Dusty Monsters and Craven Hounds

20 Apr 2013 Leave a comment

by FilthyRotten in good eats, Hedgepenny's Buns., killing in the name of, or whatever, The things I do Tags: , ,

I’m always looking for something to keep me occupied. Paul accuses me of being unable to keep myself entertained… and to that I say: SHUT UP, PAUL, YOU DON’T KNOW ME! I DO WHAT I WANT!

So, another one of my um… attempts to keep myself entertained  boils down to putting myself through a liquid diet. I was thinking a juice fast but, gosh, I need more than just juice. I need things that taste like they died for me. Fruits and vegg just taste like smiles.

So tonight I started with a pear, orange, turnip and berry concoction that wasn’t too bad. I followed that with some bangin’ broth that Paul and I made. It was rendered chicken (rendered to the point that the bones because mush) combined with miso, dashi and whatever magic happens when Paul cooks.

On top of this I’ll be writing a lot more for Fleet, dedicating larger chunks of time for simply writing and not for work/writing.

We’ll see how it works out… I’m pretty stressed about the ‘CHANGE’ that’s coming up and I’m finding it harder and harder to focus on the little everyday things that I need to focus on, you know? Like if it doesn’t directly effect the BIG PICTURE then I don’t want to deal with it.

ALAS, that’s now how the real world works, now is it?

What!?

24 Jan 2013 Leave a comment

by FilthyRotten in 7 loves of 7 lives, in love on blogging, MDKs, On Love, or whatever

It’s been MONTHS since I last posted. Sheesh, I should be ashamed!

Another year under my belt… Soon to be celebrating 7 years with Paul (3 years married)… Paul will be celebrating his next birthday… he’ll be what… 12, 13? 25? I don’t recall.  XD

Reading back through some of my older blogs and I’m forced to laugh at my nonsense. I mean I’m not ashamed or anything, just… well… *shrug*

2012 was actually a good year, as far as years go… It pretty much flew by and I learned plenty. I mean, I did nothing BUT learn in 2012.

I’m married to the most outstanding man I’ve ever known. Ever. You’d think that after 7 years I’d be like: meh. But no, I’ve never met someone as giving, loving, fun, funny, steady, smart, reliable and GOOD as Paul. I’m not just saying this because I know he’s going to be reading this, either.

I am blessed to have him in my life. He deals with my insecurities, my insanity, my rage, my tears and always… always… he comes back with only love and support… and a few choice words if I’ve been a spectacular asshat. Sometimes I just watch him and wonder why, you know? Why does he stick around? I’m no prize, man. Whatever his reason (Stockholms, prolly) I am blessed and I adore him.

I have… how many kids, now? 4? 7? Oh, 3 I have 3 of the most infuriating children on the face of the Earth. I wouldn’t change them for anything.

Except maybe an island of my own. Maybe.

My oldest is just like me when I was his age. Whoops. I oscillate between wanting to throttle him and wanting to cheer him on. He’s weird, vulgar, funny and brilliant. And going through all the tough shit a 13 year old has to go through. I just want to shake him sometimes, shake him and hold him and protect him from himself.

But he’s too much like me… and he’s going to have to walk a really hard road before he figures out a few needful truths. I just hope he comes into his own before too long. My worst fear is that he’s going to rudderless, without direction… and he’s going to wallow when shit starts rising. I’m not the best parent, I make mistakes but I think the best thing I can do for Bryce or his siblings is to let them make their mistakes and be there to help them tend their wounds then support them when they get back on their feet and rejoin the fray.

My daughter is … wow. She’s talented and beautiful. She’s so much more than I was at her age. I was all geek all the time, but she’s… wow. I’m tough on her, though. She’s going to have a hard road ahead of her, too. Being a woman has never been easy. I want her to be able to rely on herself. Not some dude, not her beauty… herself. She has worth and value… she is more than the sum of her parts. My fear is that she’ll be crippled by self doubt or fall prey to society’s pitfalls where the only things that ‘matter’ are how pretty you are, how much money you make and what you’ve got between your legs.

