I hurt. All over. I don’t know where I picked up a bug, but I picked one up, and I hurt. I’d like it to go away now. (I’d think it was just soreness from the unaccustomedness of having worked out, but I’m pretty sure working out wouldn’t make my eyeballs hurt. Or my throat. Or my head, for that matter.) Other than that, I’m pretty okay. For the record, my hair does not look awful by any stretch. It’s just really not what I wanted, and getting it to…
bordering on miserable
Bordering on miserable about my hair. There is swearing and unhappiness behind the cut. Peanut gallery remarks will not be appreciated. I looked at my hair more closely. I have now got two sections of burned-off ‘bangs’ that are about eyebrow length at the edges of where I did the bleaching. *sigh* It’s melted, effectively. Not as astoundingly as it did the time I *actually* melted my hair and it turned gooey and stretched in my fingers, but melted. I do not know what I’m going to do right now.…
OMG. Teh sexay.
I got the re-drawn page one for Chance from Ardian today. At the moment I’m feeling quite cheerfully confident that Image Comics will be making a terrible, terrible mistake if they turn me/us down. I’m also feeling confident that if they don’t pick it up and produce it, *someone* will, or I will find *some* way to make it work, because I’m having too much fun to stop. :) I’ll deal with trying to figure out who and what and how later, if Image says no. Next up: get me…
Grr.
I bleached my hair this morning. Not very successfully, either, god damn it. I *knew* I should have picked up the stuff I used in the States when I saw it while we were in NYC. I can’t remember what it’s called, but it’s the only bleach that’s given me the blondeness that I wanted. Now I’ve got sort of reddish-yellow roots and the rest of _didn’t even change colors_. It’s vaguely lighter. God damn it. I’m pretty grumpy about this. I’ve been dithering over whether I wanted to damage…
*snort*
*snorts violently at * Go on. Go read this entry. Go ahead. Then come back here, where I will say: I suppose there’s really no point in posting a response to that and saying, “Except I did not *get* introduced to Mercedes Lackey that weekend; the closest we came to speaking to one another was singing a song from “Oklahoma” from opposite ends of the yard, along with eight other people.”