November 4

What you see if I turn the cam away from me just a smidge to the right. And I didn't even have to gather them together. They were just sitting there, kind of hanging out with me.

 

 

From my last entry, I got sort of a mixed bag of emails. Mostly, they were supportive and kind, but a few were along the line of "So, you think YOU have it bad? Well, listen to how bad I've got it sister, and quit your whining" I appreciate all emails, I seriously do. I don't get a ton and it's nice to hear that you're still reading and still like me and whatnot. Anyhow, I'm not so cocky to think that I'm going through anything new or particularly special, but it's mine and I'm dealing with it. Lots of people have things way way worse. There you go.

On a page related note, I'm curious as to who out there is reading my page through an anonymizer. I mean, seriously. It's not like you're surfing porn at work, so I can't imagine why you'd need to hit my page anonymously. I don't check my stats religiously, but every time I have over the past few weeks, there's been a hit from the same anonomyzing (huh?) site. I'm to lazy to go check what it is right now, but listen here, whoever you are. Quit it. It's creepy. Either read my page like a normal person and not like a stalker, or stop. If there's some reason you don't want me to know who you are, perhaps you need to examine what's driving you to go through all the efforts to maintain your secrecy. Have you wronged me in some way? Why the cloak and dagger act? Step into the light.

Okay, now that that's out of the way, I'll begin the normal entry.

First of all, I'm sure you all remember how about a year and a half ago I went to this psycho midget woman with missing fingers to have a weave put in my hair. You remember, right? RIGHT? I'm also pretty sure I mentioned that I am not at all gentle or girly with things like CLOTHES or MAKEUP or HAIR and I'm a spazz and eventually, since I never went to have the weave taken care of or whatever it was they needed to do with it, it ended up looking like I had a conjoined twin made entirely of matted hair up on top. Anyhoo, alopecia is very much a stress related condition*** and as I've mentioned, the past few months (okay, year. The whole year has been a disaster) have been really tough for me, so my hair fell out. A lot of my hair fell out. In inopportune places (side bar: why does my arm hair never fall out? Or my pubic hair? WHY?) and I decided that it might be time to maybe seek a professional, um, hairmaker, to give me more. I first called Lucinda, even after my vow that I'd never step foot in her wacky shack again. I made an appointment for tomorrow morning at 9 and everything, but then I found another place.

(***So the last time I went to the dermatologist to get my head needles [yeah, that's right, I get injections IN MY SCALP. And not just one or two, but 20 or 30. ONCE EVERY SIX WEEKS.Am I allowed to feel a little sorry for myself now? SCALP INJECTIONS FOR MY HAIR THAT FALLS OUT!!!] he asked me if I'd had more stress than usual lately. I snorted and said "yeah, I really have." He asked if I was taking any stress-reducing steps. I answered "Does drinking count?" He looked at me very seriously and said "NO." Seriously, find a sense of humor, I WAS KIDDING. Mostly. At LEAST 50 percent kidding.)

Now, since you're all my friends (except for YOU, anonymous reader. You are a turd) I figure you know a little about my personality and you'd all understand that there are some things I am unable to pass up: a bottle of pink wine, watching shows about plane crashes, the Behind the Music about Styx, monkeys, perfume, and things that are a little tacky and dorky (eg: Flying to Canada to see Lionel Richie at a casino in an unknown city). So when I found a page of a hairmaker site right here in Connecticut named FABI OF ROME (no, I'm totally serious. You can Google it) I knew that I had found the place for me. And, friends (again, this excludes you, anonymous), he offers 0% financing. I know. I KNOW!!!!

I, too, can have new and BETTER hair for a low, low monthly fee. And what if, say, I get the financing and I miss a payment? Does Fabi, or one of his goons come to my house and cut them out as I sleep? The mind boggles. I am going to be so terribly disappointed if I show up and the place is anything less than wrapped in gold lame and marbled white pillars. In my head, the hairmakers ride white stallions from client to client, offering down a quicky to all of the follically challenged patrons. I know for a fact that the place is going to be in a strip mall, and there'll be some gang of hoodlums out front laughing as people (read: I) hurry in, all embarrassed.

That's tomorrow. For right now, it's Friday night and I'm drinking a glass of wine. Pink wine. You all stay chill.

 

 

the other day - home - email - soon