I fear for my daughter. She’s got a good head on her shoulders, though. She’s ambitious and willing to do the grunt work to reach her goals… to a point, but then again she’s only 12. I don’t expect her to carve out a career… yet.

Then there’s Keegan.

What can I say about him? He’s 5 going on 6 and he’s so much fun. He’s a mirror of his father. Caring and gentle, fun and imaginative… and weird. Yeah, my baby boy is a weirdo. I love it. When people are down he tries to pick them up. He only wants to be friends with everyone he sees but he takes it to heart when people don’t feel the same way. He’s pretty fearless when it comes down to it. He’s my knight, my jester, my little curly haired dinosaur. It makes me happiest when he sees me after a long day at school and shouts “MOOOM!”  before running to me with arms wide open.

Like I said, I’m not the best parent out there… but I’m the best parent I can be. I screw up and blunder and I realize that. Nonetheless, I get told that I’ve got great kids …but …I don’t agree.

I’ve got fucking AWESOME kids.

 

Hippity Hop

24 May 2012 Leave a comment

by FilthyRotten in ...and writing!, 7 loves of 7 lives, MDKs, or whatever, rent-ovations

Goddamn…I’ve gone most of this year without a real post!

Forgive me, forgive me do.

So far this year has been very … Interesting to say the least. We are of course… moving again! HUZZAH…no, wait, we didn’t WANT TO move again.

Damn.

I now have 2 middle schoolers and 1 elementary school student. The time has just flown by. You know, when I started this blog I was living in the basement of my aunt’s house… Bre was in pre-k and Bboy was in kindergarten…  nothing seemed certain and I was pretty angry about it all.

And now…

I’m not so angry. LOL

Writing on Eternal California and Fleet is going wonderfully, I mean… the vibe between Angeline and myself is awesome. Inspiration hasn’t dried up for Fleet yet and while it’s a difficult piece to write I have an amazing support team behind me.

I don’t know… there are a million things I could say but I’m going to keep it simple and write more often. Sorry about that!

Oh!

PS

A couple poems of mine are going to be published in a compilation! GO GO TEAM!

This time I’ll be bulletproof.

30 Apr 2011 Leave a comment

by FilthyRotten in bully, Clutter, MDKs, or whatever

You know those moments when you just HAVE to write  no matter how embarrassing or disjointed or scattered?

This isn’t one of those times.

Last time I spoke to the X for the first time in years… five years to be exact and I’m really impressed by the fact that it didn’t turn into a screaming match. The thing is I’ve always been quicker to be vicious than I have to be kind.

Naturally.

But I found myself saying to him that I’m sorry that he’s going through such trying time… mind you, I added the caveat that he’s the one who got himself into those situations… but I’m sorry he got himself there.

We were talking b/c he wanted a form from me saying that I won’t take away his rights to talk to the kids… in return for the permission that he granted me to change the kids last names.

Frank and honest I’m not going to be forced into signing anything. He’s spoken to B/BB once in 5 years and he has no right to make demands of me. Period.

I’m not upset or anything, more bemused. This is typical of his behavior. So is his attempts to garner sympathy from me. He asked for my help with getting the kids to accept his meager overtures and I said no. He sinks or swims on his own.

Because I’ve had to answer for him ENOUGH in this life. I’m not going to volunteer to do it more. I’m no fool.

He also told me I could call when ever I wanted to…I told him that I wouldn’t, but I’ll tell the kids that they’re free to call when they’d like. He seemed kinda out of sorts about that. He doesn’t seem to realize that I just don’t like him. I pointed out that he did me dirty and that as far as I’m concerned he’s a ‘bad man’ and that I’d rather not have my kids associate with him b/c I don’t know who he’s become in these years.

