Oops. I did it again.

And by “it”, I don’t mean started singing along to a Britney Spears song. By “it” I mean cut my own hair.

I. Will. NEVER. Learn.

It was *almost* okay this time. A snip & a chop & the split-ends were gone, hair was lighter, all was well with the world.

But I couldn’t leave well enough alone. Snip, snip, chop, chop, HACK, HACK.

I officially can’t stop cutting my own hair until it’s too late. Until I look in the mirror & swear. My heart beats faster I start to sweat. THAT’S when I put the frikking scissors down.

Bok, bok, bok.

In case you can't tell, that's a chicken noise. I could have said "Cluck, cluck, cluck" & you would have known what I was talking about without the need for clarification, but clucking implies something a bit nicer to me, than chickening out, as I have done....

The yellow hair is gone. It's amazing how quickly one can go from "Cool!" to "Eeeeeeeeew.... I want it out & I want it out NOW!". It's also amazing just how stubborn goddamn yellow vegetable 'semi permanent' dye is.... (unless you DON'T want it to come out, then I hear it is an entirely different story...)

Pink is on hold, for now. Apologies.

PS, If you have a Punk sized, pink flavoured kidlet, go here & enter to win an adorable little skirt!

PPS Posting will prolly be a bit light-on this week, because as you may have gathered, we're having visitors. They (The Boy's Daddy'o & Little Bro..) fly in tonight from up there from whence we came and will need to be entertained & whatnot....