

Yesterday I had my hair done. Now, normally I love everything about the G Spot (yeah, that one, too, but this is the name of the salon), including the great cuts. And I don't know how they managed to take my whack job and turn it into something cute, but the highlights... well, they're something else. One color (they used three) was supposed to be a light warm red. Once I got out into the daylight and pulled out my compact, BAM! The shit is PINK!! I sincerely loathe, detest, despise, hate fucking HATE the color pink! I cannot stress this enough. Pink is for the devil. And now I have it on my head. Shit. It's too damn hot in Iowa to wear hats all summer, and I don't really want to go back and complain (it was *free* after all). Man. I'm stuck with pink fucking locks. Ain't nobody but Paul or Christa ever touchin' my noggin again!

hey ang!

okay, yeah, pink's not so bad, it could be worse! like green maybe? and since pink is a lighter colour, can't you buy some at home dye (like red maybe?) and dye over it?

I beg to differ... pink is as bad as it gets. Green is my favorite color. And trust me, an at-home dye job is not written in the stars for me. *Especially* after the scissors incident that nearly left me bald. I think this one I just have to suck up. Or buy more hats. **Waaaaa!!**
I have to ask, does the carpet match the drapes? Cause that'd be cool.
Hey there! Pink hair, not so bad, its kinda punk rock. But, I do hate when my hair gets fucked with. You can color over the pink yourself, but a red from the store, and do it at home. Cheaper, and usually good results.
Vgrrrl... I would be a little more daring with my hair if it was just the bar I worked at; but considering how I dress for my 'real' job, I'm not gonna push it with a hair thing. Even *I* can only get way with so much...

Pooter. Do the carpets match the drapes? To whit, my kitty is no calico.
If Paul and Christa can touch your noggin...why can't I touch your ears?
Because, dear Marco, NO ONE may touch my ears. Taboo, verboten, can't do it. Dem's my rules.
I touched your ears, and never even got bit. But I'll never do it again. I promise.
Was I passed out, in a coma, or calculating pi to the twenty-seventh decimal place at the time? You're a lucky man, is all I can say. Though I would never bite you, *mak*.
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
YO da pussy yo yo yo!!! Sorry, I had to delete it. Twenty-seven decimal points is more 'n enough. Don't need a jazillion. What would be the practical application... unless it has something to do with fluorescent spectroscopy? Oooga chaga... oooga chaga... I can't stop this feelin'... deep insiiide o' pi...
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