"Punk Rock Maybe..."

When tongs are not enough...

Last night I was apparently under the impression that I was head stylist at Toni & Guy's, for that's the only excuse for the 'fright-fringe' I am now sporting.  Of course last night, heavily under the influence of a weekends worth of binge drinking, followed by a few 'swift ones' at the husbands local, the idea that my recently professionally cut hair needed improvement seemed an inspiration at the time.

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...