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listen  jim guthrie read  the little prince laugh  ryan belleville
random © design and text by near-sighted 2001-2002 |
music: "He's Kissing Christian" - that dog I bought a new hair dryer today, in hopes of livening up my limp hair. This is a special event, this purchase, given that I've never really given two hoo-has about my hairstyle or even if I have given two hoo-has about my hairstyle, I've usually shrugged it off by claiming, "Hey, what can I do?" And after this 20$ investment, I resort to this oft-performed shrug and wonder if even this instrument will miraculously save my hair. After those high school years of slapping my mother's hand when she even attempted to use a blowdryer or curling iron to my hair, I don't think I've ever learned how to properly use any tools to manage my hair. A brush is as complex as it has gotten in the past few years, and even then it's a special day. So I grab my styling instrument (a prickly new brush from Shopper's Drug Mart) and am confused with the mirror's scientific laws and am unsure how to orchestrate the brush through my hair while looking at my reflection, how to roll it adroitly like the stylists do at hair salons. Instead, in complete ineptitude, I end up either entangling my styling instrument in my nest of a hairdo or whipping it down the hall into the kitchen, followed by a series of overdue curse words. My hair, finally, does not give the impression that it is of fuller volume as the big claims on the brush packaging indicate. Instead, I have succeeded in pulling some additional hair out, enhancing not only the dull, lifeless look I already had, but pretending that I actually meant to transplant myself into the world of female baldness. I freaking hate this girly stuff.
And I feel fine....... - 2004-02-23 |