|When tongs are not enough...|
People always warn you about 'sexting' (sending inappropriate or cringe-worthy messages to ex's etc.) but no one really warns you about the inherent dangers in manicure scissors, perceived sobriety and 'artistic urges'.
So predictably, last night when i hack-hack-hacked chunks out of my hair, it was looking more and more punk rock, and combined with my bright fuschia lip gloss, was looking fairly amazing and avant-garde at the time. This morning I just look like I've been to 'Supercuts' (for those not in 'the know' it's a really, really cheap discount haircutting place last seen in Canadian strip malls in the 80's).
But I digress. My hair looks like shite and no matter of preening, curling or twirling is going to restore it to its former pseudo-glory. So, I'm going to embrace my 'new look', work it with masses of hair product, and if questioned, claim I got it shorn by some amazing Japanese hair stylist in Soho. So there.
As if sporting the (hopefully temporary) fringe of a mental patient this morning weren't enough, I'm having to contend with rip-off appliance repair people, annoying school administrators, a whoopie-cushion obsessed 21 month old, and a day of near fasting ahead of me. Mind, after all the gluttonous (both on the booze and food front) weekend the husband and I just shared in Brighton, this is proving quite a shock to the system. (Though I suppose any day which starts with lattes, a few glugs of scotch and an unlimited supply of glazed Krispy Kremes on the bedside table is going going to take some beating.)
All manner of sisters, newly minted 'bro-in-law' and a Grandma to boot, chipped in to supply a much needed birthday break away sans monsters this past weekend. It was so much fun, and such a good time was had, that it's hard to imagine that normal life is going to be anywhere but downhill from here for the rest of the year. Saying that, with a Goan escape planned and booked for right after the holidays, it's hard not to feel a tad smug in the face of all this arctic chill permeating my tired London bones.
I did just have this thought though that my newly shorn fringe might just catapult me straight to the top of the Goan Hippy Fashion stakes. And did I mention that somehow we came back from our weekend away with a ten year old Chinese bonsai named 'En Woo'?
See, life ain't all that bad.
|New Bonsai plant 'En Woo' purchased impulsively in a flurry of inebriated joy...|
|"No I am not drunk. Yes I am capable of behaving in a non-imbecilic fashion whilst out dining in public."|
|Accountable to no one...|