And I don’t want to know what sort of man he’s become. I will keep a close eye on his involvement with the kids, of course, and I’ll pull the plug when/if I think that he’s a bad influence but I think I’ll have to trust B/BB to be able to at least know that after ALL THE TALKING that we’ve done that their father isn’t the best role model.

Here’s to hoping.

NOT a con report. Read it, anyway.

26 Mar 2011 1 Comment

by FilthyRotten in buffoons are not like baboons, bully, Clutter, or whatever, Que for the Anger

Or:

How YOU Can Pull Your Head Out of Your Ass and Still Have Fun

I’m writing this not just a con goer but as a con staffer (at several conventions, mind you) and NOT as anything official for the convention that I just recently staffed.

One of the things I’ve noticed in these past few years is that when people go to a convention be it anime, furry or sci-fi they tend to let loose, which is good and awesome. You’re among friends and there are tons of people to meet and there’s lots and lots of alcohol, sugar and uh, high spirits.

Letting loose is good. Being a douchebag is not.

I’m not talking about just being loud and obnoxious. Hell that’s me on any given Sunday (or Monday or Tuesday…) I’m talking about:

wrecking the hotel rooms (you ain’t a rockstar, bitch, calm the fuck down),befouling the elevators, drawing on walls, throwing things down elevator shafts, stealing, running down hotel hallways while screaming at 4 in the fucking morning, leaving piles of trash in the con space, being rude to hotel staff, NOT TAKING A FUCKING SHOWER, smoking in nonsmoking areas, causing scenes, fighting, screaming and cussing in front of the hotel, breaking stuff, not paying for stuff, and generally acting like a degenerate.

These things are the reason why the people who run the conventions find it harder and harder to not only find a space willing to host the event, but to find a space that will host the event AT A REASONABLE COST.

I’m not saying that you’re force to be on your best behavior but don’t be a dick and don’t fuck up shit for everyone else.

Running and staffing a convention is hard. Every year at EVERY CONVENTION that I’ve worked at there are medical emergencies, catastrophes, and events that happen that no one has control over… now add that to the regular attendees acting like fucking maniacs and you have a situation that quickly spirals out of control.

The true downer is that IT DOESN’T TAKE MANY PEOPLE TO FUCK UP THE EXPERIENCE FOR EVERYONE! One doucher that thinks it’d be a good idea to bang on doors @ 4 am while running up and down hallways causes HOURS and HOURS of headache for the people who run the con as all of those people complain to the hotel staff, the con staff, God, their parents, their friends about how horrible the attendees at X convention are.

The hotel loses money and starts looking at the con and the 98% of people who AREN’T being jerks as the reason behind it.

Now, remember, I’m not talking about just one particular con that I staff. Nor am I talking about one particular instance. Honest.

Just next time you think it’s a good idea to run amok really think about the consequences of your actions.

This has been your FilthyRotten PSA

Ethos

03 Jan 2011 2 Comments

by FilthyRotten in 7 loves of 7 lives, bully, Clutter, Faith, or whatever

Ethos: characteristic manner or spirit, either of a community, or individual. This is a word that indicates a certain “attitude” or sense of comportment towards others, and generally asosciated with questions of character or moral selfhood, where character or moral selfhood disclose a bond with others. {from}

I often refrain from blogging because I fear to hurt people’s feelings by posting my thoughts on one topic or another. I wonder though, how is that helping any damn thing? It Ain’t. That’s for damn sure.

I wonder if, as a society, we’re just too afraid of hurting other people’s feelings. Why? Because we’ll be seen as the bad guy? Because we’ll be seen as some sort of monster who doesn’t care about other people? Because they’ll sue us?

I’ve never been that much of a monster. I’ve believed in speaking my mind… even when it meant I’ll end up getting my ass kicked, becoming a social pariah, losing friends and lovers and the whole dramatic she-bang.

Who will I be true to, if not to myself? Does this make me selfish? I’m not rampaging around and smashing down the walls of people’s fragile mental walls… but I’ll tell you when you’ve fucked up and why I’m not going to deal with it.

