Growing up I had blonde hair. I had white blond hair until I was about six and then it transitioned into golden blonde and I loved it. I would get sent to my room because I would sit in front of my family's wall sized mirror (yes, a whole wall that was a mirror!! weird, no?) and brush my hair and murmur, "You are sooo pretty!" Apparently, my parents didn't want me to become a vain asshole...so that behavior was frowned upon. I was sent to my room a lot. They had little to worry about, I was just looking at photographs and I'm constantly shying away from them...I guess this is the punishment of being a cute little kid.

When I went to college my golden blonde darkened up a little bit and I couldn't have that! I decided that I could only get prettier if I went blonder. I decided I wanted to be Gweneth Paltrow blonde, trying to get back to my roots, so to speak. Then Gwen Stefani came on the scene and hey! I liked ska, so what the hell! I decided I could only be prettier if I died it platnum. Let me tell you that at the time, I was pleased as could be with the results...I blame this solely on "my experimental college days" because looking at the photos, I can honestly say that I was never more hideous in my life than when I decided to have white hair that would break off constantly. Seriously, it was ridiculous...much respect for Gwen but you have to be a super millionaire to keep up that look!

Trying to class up my life a little and perhaps, attempting to channel her body as well (since mine was decidely...hmm..5'5" and rounded), I decided that a reddish brown like that of Helena Christensen would suit me perfectly. I did not immediately lose my hips and become angular and gorgeous as Ms. Christensen and I learned that I absolutely hate having red hair. Like Blondes, Reds require extreme maintanence. The only money I had in college was expressly reserved for parties. The red had to go. What next? A light brown of course!

My roommate and best friend from home decided that she could help me in this endeavor. For the first time in my hair dyed snobbish life, I decided to use a box. This time my inspiration was Alyssa Milano, and this time it was even more of a failure...mostly because of the red that was still in my hair and partially because of the mushrooms we had eaten before she started dyeing my hair. I remember saying that I looked like a Leopard Seawitch...because, well, I was under the influence of psychotropic drugs and because Tash had failed to completely died all my hair...there were patches that were the original red color.

And finally, I've gone from black to every spectrum of brown you can imagine. To where I can say that my hair most resembles Ms. Gylenhaal's, which is probably the celebrity that I resemble too...which is to say, it could be any collor brown of any person because it is decidely a generic brown. The funny thing is that I went to dinner with my mom and she touched my hair and said, "You should stop dying your hair so dark; you should let it go back to natural." And I thought I had, because I haven't dyed it since April...and I've never been so miserable. I'm stuck in a hair rut and for the first time in my life, my little shoebox of celebrity hair clippings from college can't help me.

The irony? Both Cr and my sister in law are hair stylists...

T and I went to see Gwen Stefani last night and you didn't. It was our birthday present (from March) and it was absolutely amazing...aside from the fact that I nearly got into a fist fight over my seat (I was in the right...AND...I didn't actually have to hit the evil woman but I should've especially when she gripped my shoulder and said, "I'm sorry that they let you in here..." and then I was all like, "Whatever bitch, you're in my seat and instead of hitting you like I want to, I'm going to listen to T and go to the usher and get him to move your ass!). And aside from the fact that it was 99.8% estrogen in the arena, it still managed to be AMAZING. Now don't get me wrong, I wasn't there to hit on men, pick them up or even admire them...but when you get 10,000 women in the same place it doesn't give off a good vibe! Before Gwen came on I wavered between wanting to embrace all the sweetly dressed little girls and smacking all the weirdly dressed older women (ie. a 40 year old woman dressed in a skin tight silver lame shirt, black leggings and then silver rat killer shoes).

John and Earl (the person responsible for our tickets!!! whoo!) wandered the streets of Camden. They ended up playing pool and some girl came over to John with a ping pong ball and asked him to get the dent out with a lighter. He said, "I really don't know what to do, I think you'd better do it." The next thing you know the ping pong ball was on fire! She leaned in and and whispered, "This was so embarassing! Please don't tell anyone..." He said, "Sure, I'll only tell my wife!" She ran away. But hey, my husband still has it...with socially awkward women.