Hair Now

This post is an update to The Shape of Things To Come, on which we are making steady but (very) slow progress. Although not that “coming” part lately. MOVING ON!

Purple Reign

Purple Reign

So this is what I’ve decided on in terms of hair colour. Given that my hair is coming in a nice streaky silver/steel at the roots, and I’ve been a blonde since I was born (with a two year hiatus for Strawberrycoaster) it seems like a refreshing change. And the colours now are not quite as permanent as they were. I already own eight hundred items of grey clothing, so what the hell. I figure if I get it done at the Aveda school, somebody with training is supervising them and I can probably almost afford it. Also, when it grows in, the silver roots will work well with the existing lilac, although I may want to streak some semipermanent colours up into the grey so it doesn’t have as sharp a demarcation line. Victoria Potter at Demicouture recommended Aveda, and numerous friends recommended Manic Panic, so between the two of them I should be covered for the next, enpurpled phase of my life. This is the first time I’ve had enough grey to rock it as opposed to having it just dilute the natural blonde, so I might as well REALLY rock it, no?

UPDATE:

Edited to add that I think this colour goes very well with my new name from the Benedict Cumberbatch name generator: Boobytrap Covergirl. Yes, Boobytrap Covergirl. TOP THAT! Total Hippie Occupy Bond Girl name.

Purplepunzel

Purplepunzel

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Hot Dog Legs has Legs

Octodogs are eight times as hawt

Octodogs are eight times as hawt

What does it take to create a Tumblr that’s destined to go viral? Apparently it takes either: a) a Snooki-brown tan, a modicum of body oil, a good waxer, and an absence of visible musculature OR b) meat by-products.

Insert post-feminist joke here.

Hot Dog Legs is the very latest in one-joke virality, the new star in the firmament which already contains Jay Z’s 99 problems and exploding actresses, among many, many others. Hey, it’s Summer, don’t over-think things!

This Tumblr doesn’t even have any words to process, so there’s no risk of brain overheating. The concept is simple: photograph after photograph of the “same” thing. Are they hot dogs, or are they legs? Is that self-tanner or natural? Are those smokies or cheddar-stuffed? What does this say about the objectification of women and the human beings as meat metaphor? I don’t know, pass me another Margarita.

There is, it must be said, something about these photos that brings to mind cheap sunglasses, menthol cigarettes, and calories ingested in liquid form.

The post-literate simplicity of the site has not interfered with its popularity (to continue with the Snooki comparison). Their Facebook fan page was created less than a month ago, on July 28, and still has 3,186 Likes. The page’s own Likes include Gawker media, Sausages, 7-11, and the infamous, and apparently horsemeat-containing Ikea hot dog.

A few notes for aspiring legs and hot dogs: corn dogs will never work, because ain’t nobody got a complexion that bad. An even tan is essential, as is skin thick enough that the veins don’t show through. Don’t even think about trying this if you haven’t shaved or waxed recently, even if you’re blonde. There will be zero crossover between this blog and, say, FuckYeahHairyLegs, although the respective models might be interested in exchanging phone numbers.

TwitPic of the Day: Enter the Dragon

Er, so to speak, you understand. So to speak.

BoJo: Enter the Dragon

BoJo: Enter the Dragon

via Azahar

Now that’s a physical specimen to put the fear of god into Ryan Reynolds, eh? How majestic, how magnificent. How much energy went into getting this body in motion? The mind: it boggleth.

Never change, Boris. Never change.

catch you on the flip side

the flip side of this.

The flip side of the ability to wield physical beauty for political gain is…Occupy.

DSCN5495

Don’t get me wrong, I love the guy, but this just isn’t his best look. It isn’t anybody’s. The only things that could make it worse are Crocs and perhaps an ostentatiously large murse.

And much as it kills me to admit it, the look hasn’t changed in twenty, count ‘em, twenty years.

I was reading (and strenuously disagreeing with) Kurt Anderson’s article in Vanity Fair about how styles have not changed in the last twenty years. I was thinking “how could anyone get it so wrong?”

And then I saw this.

1992, people. 1992.

God, we’re old.