I’ve had to fight, argue, cuss, and cut my way through a shit ton of situations (most that I’ve put myself into) and I know that it’s made me hard.  I take this into consideration when dealing with people. Sometimes.

I don’t bother explaining my choices if I don’t believe you deserve an explanation but I will handle you with kid gloves if I think you’re too frail to deal with me at my worst… to a point.

There comes a point when we, each and every one of us, has to just fucking grow up. Toughen up. Grow a pair. Fight back.

For every aspect of you, who you are, what you do, what you won’t do, what you believe, who you believe in, what you don’t believe, how you believe, how you walk, talk, pray, laugh, sing, FOR EVERY ASPECT OF WHO YOU ARE there will be 100 people who will hate you for it.

No matter who you are.

It baffles me, but it’s the truth. We’re cruel creatures, humans. We shouldn’t have to apologize for every inch of ourselves but we often find ourselves doing just that.

I’m sorry I’m not tall enough, skinny enough, funny enough, cute enough, ugly enough, fast enough, slow enough, pious enough, crafty enough, useful enough… for you.

And who are you? My boss, my parents, my peers, strangers in the street, people I’ll never meet…

And why do you matter? Because you sign my checks, because if you don’t approve you won’t love me, like me, be with me, have sex with me, laugh with me…

For every 100 people out there who will hate you for being you, there are at least 50 people out there who will give you a chance and at least 20 of those people will be your friends unconditionally… and of those people there will be 1 out of 100 who will love you IN SPITE OF YOURSELF. And what more can you really ask for?

You’re never gonna be prefect for everyone, and attempting to be perfect for everyone for every thing and for every moment is exhausting.

And who will you become? An automation with no soul, no heart, no happiness.

I’m not saying to please yourself without caring for anyone else I’m saying be that one person for everyone else. Love unconditionally and when people are just jackasses to you, let it roll off.

I’m saying that no one’s opinion of you matters enough for you to change who you really are. Change because you need to change. Change because you’re hurting people, change because you’re fed up with your life being the way it is. Don’t change because so and so says they’ll love you more if you’re skinner, sweeter, meaner, richer.

Change for you. And if you believe in God…. change for God.

In the end that’s all that matters- When the end comes and the last strains of music are playing who judges you? God, children, lemurs? You will be held accountable for your actions and if you changed who you are for Susie then do you think God or lemurs will look to Susie and say “what have you done?”

No.

Do what you will and harm none, as the adage goes.

There will be people who don’t like you no matter what you do.

You will lose friends no matter what you do.

You will disappoint people no matter what you do.

Knowing this… keep trying, if that’s what you want to do. But if you’re losing each and every time take a moment to step back and figure out what the hell matters to you more. Your happiness or someone elses? While you’re banging your head and screaming and crying about how to please them… do you think they’re losing sleep on you?

No.

[sigh] I live my life within rules and reasons. I’m a Christian but I’m not a door mat. I turn the other cheek but I’ll kick your ass the second you go too far. I have faith that God won’t let anything happen to me that I can’t handle. I also have the knowledge that if I get myself into a sticky situation that the All Father expects me to get myself out of it. I’m honest, I speak my mind, I try my damndest to not hurt people out of cruelty but I know there are times when the truth is nothing other than painful.I try to be a good person but I have oh so many bad qualities.

I think that’s a part of being all growed up.

Knowing where you’re failings are and knowing where you fit in to the world.

 

Productive Procrastination

10 Oct 2010 1 Comment

by FilthyRotten in or whatever, The things I do, Time Eaters

Very unproductive day.

I haven’t written or edited anything nor have I even TOUCHED an inch of yarn. I did, however, churn 2 pounds of butter and fiddle with the aqua-ponic garden and water a plant.

Go, me!

I still haven’t figured out what coop I want for the chickens… when they’re old enough to go a’cluckin’ in the great outdoors… BUT I do know that I want blue berry bushes growing along outside of the coop. And possibly passion flowers. Or morning glorys.

