Because bad taste is better than no taste at all.....

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

But I digress. Again.

So here I am, poking through boxes of stuff, trying to find homes for things. Let's face the facts: there isn't a whole lot of stuff that I can get rid of in the closet. It's stuff of my parents' generation, or stuff people have given me, or just stuff I don't know why I'm keeping but I sure as hell can't give it away. You know what I mean--old stamps and postcards and used Christmas cards and that jean jacket of my mom's, that is covered all across the back with patches from Girl Scouts. That kinda thing.

I came across a couple of hard drives from an old computer I used to have... Said computer came up one day and told me I needed something called a "boot disk" to continue (that's computerspeak for "BWHAHHAHAHAH! You lose, asshole!") . This is the same computer Geek Squad charged me $100 to come out and tell me they couldn't fix it. I think it's a conspiracy. But I digress.

These hard drives had been stuck in the back o'the closet for at least 5 years now....There's nothing I don't have a copy of, somewhere else.... No personal information anywhere on it (I hadn't discovered online banking at that point). So why did I still have the things taking up space? It's almost wrong to take them out back and shoot them full of holes, but I bet it's fun. Addressing my inner redneck, y'all.

I also found a bunch of photographs stuck in one of those photo envelopes, that the photo service sticks them in once they're developed. I remembered I'd weeded out the box I normally keep the pictures in, and was intending to send these home with the kid, for the ex to deal with. They're mostly SCA pictures, or ones of her that I had extras of. There were quite a few of him. There were even a few of the trip we took to meet an old friend of his...that he used to go out with a long time ago... I wonder if the current wifey knows? Oops, did I type that? Bad me. Yeah, send 'em on.

I'll introduce THOSE next time I go to meet them, and they're both there. "You remember T., don't you? Oh, he didn't tell you about his 'friend'?? " Bwahhahahahah. You lose again, asshole. 

But I digress. Again.

No, this isn't me. But I feel like
this, some mornings.

I cut my hair. Again.  I might even get brave and post a picture of it, I don't know.  The reactions have been thus far mixed. It's ranged from oblivious (one of my instructors didn't notice) to compliments (I think--does "perky" count as a compliment for hair??) to complaints ("You cut your haiiiiir? Whyyyyyyy?" just to piss you off, buddy)

Some days I ponder doing something different with the fur on my head. I remember I got a perm in high school, and it didn't turn out too terribly well. I resembled a poodle crossbred with Richard Simmons.  Kinda like the picture on the left there... But I digress.

This is your brain on "skullet".
Any questions?

See, me and the hair have an understanding. As long as it behaves, it grows. When it starts knotting at the ends no matter how often it's brushed, it's gone. Well, shortened anyhow. I'm not into the Sinead O'Connor look. 

Of course, while I was married, my fur hung down to my waist. I have to admit, it looked pretty good. But I had to brush it, and brush it, and brush it. Got to be a real pain in the head, seriously.

So now I look like Dora the Explorer,  if Dora ever grows up to have a serious case of acne and bad teeth.  Wait. I guess by then she'd look more like Swiper. And I digress. Again.


Tremble in fear.


1 comment:

  1. Just set those legs up on the steering wheel of a lawn tractor and there isn't a man within sixteen miles of you that will give a shit or notice what color of hair you have, let alone how long it is.

    Except for me, female hair really intrigues me, I mean, the hair on her head. :-)


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