Britta, you put one wash-away blue streak in your hair. I lost an arm.

  I really love the idea of dying my hair but in actuality, I'm far too lazy to keep up with it. The last time I dyed my hair was before I got married, and that was at my mom's urging. It was fun, though! It was kind of red because spending my formative years watching The X-Files made me YEARN for red hair.

That was like two years ago, though, and my hair hasn't seen a drop of dye since, as evidenced by the gray hairs that peek through whenever I pull my hair into a ponytail. I kind of like them, though, all streaky and silver, so I haven't really felt any need to cover them up. I do like the idea of a complete makeover, though. I mean, aren't those the best part of any reality show ever anyway? YES. (Yes is the correct answer, don't argue with me.) So I found this website (completely addictive, as all the best websites are) where you can try on different hair colors and styles before you totally ruin your hair AND IT IS SO MUCH FUN.

Here is me but like Three Years Ago Me not Now Me. The problem with this website is that you need a full-frontal (hee), normal picture of just your face and I have, like, zero of those.

Bleep bloop.

Scully me:

That's completely illogical, Mulder.

Blonde Curly me:

Country music star!

Cher Hair:

Or whatever.

What I will look like once all of my hair turns gray (fingers crossed!):

I've gone Total Rogue!

Tami Taylor!

Hey, y'all!

Is this my worst post ever*?



*yes

Excuse me, would you mind not farting while I'm saving the world?

It's not an issue of the curtains matching the carpet; the problem is matching the curtains to the... I don't know, valances? Because left unchecked, my eyebrows would rival Eugene Levy's for Supreme Overlordship over Planet Eyebrownia. My eyebrows, they are like giant face caterpillars perched above my eyeballs. What I'm trying to say is that my eyebrows are conspicuous. And since I'm not pretty enough for this:



I end up looking like this:



So no, I cannot pull off another hair color.

I could take away the salt from your eyes

  My hair goes swoosh swoosh swoosh when I run. From shoulder blade to shoulder blade it swings back and forth, forth and back. I cover pavement, dirt, clay, grass. Last night, I accidentally stepped into a six-inch deep dark murky puddle. Swoosh swoosh swoosh.

It's brown hair. I don't know what other color to call it. It's not dark brown, so I guess it's light brown. It doesn't have highlights, so I guess it's plain. It's only been dyed once. That time it was dark brown. Or dark red brown. Or dark red black. It was dark. And it was hard to maintain.

I want it out of my way, out of my sight. I want it back in a long pony where it catches the sweat and protects my neck from the sun. I don't care what color it is, though I assume all this running will turn it light brown. Or light, light brown. Not the color of pavement or dirt or grass, but maybe the color of clay. Swoosh swoosh swoosh.

And I'm a huge fan of the way you lose control and turn into an enormous green rage monster.

This week's Collective topic is: Could you pull off a different hair color.

And my answer is: We're about to find out.

'Cause, y'all, at the tender age of 33, grey hairs are starting to take over my head! I saw the first one on my 28th birthday, and I was like, "LOL, that's cute!" And then when I was 30, I was plucking out a couple of them every month. And now I'm this age and every time I look in the mirror, it's like they're manning an assault on my skull. People keep telling me to stop ripping the hairs out of my head, but they weird me out. I guess I could get my hair colored or something, but then I'd have to get it re-colored and re-colored and re-colored and frankly I'd rather spend that money on comic books.

Huh. I guess I'll stop this hair nonsense and only start worrying about getting old when I'd rather buy groceries instead of Avengers Legos.

All this has happened before and all this will happen again.

  I live in (and am from) Dayton, OH. People like to shit all over Dayton (literally...OK, not really that I know of, except for birds and stuff) but it's not that bad. Like a lot of manufacturing towns, Dayton was hit hard by the economic clusterfuck of the last few years, but things are getting better. In my view, anyway, which ADMITTEDLY is narrow. But whatever, Dayton is home of:

Paul Laurence Dunbar

I write poems and stuff!

The Schuster Center, which is pretty and shiny:

Oooh, reflecty.

The Victoria Theatre, which has history coming out of its ass:

AND IS HAUNTED.

The Dayton Dragons...some people like baseball!

People will come, Ray.

Bart Simpson Nancy Cartwright...hey, my mom went to HS with her!

Whatever and stuff!

West Wingers Martin Sheen, Rob Lowe (well, raised in), Allison Janney (AND CJ Cregg!)

FUCK YEAH SAM SEABORN

John Dorian, friend of Turk Turkleton, choreographer of the greatest dance of our time:

AND FUCKING FLIGHT:

So dapper. And aerodynamic.

So. You know. We've got that going for us. (Other stuff, too, probably!)


Why yes, I have written something very similar to this (but better and with more effort) before.