Suicide Blonde was the Color of Her Hair

Indeed it is.

I imagine Strawberry Blonde is more Suicide Blonde because the bit of red is so much more dramatic.

But yeah, I did it. I woke up very early on Sunday, excited like a kid on Christmas. I absolutely adore fucking with my hair. I got to my appointment way early and plopped down in the chair.

"So what do you want to do?"

"I'm getting over a bad situation and even worse boys and I need a change because it is the Year of the Fabulous. I want blonde and I don't care about length as long as it's not shaved or a mohawk, we're good. I wouldn't even mind the mohawk if I didn't work at a law firm, but I don't think they'd like it very much."

"I can do whatever I want? Cut whatever?"

"Cut whatever the hell you want. Cut the shit out of it. Have fun. I'm not picky."

She gets on it. It takes hours and hours. We couldn't get all the red out, so we had to make it a little strawberry. I go back in a few weeks and we're gonna put platinum streaks throughout this whole bitch. I told her how I need to look fabulous for Chris and Spring's wedding, keeping scant on the horrific particulars of that nightmare, but she caught the drift. Dear Lord, I love my friends and am so happy they're getting married, but if I could go FOREVER without having to see the groomsmen, I would be a happy girl, indeed.

"We'll do this in stages. And you're going to look like Marilyn Monroe and they're just gonna look like schmucks."

Perfectly stated, if I do say so myself for a lady who didn't know all the sordid details. While I was sitting there, feeling the bleach burn my scalp a bit, cleaning out the old and bringing on the fabulous, this song came on my iPod Billie and I have to say, it might be the perfect break-up song. It may have to go on my mix CD, but I already have another Heather Nova song that absolutely must stay on there, so I don't know. We'll see. But I heard that, and I would say, that and this song are amazing break up songs. Enjoy, all you little heartsick folk.

I met up with Sharon after for our bellydancing private class. She saw my hair and just burst out laughing (that sounds bad, but it was in an affirmative way--both of us had dyed our hair and we giggle like children at stuff like this--we had forgotten it had been a while since our last class, and our teacher barely recognized us--hee).

Sharon thinks it and therefore, I, look like Fay Wray. Here she is:



Give me a big gorilla and the Chrysler Building, and I should be all set.

In other news, Crush totally has me in the Friend Zone, but I guess it's fine. Probably best not to pursue anyway for a variety of different reasons. There's always Cute Bartender I can work on. But something needs to happen in my love life soon because I need to take my New Hair for a test drive. And I'm getting pretty bored with myself.

Also, I bought Chris and Spring their pool table as my wedding present. Don't worry. It was really cheap, about the amount I would spend getting them something from Bed, Bath, and BEYOND!!! [I always feel the need to emphasize the BEYOND part, like past the linens, they sell spaceships or something] It wasn't as hard to get up the stairs of their place as we had originally anticipated (or I had feared). But I was rocking some mean cramps on top of Tequila-After Brain and had to hobble home without enjoying it too much to lay down and take pills for the pain. Not to mention I had to head over to Neighbors to watch 24. Who loved the hair, by the by. Neighbor 2 literally said, "Holy shit, you look fabulous." Which is always nice to get.

And Dustin was in town. Hooray, Dustin! He had his grad audition for Columbia's directing program. He looks great, as always. We were silly, as always. And even he, the King of Non-Committing, managed to snag himself a hunky boyfriend. Damn it, everyone's hooking up like the Flood's coming but me. But at least he got to see New Hair. And I forget how much you can miss a character like Dustin. I want him to get in and come to New York. Mucho mucho. We'd tear this town apart at the seams. So I'm keeping my fingers crossed. Though of course, in true Dustin style, he corrected the grammar of Anne Bogart, the head of the grad program of Columbia. Of course he would. There's nothing Dustin and I love more than correcting grammar. We're nerds. Fabulous, fabulous nerds.

I think that's all the news that's fit to print. A very exciting weekend, indeed. I think the Year of the Fabulous is finally getting into its swing. Let's take it and ride, shall we?