May 2
Hair Today...(woah, this joke works as Hair AND Hare, unfortunately)
Tonight, o joy, I am cutting my hair. I'm getting rid of the scraggly, mullety long part in the back. I am doing this in with the intention of someday having hair that's pretty much all one length again. When I see photos of myself with the long hair that I HATED at the time, it makes me sad. Now I want it back. Really, I am never satisfied. But, heed my advice, you out there, with the big bowl of hot henna all ready to go: It will not make a big difference, and you CAN NOT DYE OVER IT. Hear me? Your hair will smell like dirt, it will look EXACTLY THE SAME, and you CAN NOT CHANGE IT UNTIL IT WEARS OUT. You remember when you were like 15 or whatever and you decided that Sun In was the way to go? And remember how you couldn't wait to leave the store, you just sprayed it in RIGHT THERE, knowing that during your sunny walk home, it would lighten, and by the time you arrived at your doorstep, you'd have vibrant blonde streaks? Remember that? And remember how, even if you wanted it not to, it would lighten the fuck out of your hair?
It is no match for Henna. Hennaed hair can not be Sun-Inned. Learn from my mistakes, my friends. Henna is not change-friendly. So, when your roots start growing in? Be prepared to love them with all of your heart, or get out the little brush and the half bottle of dye and take care of them as they grow in. Henna. What a rip.
Gone Tomorrow...
Being without a rabbit is freaking me out a little, I have to confess. I am hearing ghost rabbit sounds from the cage (which I haven't put away because I want another rabbit. I'm all about getting back on the saddle). Seriously. I hear hopping, and I'll look over and there's nothing, obviously, but an empty cage. I am much better about the whole thing now, but I was really awful during and immediately after. My poor little bun. As I'd written about rabbits, their personalities are often a crap shoot. When you get one, you often can not tell if they're going to be unfriendly or high strung. Anyway, I'm not going to go into any lengthy stories about rabbits. I loved Celeste, and I'd like my next rabbit(s?!) to have a similar personality. If not, it had better be really cute. Take Pete, for example:
I've always wanted a white rabbit with blue eyes. Not that I'm going to drive to New Jersey to take this one from the pound, I'm just saying. What? I'm NOT going to drive to New Jersey. No, I'm not. Plenty of rabbits right here in Connecticut. One of them has to be the one I'm after.
Lastly:
Ball Show continues to be a lurking, short shorts freak at the gym, but on Monday, there was someone worse. A man, in baggy jeans and a white wifebeater, big old muscular arms walked past me. Steve said hello, they shook hands. I smiled at him, because I am swell and friendly. Then, do you know what I noticed? Do you? Go on, guess. Right. He had TITS. The guy had A RACK. When he walked past, I turned to Steve and reported my findings. "DUDE!! HE HAD BIG OLD TITTIES!!" Steve nodded sadly and said "I think he had a failed pec implant." I snorted "Or he's taking boob-growing hormones."
For the rest of our session, I was USELESS. I kept seeking him out and watching as he lifted weights. "Look! Look at 'em! They don't move when he does squats!!" "Do you think he has a bra? I mean, they're big enough*, but they don't seem to move the way normal boobs do! Dude! If I did lunges, there'd be some sway!"
Some day, Steve is going to get sick of my talking about everyone at the gym, I'm sure, but it's worth noting that he tells me all about which guy is hung and which guy is not so hung, and who looks like the star of his "Anatomy Movies", so it's a fair trade. Really.
*In all honesty? This guy's got to be a C cup. A small C cup, like a 34 C, but still and all. It's a GUY. With TITS. Are they bitch tits? I can not say.
the other day - home - email - tomorrow