Last night, before Saturday Night Ninja Fight Movie Night happened, I set up my fishtank aqua garden and placed a few of the plants that I had on the porch in it… just to see how it works out.

So far, so good… though I’m worried about the bin thing that the plants are in, I think the water is too heavy and it’s going to eventually crack the bin where the bin overhangs the table.

Cross that bridge …

I’ve cut the rabbit’s wool down very close to her body…or as close as I could get. She’s too freaking aggressive and doesn’t enjoy being groomed at all. I haven’t gotten bitten or scratched in a while…but that doesn’t mean she’s not hiding a gun in all that wool!

The stray cat we took on, Ferris, still hasn’t had her kittens… I’m starting to believe that she’s not pregnant at all.  Going to give her another three weeks and see, but the earliest I can get her in to the vet is Dec. 15th. If she turns out to not be pregnant, then I’ll go ahead and place her into her new home.

I might take on another foster after her, we’ll see.

I finally received the title for my Jeep, thank god. New tags happen next freaking week!!

I got the teddy bear eyes in the mail the other day, now my knit creations can have eyeballs! yes! EYEBALLS1! So that when I create them and they look all DERPY and retarded they can stare at me accusingly.

I have 4 scarves still left to create… I think one will be an octopus. We will see.

The kids are all bonkers. All. Bonkers.

oh, and by the way happy X/X/X

Deep Tetris Thoughts

07 Oct 2010 Leave a comment

by FilthyRotten in 7 loves of 7 lives, Clutter, Hedgepenny's Buns., or whatever, The things I do, Time Eaters

It’s apparently when I’m doing the most mindless of tasks that I’m whisked away into “lets think about shit that’s happened months ago!’ mode.

[sigh]

Romantic Comedies.

Yeah, they’re what I’ve been pondering so deeply. There is a certain kind of person that can take any enjoyment from a movie cast with extremely attractive unattractive people, splattered throughout with a lukewarm chemistry and backed by a bland, thoughtless dialog.

I forget what was the last one I watched, but it had the Jessica chick from Sex and the City… the director tried very hard to make this woman backward and socially stagnant… then tried to make the main man’s older sister’s hate of the Jessica chick believable. AND the strange thing is …the brother never defended his girlfriend against these attacks by the sister and his mother.

I think that level of petty hate would only be easy to swallow if the sister had some sort of mad lust for the brother.

NOW THAT WOULD HAVE MADE A FILM!

Like, the family is all laughs and giggles about “OH HO SHE SURE PISSED OFF THAT JESSICA CHICK FROM SEX AND THE CITY!” but then slowly began to realise that big sister has hated ALL of brothers girlfriends…FOR NO REASON, then they get the silent stares going around the dinner table and big sister makes a comment about how FANCY brother looks in his new dockers. But big brother is having none of that because he’s in love with the chick that had sex with all of new york.

That movie, I would watch.

But the movie that was actually playing? Whatever, I took that one out and watched Terminator instead.

At least Terminator had a more palatable plot.

I just used quite a few indefinite articles in that last rant.

So, I never talk about my personal health in this blog, you’d think I would, what with me talking about every thing else under the sun.

I’m not gonna start now, people, just look away.

I am gonna talk about…CHICKENS

yes, chickens.

This friday I’m putting in my order for 25 large meat and heavy egg laying birds. I’m sharing this order with my sister in law and her boyfriend. (They’re getting 5 of the roasting birds and 8 months of all you can eat eggs.) I now need to build a coop, granted…the birds don’t ship until November 16th but the 4 months that they’re growing from chicks to pullets goes by in an instant and 25 birds gets to be a lot really fast.

We’re really thinking about going as green as possible, so that we have to rely on the grocery store as little as possible. I want to really get better at canning. I canned some yellow watermelon jelly last weekend that I HOPE turns out, I was very imprecise about the measurements. It might be KILLER SWEET or spoiled.

We’ll find out!

