Bunny Butt Day

I love blogs. It's always something of a thrill to see a new post on your favorites. Some blogs are a way of reaching out to someone you are no longer able to communicate with directly. It isn't the only purpose, presumably, but it makes its way in every now and then. Sometimes the person you're reaching out to knows exactly what you're doing. And sometimes they want to respond, but know better. My blog is generally not like that, it rarely addresses one person. But once in a while I noncommittally respond to the one who reaches out. I just started to, but I changed my mind.

Ugh. I sooo completely don't want to go to work tomorrow. You know what I'd like? I'd like to wake up and find that the requisite patch o' ground had miraculously (and silently) tilled itself overnight while I slept. I'd wake up, drink my tea or coffee, depending on my mood, then head outside, plant the much hallowed heirloom tomatoes, plant the daisy and morning glory seeds, shower away the icky dirt, collect the dog and the one I'm smitten with, and head for the beach. Later, we'd all head back home, curl up on the couch (minus the dog I think), and perhaps watch a movie. Nice, quiet, mellow.

*sigh*

So usually I pull my hair back on top or put it in pigtails...anything to get it out of my face. Argh. But since I've been putting it back it's straightened out some. So today since I had nothing horrific to attend to, I left it down. I delight in informing you, pals, it's still just as curly as before. Yes, we can all rest easy tonight. Yeah, yeah, I know no one cares, but I like the curls, I just don't want 'em in my eyes. The good news of all of this is that my hair is finally grown out again to the point of functionality. Smashing! In fact, I think it's nearly as long as it was when I got my a-line before. I thought that was rather on the cute side. I remember that day so clearly. Fabulous haircuts like that were hard to get in Oakdale. I still love that town, I'd move back if Annie wouldn't hang me. Bitch. Sorry, that's another blog. Anywho. Oakdale had one really nice salon, in a small town sorta way. It was called Pamela's I think. There was this absolutely adorable girl who cut my hair once, she was of the generation that understood styles existed beyond bleach bottle blond and fluffy perms. The girl even had tattoos I think. Yikes. Well, when I went for the a-line, she was on maternity leave. So I had to go to another place, Pamela's was very hard to get into. And it took I swear to you three hours to get the new chick to understand what exactly a sharp a-line was. Truthfully, she never did. Some young kid came over and did her very best, which was good enough. I remember thinking, how weird! This must be what the midwest is like!

The cut was cute as hell, I'd rather like to get one now, actually. Sadly though I think I'm going to keep going as planned. God, I can't wait 'til I can braid it again, none of you'll ever see my hair down again.

Haha! A blog almost entirely about my hair! (Or was it? *raises eyebrow mysteriously*) Is anyone still here?! *crickets chirping* Hrmm...evidently not. ACK! I just said hrmm!!! I'm going to go email Gregor Dahhlink!

music: Funeral March, Chopin