Oh yeah - I should write something, huh?
I dyed my hair last night with a colour other than my normal one (which I have to buy from Canada). I think I won't be using this one unless I have to - it's at least four shades darker than my usual colour, and it dyed my fake nails (which fool most people at a casual glance, I am sneaky, o yesIam) bright orange.
My usual colour does not do anything so obnoxious - it's a well-behaved colour that dyes my hair, and nothing else (really - not my skin, not the countertops, not the shower curtain, and most certainly not my nails). This colour was much more delinquent - it kept spattering everywhere, it dripped, it flew across the bathtub and smeared all over my newly washed shower curtain liner (I scrubbed most of it off, but still), and it's way too drippy for me to risk trying to dye my eyebrows.
(I normally do this - I like the look. I know it says you shouldn't, but I am careful. You, of course, should not consider this encouragement to do something that might cause permanent blindness, so if anyone asks, you didn't read it here.)
On the bright side, I look totally goth with this colour. It's definitely not a natural red, whereas the normal colour fools people - just like the nails. All these fake things - it's a good thing I don't have a boob job - I'd be Barbie.
(Okay, not Barbie - she's outside my league. One of those knock-off "fashion" dolls they sell in the dollar store, maybe. And only if I have a tummy tuck too.)
But I do look like a gothy princess - it's too bad I don't know where any good nightclubs are up in Plimouth (and environs), because I would so be there, flipping my dark red hair around with abandon. I have a wardrobe full of great clubbing clothes that would (I admit) look pretty good with this colour, and they whimper at me every time I walk past them. I am definitely going out dancing for my birthday, but I'd like to go out before then - and maybe not be throwing up, like I was last time.
I got sick that day - so not fair. I went anyway, but it wasn't much of an evening (and sorry to the people who joined us), though I did discover that I can throw up and not spoil my makeup. I'm not sure when that will be useful, but you never know.
(Looking at my calendar, the Friday before the Lochmere event - September 26 - looks possible. Sadly, October is completely booked.)
In other random brain meat twitchings, I bought my CC27 membership today - I guess that means I'm definitely going. I have decided that ticky box is right, and I should relax, hang out with people, and wear fabulous costumes. I showed Bob my costume ideas last night, and he thinks it's cool enough that he's going to help me put some of the elements together. He's awesome - but you all knew that.
I'm a bit out of thoughts - the mega-insane cleaning yesterday (my bathroom is sparkly clean, btw) did a number on my arms, because I had to get down on both the bathroom floor and the kitchen floor to scrub. And scrub I did - I actually killed one Magic Eraser, and made serious headway through two others (of slightly different sorts) before running out of a couple of essential cleaning supplies, which I will be picking up today. In the meantime, ouch.
Okay, mega ouch. I interrupted the dust bunnies in the midst of their science experiments, and they were cranky. And I think I heard the shower curtain scream when I shoved it in the washer.
- I managed to spill sea salt all over the carpet while dusting (don't ask), but Bob will be doing the vacuuming, so I have ceased to worry about it. If we have time after finishing cleaning (and what does it say about my housekeeping skills that it takes two days to clean an 1100 square foot apartment?), we will do dinner.
Bob says he has bought me an anniversary present. We don't normally do this - we usually just buy cards for each other, or kiss and say "happy anniversary" or something, so I have not bought him one. But I am making him my truly amazing Crack Chicken Salad today so he has tasty sustenance while I am gone, and will think of me fondly.
Plus a clean bathroom. Never underestimate the romantic appeal of a clean bathroom.
(Of course, mine already has hair all over it - I shed like a Saluki with a thyroid problem. Damn hair.)