hollybrooke: (usagi-chan)
[personal profile] hollybrooke
Mom has been thinking how much better my hair would look with some blonde highlights. So she tried putting some in tonight with that Clairol Herbal Essences streaking kit.

My. Hair. Looks. Like. Shit. I want to cry so badly.

She screwed it up. In some places you can barely notice any streaking. But mainly up on top, she didn't get it close enough to the root so it looks REALLY unnatural, and it globbed up too much on the top. This is what happens when I let a woman who's hand coordination isn't all that hot anymore mess with my hair. So tomorrow I'm going to have to wear a hat at Spencer's, and maybe a kerchief or something at B&BW. I hate it. I'm going to have to stop by and pick up a thing of light brown hair dye to go over it, which I will have to do tomorrow night AFTER MIDNIGHT when I get off of B&BW. If there were a 24-hour Walgreens in Lowell, this wouldn't be a problem; I'd be there RIGHT NOW. But nooooooooooooo. I live in tbe fuckin' boonies, where all the important stuff is at least a half hour drive away from here.

Like my week couldn't get any worse. Now my hair is fucked up. Someone put me out of my misery right now, please.

**fin**

Oh, yeah, took another quiz:
sexy bra



Your bra is a SEXY bra!


Like you, your bra likes to titillate and tantalize.


You like see through bra's, and in the right mood you might even wear one with the nipples cut out ;)


Exploring the fine line between sexiness and slutty-ness is a favourite pastime of yours!


Another favourite pastime is bending over to pick something up you dropped "accidentally" and making sure people (guys, girls, it's all good) get a chance to look down your top and admire how sexy your bra really is.


Or more so, the package it encompasses....



What Kind of Bra Are You?

More Great Quizzes from Quiz Diva


Interesting to know.

*edited later on
And if Mom didn't piss me off with doing my hair, she pretty much just ruined her Christmas surprise. She went out and bought the new No Doubt album for herself, the selfish beeyotch. Now I have to go out this weekend and return it, amongst all the crazy Christmas shopping. It's going to be a major hassle. So thank you, Mom, for fucking everything up.

Is there a way I can just crawl back into bed and forget this whole goddamned week never happened? I won't even get home until after midnight tomorrow, for the love of God. I have to be at Spencer's by 10, get off at 6, and be at B&BW by 8 and work till midnight. This is crazy. Maybe I can stop by the Meijer's on 41 to pick up whatever haircolor I need to fix this piece of crap.
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