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!
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?
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.
and there IS no key
Ah, GPOY right there. I often feel like the smartest person in the room, but some days I literally feel like the only smart person in any room or even outdoors, all the way to the sky and including any spelunkers or snorklers currently under the surface of the planet. And then I go to Facebook, where I receive confirmation of this.
Yesterday I went to a meeting of people interested in a particular do-gooder nonprofit where the project lead spent FIFTEEN MINUTES defining the words in the title of the talk. If he didn’t think we knew what those words meant, why did he think we were there?
bling bling! glittery me
Well, now I know I’ve really made it. My friend Jenna, who used to live with Barrett Brown and is currently Facebook-engaged to Adrian Lamo, has Glitterified me. First the ninja trading card, now this. And all of DramaSec has been hammering that post ever since, wondering what the hell is going on.
Absolute, positive proof that bitching about moving house pays off.
Daphne blends in
When first one begins to make new life choices, there is only one place for an intrepid change-maker to start: self-analysis. And for quality self-analysis, I always turn to internet quizzes.
You Are Stalking
You tend to be very obsessive. Once you focus your attention on something or someone, it’s all you think about.You are also very secretive. People don’t know much about the life that you lead.
You are attracted to weak people. You may want to prey on them, but you also may just want to help them.You need attention, and you can get desperate if you aren’t getting attention from the right person. You’ll do about anything to get noticed.
Check, check, check, and CHECK. That’s the hard part over with.
Next stop: the wardrobe department! As you can see from the GPOY at the top of the post, that’s all taken care of.
Sadly, the bottom has dropped out of the formerly-lucrative blackmail market. In a world currently enduring its sixth season of Jersey Shore, there is no market for shame whatsoever.
This leaves me with the unanswered critical question: how in hell do I make a living from this particular assortment of talents? I hate the thought of going into politics!
Mucho thanks to Golden Retriever cross Murkin here for taking a bullet for me in demonstrating how cats typically react to me, him, and everyone else who couldn’t give a rat’s ass if all the feline world dropped off the face of the earth tomorrow. Dude, better you than me, but I pity you, I really do.
Ask Michael K over at Dlisted put it (better than I ever could have):
The feral cat’s name is Thomas O’Malley Flufferpants (I can’t with that name). A big-hearted foster family took him in and he almost immediately got sweet for the family’s dog Murkin. To say that Murkin isn’t feeling cuddly for Flufferpants is an understatement. Murkin is the Penelope to Flufferpants’ Pepé Le Pew. Stay with Murkin’s face while watching the clip and you’ll see a priceless gallery of side-eyes, sighs, roll eyes and emotions that range from “THIS bitch again?” to “I should really look into building a water moat around me.” I haven’t seen such an obvious display of MEH for pussy since Richard Gere kissed Jodie Foster in Sommersby.
Poetry. Sheer poetry.