The Look I'm Going For Is Tammy Faye � � � Tuesday, Oct. 14, 2003 * 00:53

I said I was going to write every day. Apparently it will be a tougher challenge than I thought. I've been sitting here waiting for Nero to download, and I can't think of anything to say. Tonight, I cooked chicken pot pies, and Velveta shells and cheese. It tasted good. I also cooked a big breakfast at 3pm this afternoon. I bought bacon, eggs, butter, and biscuits at the supermarket last night, and cooked them up today. The first time around with the bacon, I burned it to a crisp. And not in the good, bacon crispy way. In the charred, disintegrated, black and ashen way. So, I had to cook a second batch. Justin and I ate it with Prince of Wales tea while we watched Star Trek. There's nothing like staring at a Kardassian while you eat breakfast to start your afternoon off right.

Later this evening, after we watched 7th Heaven and Everwood, I got the idea into my head to go to CVS and buy hair dye, shampoo and conditioner, and facial scrub. Justin didn't want to come, so I went alone.

Big fucking mistake. Don't anyone ever let me go out to buy beauty / cleansing products on my own.

I spent 45 minutes in CVS gaping in wonder at all the pretty hair colors, shampoos, and facial products. I ended up changing my mind 13 times about what kind of shampoo I wanted; finally, half an hour later, I picked some Neutrogena color protection crap. I chose a darkish brown for my hair. And Neutrogena "exfoliating and expunging scrub" (where in fuck do they come up with these names), and some eyeshadow roll-on crap that looked nice and neutral and had the slightest hint of a sparkle to it.

Well, I've dyed my hair now. Remember how I picked a nice "darkish brown" color?

MY HAIR IS BLOODY ORANGE. ORANGE.

Oh, and the roll-on eyeshadow?

IT LOOKS LIKE HALLOWEEN GLITTER PAINT.

So, it looks like I'm doomed to either look drab and mousy or like a clown on her way to a rave. At least I don't have a red nose or carry a glowstick. Hopefully my place of employment is dimly lit enough that no one will notice the irridescent disco-ball effect emanating from my eyelids.

I know what you're thinking. If I hate it, why don't I just take it back, or at least not wear it?

Because it's pretty. Now leave me alone.