My Grandad called me to say that he got my wedding announcement and to try to figure out if he knew Jason or not.

Grandad: “Was he the boy that came over once to fix my computer and he had a ponytail?”
me: “Yup, that was him”
Grandad: “Does he still have the ponytail?
me: “No, he started going bald and cut it off”
Grandad: “Good, because you can’t be bald with a ponytail”

Such brillant words of wisdom from my Grandad, and they are just so true. I hate when bald men have sad little ponytails just to prove that they do have some hair left.

Friday afternoon I went and got a haircut. It’s the Worst Hair Cut Ever™ and the woman that gave it to me should have her hair cut by a blind 5 year old that has never touched scissors before because that’s the only way her hair might look as bad as mine does right this very moment.

Why does it look so bad? There are many reasons, including it looks nothing like the picture I showed her. Unless I accidently showed her a picture of a person that had just been in a brawl with a jaguar and the jaguar won. But I don’t think I showed her that picture. That’s typically the picture I bring with me to the vet’s office any time Tangi needs a check up. It helps remind the vet exactly what they are dealing with.

The thing I’m most upset about was when she picked up a piece of hair along the crown of my head and held it straight up. I thought she was going to even out the ends, but was I wrong. Really really wrong. She snipped that piece of hair about half an inch away from my scalp. In one stupid snip of the scissors I became Ed Grimley.

So now I have to schlack my lovely cow lick with gel to make it kinda, sorta, lay down. I’ve already placed a call to the salon manager to complain. And so help me, if she chooses to not call me back there will really be hell to pay.

While in Paris and London I kept seeing people with really great hair colors. Not your normal colors that naturally grow out of people’s heads either, but bright fun colors that made me think of having no worries and actually enjoying life. Of course I had to have fun hair too.

When we got home I made a hair appointment to have my hair highlighted in purple. Why purple? I haven’t a clue. I think I picked it because I thought it would be nice and dark and still look good against my red hair. I also wasn’t thinking lavender or anything light but rather a dark violet, almost black, color.

Before you jump ahead and think I now have purple hair, stop. It’s not purple. My stylist wasn’t sure what shade of purple I was thinking and therefore she didn’t go buy any dyes. She offered to go over the weekend and get some and we could reschedule for during the week, but being the instant gratification person I am, I told her I was open to other color options and let’s work with what she had in the salon.

Her solution was not highlights but rather a total dye job changing every little bit of hair that I have. We started by making my hair brown. A really deep chocolate brown that acts as a nice platform for the other three colors I have striped through it. She then layered an orangey red, a deep red-ish violet, and a bright red through it.

If I do say so myself, it looks AWESOME. Like, I rock and have super cool hair, awesome.