Today...
You know how sometimes you have an idea? And you think that idea would be an awesome thing to do despite having no one else's assistance or guidance or opinion? You don't? Well, yeah, I suppose normal people don't do things like that. I do things like that. OFTEN.
That's how my hair ended up green before junior prom.
And now, that's why my hair looks like a rotten banana. (I'm not kidding. IT DOES.)
So, I thought it would be a good idea last night to just, you now, give myself a few highlights. I had a highlight-y kit and I'm a reasonably intelligent individual so I was like, yeah, I can TOTALLY handle this myself. That was a lie. I lied at myself there.
I put in the high-light-y stuff, but (somehow) it ended up on the majority of my head. So, I was like, whatever, this will work. I waited the appropriated amount of time and then headed off to the shower.
I will not describe what I was feeling when I saw my splotchy-headed-self in the mirror. Mostly because it is obscene and insulting to both bananas and mirrors. No, but seriously, I have no idea how I did what I did. So, because it isn't safe to dye over it yet or else all my hair will fall out, I've been wearing hats around Ball State. Unfortunately, I only hats I own are variously colored ski caps. So, I look like a burglar. And because I tuck all my hair into the hat, I look like a combo burglar-slash-cancer-patient.
All in all, it hasn't been exactly a banner weekend. In addition to my hair dying woes, I also did my laundry. Now, I hate laundry. I won't do my laundry for like a month and then I'll do it all in one night. So, I was doing that and just chilling in the laundry room, jamming out to some music and whatever, when a passionately-um-engaged couple of students wandered into the room.
They didn't really notice me until I made a sound that was kind of like "ugh-ah-omigod-gross!" I am, at my core, still about twelve years old.
Obviously, they noticed me after my little outburst and then bolted. So...that was fun. No, not really. Actually, it was really, really awkward. I mean I understand teenage hormones as much as the next girl, but...the laundry room? Really?
When did that become okay?
Oh wait...I have no room to talk. Cause I'm single. Still.
College has utterly failed my getting-a-boyfriend goals.
How can boys resist my rotten-banana-hair and ski caps? It's beyond me, really.
Whatever.
Danielle Out.
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