I r having a midlife crisis!

So.

Last week I turned 31.

This week I decided I wanted to start my midlife crisis.

It all started on Saturday. I was sitting at work, bored shitless and wondering wtf I can do to entertain myself and I thought "I know! I'll dye my hair!" Coz - well - usually, I dye my hair when my sex life sucks or I'm feeling a bit shitty with myself.

My sex life is fine, thanks for asking.

So anyway.. I start making plans. Must find a hairdresser, must get quotes, must shop around. I did all that, and do you know what? I couldn't find a SINGLE fucking hairdresser who was available (so what if it was at short notice - ie: I finished work at 4, I wanted an appointment for between 4:45 and 5pm). I rang my cousin - she had a hens night and a birthday girls hair to do. I rang my usual hairdresser - she said "oh Tanja it's velly short notice but okay I do hairs for you whatchu wanna haf?" So I explained - a full head of foils, purple over the foils and black inbetween. She was perfectly fine with it all til I said I wanted black. "NO! ABSORUTERY NOT! I DON' DO BRACK DYE BAD RUCK I NO DO BRACK! VELLY VELLY BAD RUCK!" Fucking superstitious grrrrrrrrrrrr.

So I gave up on the idea of professional hair and decided I'd do it myself.

That, my friends, is a fucking disaster waiting to happen.

Common sense got the better of me, as did laziness when I woke up at 11am yesterday morning and thought "Fuck this I need to find a hairdresser!" so after a bit of shopping around and about 10 phonecalls, I found one that said he'd do my hair for me.

Awesome.

By the time all the foils were put into my hair, I was ready for a smoke (it took over an hour, give me a break!) so off I trot outside of the hairdressers, out of the shopping centre (did I mention I had a head full of foil?) and out the double doors. I stand RIGHT UNDER the camera whilst I have my smoke looking like an absolute nightmare with a hairdressers cape blowing in the wind and foil on my head!

I finish off, go back inside, sit around and then get the best head massage in the world. Omg bliss. Then it's time for the purple. Oh man. I love my hair so much.

We get the purple on and the hairdresser asks if I want to go for another smoke, I say sure, and out I trot again, happy as a clam, with purple hair flapping in the wind.

Then I hear "holy fuck what have you done to your head?"

I swear I can't go anywhere in this suburb without being seen by my friends. Not that I mind, but for once I'd like to do something and NOT get busted!

3 hours later, I'm $145 poorer, and a whole lot of hair shorter, but fuck my hair looks hot.