I may be canning pears next…if not pears then I’m going to make peach preserves or maybe black berry jam.

mmm…

We have to get with someone who does gardening, I’ll trade whatever I garden/eggs/preserves and soft cheese (if I get back into making it) for fruits/veggies.

We’ll also have to find someone willing to go in with us on processing a calf… shouldn’t be hard. The company we went with last time wasn’t TOO bad, I just didn’t like the cube steaks or the grade of ground beef.  I would want large cuts of roasts that I can either grind myself or cut down into steaks.

Paul and I are going to buy a young pig very soon to home butcher… that and the chickens and the beef we should be covered as far as meats go…though we’ll need a smoker to make bacon… or I’ll just go back to the farmers market in Dekalb and get the applewood smoked bacon from there… so. very. fucking. good.

This neighborhood we now live in is very into the whole organic movement, there’s a farmers market that the community uses pretty exclusively and I might end up buying a booth there a few weekends… depending on if I can’t get rid of 280 eggs a month to family, friends and by selling them @ $2 a dozen.

Lets hope I can BECAUSE as soon as I’m able to, I’m going to be buying a couple Americanas… the Easter egg laying birds… they lay eggs in shades of taupe to blue or even green.

They also have a strange black meat…so I probably won’t be eating THOSE birds. [shivers]

I really need to map out my days…

I have so many different projects that I need to do/am doing that I fear that some of them are gonna fall through the cracks or that I won’t have the energy to deal with them everyday and they’ll just get pushed to the side and slowly begin to overflow.

Like my Etsy shop… I’ve let that go to the way side b/c I’ve not really been working on anything worth selling. Which is a pity because the shop has been a great way of making a little extra money on the side.

That said, I need to finally publish my ad for raw angora fiber… Which is another project that I’ve been letting lapse. harvesting the wool from my rabbit.

[shakes head] whew. I need a personal assistant…or at least a dayplanner.

 

From 750 Words

05 Mar 2010 1 Comment

by FilthyRotten in ...and writing!, Faith, in a Blue October kind of mood, in love on blogging, MDKs, On Love, or whatever, Que for the Anger, The things I do

So just write, about whatever?
Write here while my blog languishes? [sigh]
okay, here goes.
Today I feel like a douche. I cut myself off from my family because I just couldn’t take being treated like a second class citizen any more. I just couldn’t take the constant drama and the assumption that everything I do is wrong. I couldn’t take the added guilt of my aunt nor the nuttiness of my mother. I just couldn’t do it.
Now, I feel like a loser, wondering why and what and how I got to this level. What tiny thing snapped the camels back that I should ditch an older, terminally ill woman and my brass nuts crazy mother?
And it goes back to all the times in all these years that I’ve felt so damn impotent and enraged. But who has the perfect family? Not I. Not you.
Is cutting them off the right answer? I mean where do I go from here? Will my own kids cut me off if I’m too much of a burden or too demanding or if I too go fucking brass balls crazy? (Because I don’t think my mother was always like she is, maybe I drove her to it, maybe she got hold of some bad weed…)
But I can’t balance my aunt’s financial problems and neediness, my mother’s constant flipping from abuse to disregard that tainted love she’s always doling out. That awkward affection that is so brittle and so easily turned into rage.
I can’t balance that with my husband, treating him like a real human…like a man with his own insecurities, passions, adoration, quirks… I can’t balance it with my kids 3 doses of COMPLETELY UNIQUE INDIVIDUALS who need me in their own special way… I can’t balance that with my own health problems, my own lack of ambition. my own self loathing, my own needs.
Sometimes I feel like I’m drowning in it. And I lock myself away. And I watch my own awkward shows of affection became …not rage but stilted silence. I’m so much like my mother it fucking scares the shit out of me. I’ll catch my reflection and something wells up inside of me. It’s fear and loathing and distaste and shame.
I see her in me and think that I’ve failed.
I couldn’t save her, I can’t save me. From what? I don’t know. I just want something other than how I feel about her.
I mean I can’t spend 40 minutes in her company without wanting to rage and beat my fists against something.
And I can’t let it go.
No matter how hard I try I just can’t forgive her for everything. Not when every day goes by and she just keeps doing the same thing over and over and I just have to forgive every single time.
And feel guilty for the anger I feel.
You can’t blame a cat for being a cat I told myself. Over and over and over again.
But there comes a point when you’re just fucking sick of being scratched.
I don’t know if I can do this every day.
3 pages of confession.
It makes me think of the early days of my first blog. I would just pour my self out and it felt great.
To just dump my burdens on something else for a while. Granted it didn’t solve my problems and this won’t eighter. It’s liekly to MAKE problems before it solves anything but it’s the same feeling of just emptying myself.
I’ve missed this.
I don’t have anyone to talk to not really, not anyone I trust enough to confess to. There was something soothing about the anonymous Internets. but now I’ve exposed myself on my blog. Everyone knows who I am and I don’t know how to retract it. Like a vampire I can’t tell people that I’ve revoked them.
I wish I so could. That would be amazing.
So, as I write this I know I’m going to post it to my blog. Or at least portions of it, because, I mean damn…
I’m so flaky.
But my blog has become like a … a monster that sits hungry and expectant. and I have to fill it with words and emotions. And to tell you the truth the past few years have been so damn wasted with my blog.
No real posts or content, nothing but mindlessness.
I’ll rectify that somehow. Rent a life or something.
Oh look. 752 words. Bing.

