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Working at a restaurant may cause purple hair

So much for growing my poor fingernails back out, I’m cooking again. It doesn’t really matter, I suppose. Long, elegant fingernails are prone to get muck wedged underneath them when you’re cooking, anyway, and that’s not only unsanitary, but no longer particularly elegant. Quite the opposite, in fact. I won’t go into the details.

All I know right now is that I want a chef coat and chef pants. Riding the bus home from work wearing sweaty, food-stained jeans and t-shirt makes me look like a dumpster-diving, homeless mental patient. If I must look like a mental patient (and I frequently do), I’d rather look like an amusingly eccentric nutjob, instead of the icky kind that has loud conversations with an invisible giant devil bunny while they urinate on the azaleas in front of the county courthouse.

That’s it. I’ve had it. I’m going to start tinting my grey hair purple, instead of matching it to my alleged natural hair color. Crazy homeless people generally don’t have the money or facilities to dye their hair weird colors. If people are going to look at me askance in public, I would prefer that they have a good reason.

Besides, purple is my favorite color, and I’m forty. I can have purple streaks in my hair if I damn well please. So there.

Web trauma

This site was down last night. It’s not as if I’m losing money or anything, but it’s still frustrating. I use Frihost, which I think is the best free web hosting community available (250mb space, 10gb data transfer/month), but free is free. The wonderful people who run Frihost have other things to do, such as go to college, study, work, eat and socialize. Hell, they might even sleep occasionally. And computers do weird things and stop working properly, on a regular basis, for no obvious reason. My DSL went down yesterday morning, also for no apparent reason. I guess yesterday just wasn’t my day for the internet.

Thanksgiving

So, who else gained five pounds yesterday? I spent most of the evening drifting in and out of a turkey-induced coma, which caused me to goof repeatedly while attempting to sew together the pieces of an afghan that I crocheted months ago. Not exactly the best way to work off an excess 2200 calories. I need to live on soup and salad for days to make up for it… turkey soup, of course.

Rechargeable batteries!

Hooray! I have batteries for the camera again. Rechargeable batteries. Four of them. I am going to attempt to keep track of how long the batteries last, and figure out whether they save me a significant amount of money. Obviously, they will at least give me a smaller ecological “alkaline battery footprint” in the local landfill, assuming they actually work worth a squat. We shall see.

Running out of toilet paper

I am going to say something blasphemous and awful.

Brace yourself; I’m female, and I hate shopping. I really do. Shopping sucks. It sucks hairy, unwashed ass, unless you are shopping for things you don’t really need, with money that you can afford to fritter away.

Shopping for necessities blows chunks. I hate shopping for things like groceries, toilet paper, pet food, and light bulbs. Especially when I have to buy the cheap generic stuff because I’m poor.

I don’t normally buy clothes anymore, unless I’m replacing worn-out necessities, like a plain black skirt that has faded to an uneven dingy dark grey, or a white blouse that has an ineradicable pizza sauce stain on it.

The last time I went clothes shopping was at a Goodwill store, where I spent $33 for six tops and two adorable little black cocktail dresses. I didn’t need the dresses, but at less than $5 apiece I simply could not walk away. You never know when you’re going to need a cute little black dress. Particularly the fitted black crepe number that I call my Audrey Hepburn dress.

But I still hate shopping.

The hard part of a new blog

I have got to do something about the way this site looks. It’s reasonably pleasing to the eye. In fact, it’s utterly inoffensive. Which, of course, offends ME. I want it to be weird, but not too creepy, and somehow achieve this feat without loading it down with graphics and causing it to load slowly. My web hosting is a bit wonky as it is, so I don’t want to cause grotesque bandwidth issues.

I also “need” to install dozens of WordPress plugins, because I just CANNOT LEAVE WELL ENOUGH ALONE, and have a compulsive desire to tweak the hell out of anything that can be tweaked.

Stay tuned.

Another missed photo op

I have GOT to get some more batteries for my camera. I saw a pretty snake in my garden today, but a picture would be vastly preferable to a thousand words. A video of me jumping three feet in the air because the snake in question startled me screechy would be even better.

I really didn’t expect to see a lively, active snake during a cold snap, even with the sun out. It was a harmless little black racer, but black racers hide in vegetation, and rapidly whip their tails in the dead leaves on the ground if they are disturbed. The resulting noise sounds very much like a rattlesnake and scares the hell out of anything with ears and a lick of common sense.

I heard the snake before I saw it, so I jumped up and back, while emitting a high-pitched squeal that would make any two-year old kid proud. Then I felt stupid, after realizing that I had been scared silly by a pretty little thing about a foot long, about as big around as my finger, and less toxic than a toy from China.

So how was YOUR day?

This is just pathetic

Hooray! I felt like warmed-over hell yesterday, but I stuffed myself full of zinc and vitamins before bed, and now I merely have sniffles.

I really should get out more, if not having the flu is cause for celebration.

Or if it’s the only thing I can think of to write about in my (thankfully new and nobody’s actually paying attention) web log.

Just wanna curl up

My head hurts, and my throat is dry and scratchy. I am NOT hung over, so this is a bad sign. Something else is wrong. You know it’s bad when you FEEL like you’ve been out drinking all night after a sedate evening at home. That means flu.

God, don’t let it be a double-ender virus, don’t let it be a double-ender virus, don’t let it be a double-ender virus. I have a nice new wastebasket in the bathroom, and I’d rather not puke in it.

Is it just me?

Sometimes I can’t say what I think.

I pride myself on being balls-to-the-wall up front about what I think, but sometimes I need to bite down hard on my sharp tongue to keep from losing a job or a friend. I don’t always succeed in doing so, and the consequences usually aren’t worth being right.

I like being right. Everybody wants to be right. But sometimes being right gets you fired, or makes somebody you love never want to speak to you again. And of course, there’s always the nagging chance that you’re dead wrong.

What do you do when you are sure you’re right, but it’s going to piss people off?