>When asked what spirit I am choosing to imbibe, the answer is always a simple one. While it may show the path by which I’ve gotten to my life in the grey sky of LA, a shot of Jack is an order always leaving my lips no matter what everyone around me may think.
Taken simply with a water back, the drink instantly returns me to the dive bars I cut my teeth in as a young executive. In the fast dying world of print journalism, a night spent after the deadline with all my associates in tow and a round of Jack for everyone. That sweet tang touching the lips, the horrid aftertaste, and the accomplished feeling when swallowed-nothing like it in the universe.
Turns out when you get tired of the stares…you cave. At least I do.
Could no longer deal that was not one, not two, but three colors, so I am sitting here with the dye on as I type. My boob is pink. Hand to god.
And it only took me a half a bottle of a dye that will not only shine bright, (for a whole week and a half!), but also cover up my dark ass roots sans bleaching. Set me back $6.69….not too bad considering I can use it twice and didn’t have to spend an extra ten for bleach..yes, I’m using my blog to justify 7 bucks…oh the pathetic.
This is what you get when I’m bored, I guess…
I made a promise to myself. In the interest of keeping costs as low as possible until a place is leased & paid for…no more pink dye.
Cue the sadface.
It shouldn’t be this long an ordeal…but nevertheless….
When I step into the shower and wash my fast growing locks, all but the smallest amount of the pink color will wash out.
So little, yet so bright at the top. Serving only to be a ghost of what once showed the outside world of how I truly wanted to be seen.
Pink isn’t the big part of the equation. I’ve been this sad to see turquise, fire engine red…not purple though, because purple sucked and can bite my shiny, metal ass….I’m just sad every time that a piece, little as it may be, of my true wants coming thru in my appearance has to go away.
I can see the final destination in the horizon tho…
Just have to get there…
Monday is looking like the day finally. Hollywood. Jobs. Apartment. Car.
It’s been a while, but I seem to recall that’s the order it goes in.
Once I’m there, then I can finally get my color back.
Not so worried about the job front here with the pink hair.
A) Mama wants to be a writer….of sitcoms. Fuck yes. If anyone can make this happen…I’m a damn, determined bitch when I want to be.
B) It’s fucking LA.
Can’t wait to be there.