Monday, January 29, 2007
or
Thank God I Own A Wig
In the depths of my depression, I made the typical compensation of drastically altering my hair color. My target hue: platinum blonde. Don't ask me why blonde, why now. Probably because it's the one shade I've never attempted to achieve, whether natural, unnatural, or otherwise. (Does anyone remember black-light reactive rainbow striped?)
Well, I fucked it up. 29745 applications (approximately) of built-up dayglo pigment turned all manner of crappy orange/mauve when I tried to remove them with bleach. So I double processed. Barbie pink resulted. So I processed a little more.
I finished with a head full of spider's silk the color of wilted lettuce. There's a few blue spots in there too. Don't ask.
FUCK. I'd post a pic, but I'm too ashamed.
My hair has never EVER looked this bad before. EVER. EV. ER. This is a major crisis for someone whose self-concept revolves around coiffure. My strands are so fucking damaged, I'll be lucky if they survive a good brushing, much less another color treatment. Fuck, fuck, FUCK!
In a fit of desperation, I popped over to Sally Beauty Supply and picked up three deep conditioners - a hot oil treatment, henna and placenta, and one named "Last Call: for battered and abused hair." I'd never tried the last one, but the package spoke to me. I also grabbed a package of L'oreal colorzap. It's supposed to remove artificial pigment without damaging hair (much) further. They say it's good for funky undertones and stuff.
I've got the "Last Call" on my head right now, under a plastic cap to keep it moist. Depending on what I end up with after rinsing, I'll either break out the colorzap, or put another treatment on. Probably the hot oil. Once the color zap has done its thing, I'll see what I end up with. If it's ugly yellow, I'll have to go back to Sally's and get some fucking toner, mix it with some diet coke, and drink a toast to the end of the world.
FUUUUUUCK.
UPDATE:
Although the color stripper didn't work for shit on my funky bleach job, I still managed to find a way out of hell. Red glaze. You know, the stuff I usually put on my flame red hair to keep the color in longer and make it shiny? Believe it or not, it actually turned my hair BLONDE. Champagne blonde. It erased the green tones, turned the blue to honey brown, and added some cute reddish tints to the white/lemon yellow. Seriously. It's not the cool platinum I originally wanted, but fuck it! I can dick with that later!
Finally, I have the courage to post a picture.
Saturday, January 20, 2007
or
Up All Night
When you work in a nightclub, you have to be prepared for anything. You work with, and for, all types of people - ex cons, rehabilitated junkies, single parents, transexuals, the occasional WASP working her way through college, illegal immigrants, what have you. We've all got something going on. We wouldn't work nights if we didn't. You learn to let steriotypes fly out the window. As long as everyone does their job correctly and keeps discrete, you learn to turn a blind eye.
In the locker room last night, I saw two girls huddling over the vanity. When one of them said "Oh shit, I spilled my cocaine!" I shouted back "We'll then you'd better clean it up fast!" and got back on the floor as quickly as possible.
Later, I teased her gently about the incident. You know, to show her that I was a cool chick and pretty much live and let live. "How much do you think that spill cost you?" I asked. "About three bucks," she said. "I ordered a case of them from California."
Boy did I feel like a dumbass.
You know, the funny thing is, this isn't even the first time I've been thrown by the name of an energy drink. A few months ago, a girl asked me for "Sum Poosie." I told her I at least need a dinner date first.
Monday, January 15, 2007
or
You Bought A What?
If there's one thing that capitalism has taught me, it's that when life hands you lemons, gentle readers, buy a sports car. Yup. That's right.
On impulse, I scooted down to the local carmax and snagged this 2001 mitsubishi eclipse GT. God only knows why I need fucking TURBO built in when I'm just gonna use it to get to work and back, but isn't she a beauty? You should see the leather interior! She's zippy as all hell, too. A real fun toy, any way you slice it.
Pretty crazy, huh? You haven't seen the half of it. Wait till I find a Latin Lover to go with it.
Sunday, January 07, 2007
I've become someone I don't like very much, gentle readers. I work all the time now. Morning, noon, night. Even on my days off, I constantly seek supplimental income to support my 3 person/1 income household. One husband, one roommate, and myself all live off of my earnings. I feel like a single mother.
It's pathetic. No longer do I have the time or mental energy for leasure. Aside from the occasional bout of drinking, I can't remember the last time I've allowed myself to relax.
And it is driving me crazy. I've turned into a heinous bitch most of the time. The worst part is, I don't see an end to it any time soon. No matter how hard I try, I can't get rid of my debt. I can scarcely make ends meet. No matter how much I beg for support, I always find myself carrying the financial burden.
I know my temperment is ill-suited for life and its many pressures, but something about the situation seems excessive. I can't stop fantasizing about suicide. Not that I actually want to die, but I do long for an irreversable and abrupt event to completely rearrange my existence and remove me from the current circumstances.
There is only one thing that would help, so don't bother yourselves trying to cheer me up. Find Zack a job, if anything.