You’ve got to get up.

21 Feb 2010 Leave a comment

by FilthyRotten in buffoons are not like baboons, or whatever, Que for the Anger, The things I do

I have a strange bruise/lump on my shin that’s not faded or gone away at all in quite a few weeks.

I noticed last night that it has changed shape and size and …well, I’m scared. I keep thinking to Doris the Tewwible and her amputated leg and I just want to scream. What if it happens to me? I’m no good at walking half the time, hobbling is just not in the cards for me!

So to the Doctor’s I will go.

Even though I’m convinced that EVERY TIME you visit a DR he’s just trying to find new and expensive ways to tell you that you’re dying of something vicious and rare that you could have TOTALLY avoided if only you’d come to him (or her) earlier. Oh, what? No health insurance? Sry. Your healthcare is in another country.

In other news-

I got an accidentally adult hairstyle.

Not adult as in boomchickawowow, but adult as in “Should I go ahead and invest in that ROTH?” or “What’s the overall return on that IRA?”

Funny how Thirty snuck up and sucker punched me in the responsibilities. Because that ROTH? It are mine. And I know what the return is gonna be.

But no,

I went to the salon (even though I hate salons and all those smarmasours) and the guy was all like “OMGWTF!?” when I told him I wanted it purple. He was like “well I have a rinse…” and I was all like “GROW SOME BALLS PANSY!!” and told him to bleach it and gimme some REAL COLOR, BITCH!

So first he over processed my hair. I should have known I was in trouble when he started putting bleach on my hair and using those metal papers? Like my hair was tasty left overs smeared with a whitening agent.

And boy howdy… white it was! On the right side he’d lightened my hair so much that it was a sickly yellow white while every where else was ranged in the Brass to Copper stages of OVER FUCKING PROCESSED!!

And yeah, the white fell out. I was all like, dude, you done fucked up. and he was all like. OMGWTF…UH…IT FELL OUT CUZ IT’S WET LOL.

So then he puts the dye in.

What a loser. First it’s blue dye he put in. Second it’s a DARK BLUE as in BLUE WITH A BLACK BASE. So I have black hair…well black with blue highlights save for the places where it’s kinda grayish blue looking.

[facepalm] so he’s all like UM. NOT WHAT YOU WANTED? LOL?

But, I like the cut, it’s more businessy and maybe my boss won’t be all “OMG, YOUR HAIR! LAWL!”

[sigh]

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