Although I've been remiss in not mentioning it on the blog, a few days ago, I got the news that a local paper will be running my first humor column later this month. Because of this, I now need a descent picture that won't seer my Readers faces off - My kind photographer friend called me, and kindly pointed out it wasn't standard practice to run a picture of a cat with a drawn-on mustache. After glancing at the unholy hamster brothel that is my hair, I decided it was time to call The Keeper of the Locks...
"Hi, this is Stacey."
"Um, yes. Paige?"
"If this is really you, using the periodic table, please list the exact combination of chemicals it takes to bleach my roots."
*Sounds of hair clipping* "What seems to be the problem?"
"I lost you once, and I just can't go through it again. Fix me."
"It's a hot mess, isn't it?"
Pressing my lips to the receiver, I whispered. "It looks like two badgers doing the dance of death - or as the German often refer to it, Dödsdansen. From my estimation, the badger on the right side is winning, but, the breakage on the left suggests that part of my scalp died a long time ago. I call it The Wasteland."
"Mmm hmm. So we'll need a shampoo then."
"And some chicken wire. Do they sell chicken wire where you are, or should I bring my own? Your nimble fingers have always suggested you can weave broken things back together, like lithe dream-menders..."
"How about next Saturday?"
"That sounds good. You may want to block off the weekend, actually."
So, I'm now scheduled to go in and have a hair overhaul so I can have decent pictures taken. Ones, I will share will you all at a later date, after I've prepared you mentally and sent chocolate and flowers to ease your emotional scarring after seeing my visage.
Until Next Time, Readers!