Pouting

You know, it's not proper for a woman who's almost 27 to pout, but that's what I'm doing. Pouting. I'm in serious pout mode. The only thing lacking is the stuck out lip.

This is what happens when my hair gets messed up.

I'm obsessive about being a redhead. I love my red hair. Adore it. I have my preferred color, which is Intense Red by L'Oreal (also known as 5R in the hair color used when I got it done at the salon). It's a really bright, almost pinkish red. It's loud. It's colorful. It suits my skin tone. It's me.

So one of my sister's dear friends, a stylist, and my sister decide they can get me salon strength hair color at cost so that I can have more lasting color. My sister, in all the time she's worked at a salon, has become quite adept at mixing hair color for the stylists. And she's watched them apply it (heck, I could apply it too - in fact I do to a degree). So the only hitch to me getting my hair colored with salon strength color was that my sister had to apply it. No problem. Heck, she did a great job applying it.

If only it was the right color. Grrrr.

I told them my color and the code. They know me and how bright I like my hair. Somehow they managed to get the wrong color. I read the box. When the description is "Medium Natural Red Brown", you can pretty much tell that's nowhere near Intense Red in all its pinkyness.

I've almost come to tears a few times. The color is decent. It's not completely at odds with my skin tone. My major problem is that it's nigh on impossible to get it to red again without stripping this color off my hair. Which means major hair damage again. I had gotten it light enough to dye it right, and then now it's back to too dark. It's just really upsetting. This is my hair, and I swear to god, if at any point my sister or Tara (the girl who bought the color) say they thought this color would be better, I'll kill them. Because this is my hair and my color, and you don't fuck with something someone likes unless they tell you to.

It's like they screwed with my identity. My one coworker that I don't get along with well in the work environment even pegged my issue with this hair color. To quote her "It's a nice color, but it's not your wild color, which suits your personality better."

NASCAR

Jimmie won! In a porn-filled afternoon, Jimmie Johnson kicked booty at Darlington and took the checker flag.

I think he's trying to confuse me, poor baby. Between the umpteenth viewing of the Gillette Young Guns commercial where he and Kevin Harvick eye each other suggestively, the very wrong commercial for Bristol that, as plum_evil pointed out, talks about lots of "bumping and grinding" between Junior and Jeff Gordon next week, and Jimmie freaking out over Jeff's health when Jeff got in a wreck...well, this sport is either courting new fans, or they have an evil, suberversive advertising agency that should be applauded for pushing the man on man love agenda. Hee.

Then Jimmie goes and ruins it all by gushing over his fiance at the end. Babe. Shut up about the woman. We know she's just a cover. Of course the implication that Junior could bump and grind with Jeff is just laughable, because Junior is just too damn straight, but still.

Was there a point to this?

Poor Mikey. I turned on the TV to see him sitting in his car, pouting much like me about my hair. I'm afraid if his luck doesn't change, I'm going to have to cuddle him when I see him.

And poor Jamie and Kasey with the bad luck too.

Yay Junior for getting into the top 10 at the end, which puts him right up there into second in the points. But man, the top 8 in the points are within 100 points of each other. WTF? I can't have it this close. It's too nerve-wracking. I'll have an ulcer by shoot out time.

Random Observances

To cheer me up:

1. Dwayne Johnson is hot. Why? I'm not entirely sure. But he is.

2. I want a puppy. When my dog is gone, many, many years from now, but I want a puppy. Just for the tumbling and the cute. I've always had dogs, but never at the beginning stages.

3. The main disturbing thing about The Passion of the Christ is that, in one flashback scene, Jesus is hot. I have philisophical issues with Jesus being hot. It's not right. Dieties should not be hot. They should be holy. Not sexy and sweaty. It's just wrong.

4. My sister has disgusting food habits. Slim Jims dipped in olive/pimento spread. Just...ew.

5. I'm starting to feel Harvick love. Must. Fight. The urge!

6. I'm still only four stories in to the Chloe Knows, but I'm loving every minute of it. Gah! So much fic! *floves fic*

7. NASCAR jumpsuits leave nothing to the imagination. Therefore, it's always a good thing to have one of the jumpsuits that's black on the bottom. Which is why I insist that somebody get Ricky Craven a new jumpsuit. Please. He's not that attractive (far too redneck) and I don't need to know all the details of the goods.

8. I love an underdog. Go University of Alabama at Birmingham!

What if...

...back in season one, when Clark had a chance with Chloe, he sabotaged himself? What if his choices regarding Lana have all been because she's the easy way out? He subconsciously *knows* that it can't work with them, so that's why he hangs on to the dream. With Chloe, there was the basis of friendship first, which compounds the situation and makes it much more difficult. What if he was just too scared?

Just my Chlarky musings for the day.

***

( Smallville spoilery musings, connected to the finale )

Well, what do you know.

I just sold a pair of earrings. Dude.

I've taken to tinking in front of the TV at night with making jewelry. It's been earrings only so far (although I would love to get into necklaces and bracelets at some point). A coworker and I were talking about it, and she told me to bring the ones in I'd made (14 pairs), and I gave her a pair. Hey, she's cool. So then she told me I should sell them, then told one of the other women I had them...and I sold a pair. Hee. $2.00, but considering I spent not nearly that much on supplies, it's a profit.

This is kind of freaky cool.