Just. Fuck.

Remember the Fucking Scarlet Hair? And the Return of the Fucking Scarlet Hair

I think we have established beyond a doubt that my hair does not take kindly to dyeing. So what the fuck is wrong with me that I try to dye my hair again? 15 days before the wedding.

In my defence, a crop of grey hairs have made a very unwelcome appearance around my temples and I have become acutely aware of them. No-one else can see them, or so they claim (methinks people are lying so as to not incur my wrath) but since I KNOW that they are there, action is essential. I refuse to have wedding photo's with any grey hairs in them.

I must plead temporary insanity because I used L'Oreal yet again. I'm drugged up to the eyeballs so I imagine the plea will hold. Again I took the word of some dimwitted assistant who swore blind that my hair really would be the colour on the box. Why, I believed her, I don't know. Wishful bloody thinking.

At least I didn't try buggering about with multi tonal highlights again...

I selected a nice dark brown colour. Slightly darker than my natural colour, since going much darker doesn't really suit me. I wanted to look nice and natural.

Dark brown, my fucking arse!

People. I have black hair. We are back in fucking Goth territory here. OK, there is no grey and the weird blonde streak I picked up after a day at the beach is gone, and I admit that my hair also looks rather shiny, but my hair is now darker than the darkest night.

Shit. Fucking bollocking bastard hair.

I had black hair many years ago. I also wore black velvet jackets and very dark eye makeup at that time, and it is a period of my life, whilst fun, I have bugger all desire to revisit now.

So.

I daren't try to rectify the colour with more colour since I think my track record proves that this might not be a great idea. Knowing my current run of luck, I'll be bald by my wedding day (which is another look I've sported before, but again, don't really want to sport right now). I've worked out that I have several options:

1. Wash my hair several times an hour to try and fade the colour.
2. Get married looking scary.
3. Pay an obscene amount of money to have my hair professionally returned to a more natural looking colour.
15 days to go. Guess where I am going next week....

I've also managed to get hair dye all over the bathroom, but really, that is just par the course when hair dyeing. The Baron is probably going to moan, but I plan on feigning deafness. That is my excuse for not answering the phone when I see certain numbers flashing up.

Not that my phone is working at the moment anyway.

I have also killed my mobile phone. Somehow the screen took in a small ocean of water (in the middle of the night whilst on my bedstand - proof positive that things take on a life of their own after dark) and now the fucker won't work. Typically, the Baron's phone has proved itself insdestructible, having survived an economy cycle
and has also survived a mauling by Darth Lila.

Darth Lila isn't having a good time of things either.

Missy has managed to catch wet dermatitis from her uncle. Just what I need right now.
Sam and I went to the vet yesterday, and came out with a bald head and a lightshade. Strike that. He came out with a bald head and a lightshade, and I came out and paid for the shaving and the lightshade. To add injury to insult and injury, a tiny puppy leapt from his owners arms and bit his nose. Sam was helpless because:

1) he tends to allow puppies to take enormous liberties anyway; and
2) he was muzzled and lightshaded. He isn't bad at all, but when he is unwell, he has been known to snap at male vets (and I suspect if someone I had just met tried to ram a thermometer up my arse, I'd snap too). He's a ladies man, is our lad.

The ignorant and quite frankly, complete arsehole of a puppy owner then had the cheek to ask us to remove Sam from the vet's IMMEDIATELY because Sam had the nerve to LEAN on his leg whilst crying and trying to extricate his poor nose nose from the needle sharp teeth hanging on for dear life. This made Sam a clear and present danger to society that needs to be dealt with.
It was highly enjoyable ripping him a new one. Fucking twat.

The experience was made even more fun by the fact that Sam does not like men shouting at me, and he has a particularly menacing way of showing his displeasure. I admit, he looks more comical than menacing when he has no fur on half of his head and a large lightshade round his neck, but I think it is fair to say that Sam and I made a point.

Or not. It is hard to argue (with a straight face) that your dog is not a menace to society when he is straining and snarling. But if you are stupid enough to stand and argue with someone with a rottweiler in a lightshade, then you probably will get everything you deserve.

And I'm not talking about a squashed leg.

Darth Lila is not a happy bunny. Being that she is a dog, that is. She too has to to submit to a steroid cream regime and the humiliation of a lightshade. Is it any wonder that the vet surgery love me? They get rather a lot of my cash.

Since I am poor in cash (but not in cats) I have to wait for the sales before updating my knicker drawer. My knicker collection has started to look decidedly tatty, and with my current run of luck, would be exposed as such after being hit by a bus.

My favourite store currently has a sale on in the undie department. Wayhay! Time to get some natty new knickers!

Despite the Boy's love of boobies, he wasn't too enamoured with the undie sale. The little git knew I wanted to go to the ladies after looking at the sale stuff, and slipped off yelling that he would meet me there because he was so BORED that his brains would MELT. I took off after him, but he wasn't there when I arrived.

Cue a frantic search of the store, involving me, some rather nice security guards and a slightly mad old lady who overheard my request for help. I turned a corner to find him standing with my mother moaning that I still hadn't been to the toilet.

You've got to love a small child. He had waited for me in the GENTS.

I can't wait for my holiday.