my hair is actually a different color than my eyebrows now. that's just weird.

okay okay. so here's plan b: avoid all bright lights. weird freaky hair color is harder to see in darker lights. right. okay then. that sounds like a good plan.

okay. it's okay. nobody panic. just breathe. i'm all right. i just have to wash my hair a few times and this weird color will like, die down, hopefully. so i just have to shower a few times and i'll look less like a freak. right? right. okay then.

but the box says "permanent." but they don't really mean it, right? i mean...it's not REALLY permanent, is it? it can't be.

ohhhhhhmygod.

oh. my. god. ohmygodohmygod. i think i just made like a big mistake.

my hair is like...a NOT normal color. i don't even know what to call it. i look like a freak.

AAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

okay. this is hands down one of the funniest, coolest stories i have ever read. believe me, you will love it. from the sweet potato queens' book of love by jill conner browne...

before xena, there was curtisene

the very essence of creative preparedness is contained in the person of curtisene lloyd, and for this reason she is the unchallenged winner of the sweet potato queens' highest award: "the most prepared woman the world has ever known." (every word of the story i am about to tell you is true. it is authenticated in court documents.) curtisene lloyd is a mild-mannered, sweet-voiced little sunday school teacher of a lady, middle-aged, a nurse. she lives, with her very old deaf aunt, in a nice house in a little town not far from jackson, where she works at a large hospital.

february 1990. late one night curtisene awoke to discover a man in her bedroom. and he was definitely not there at her invitation. this intruder advised her of the various and sundry obscene things he planned to do to her before he made up his mind whether or not he would kill her. "i might kill you," he said, "but i'm gonna git me summa dis fust." and with that he removed all of his clothing and climbed up on the bed. he situated himself on the headboard somehow and began giving curtisene some rather detailed instructions concerning the performance he expected from her.

now, our curtisene, she was paying real close attention. she had taken note right off that this guy did not have any sort of weapon with him. and then she did something that never in his worst nightmares had he dreamed she would do. she just reached out and took aholt. she did. our curtisene grabbed a hold, and then she commenced to twisting. she got both hands on his merchandise, and she twisted - in opposite directions at the same time with as much force as she could muster.

apparently, it was sufficient. her attacker beat her about the head and shoulders and struggled frantically to get free of this death grip, but curtisene was on him like all those time-honored phrases you've heard all your life - white on rice, duck on a june bug, and so on.

so, still holding fast, she drags him, now sniveling and crying, through the house, where her little old deaf aunt is sleeping in peaceful oblivion. he's begging her to let go:

"let go and call the po-leece! just let go!" he's swearing he's dying.

"no, you ain't dying," she says back to him. "i'm trying to kill you, but you won't die."

he promises he'll leave if only she will, please god, let him go.

"fine," she says, "go on then. leave."

he's crying and saying he cain't and how can he when she won't let him go?

to which our curtisene casually replies, "you broke in, didn't you, sumbitch? break out!"

he is wailing to beat the band, and she is dragging him to the front door. she tells him there are three locks on that door that he'll have to open in order to make good his escape. he is pretty much a lifeless heap by now, except for the bawling. she hoists him up to open the first lock. he gets it open and falls back to the floor. "he was starting to wheeze a little by this time," curtisene reported.

he's crying and saying how much she's got him suffering, to which she snappily replies, "how 'bout all that suffering you were fixing to put on me?" she tells him he's got two more locks, if you please. she hoists him up, and he thinks he's out.

"nope. the screen's latched," curtisene tells him.

and up he goes again. and he's sure he's free now. at this point, she later confessed to the jury - in the shyest little voice you ever heard, like she was letting you in on a little secret - "i kinda worked on him a little bit." meaning, if it had been possible to twist his genitalia completely off his body, she would have accomplished that feat at the end of her front porch.

and then she repeated to those assembled her final words to the man: "i'm takin' you to the end of the porch, and then i'm gon' go back in the house and get my gun, and i'm gon' blow your motherfucking head off, you slimy, stanking, low-down piece of shit, you!" as she repeated those words, clear as a bell, in open court, you could feel, in ever living soul in that courtroom, an almost overwhelming desire to stand up and cheer.

what happened to the rapist wannabe? well, he limped off through the bushes, but he wasn't hard for the police to find. especially since he departed buck nekkid and left all his clothes in her bedroom - with his full name written on the labels inside. he was also pretty easy to spot in the lineup: he was the one who didn't stand up straight. he may never stand up straight again, actually. and don't you just know he was a big man in jail, after the truth came out. little-bitty sunday school teacher just waxed his ass.

curtisene lloyd did not get the standing ovation that her testimony so richly deserved - courtroom decorum and all that - but every single person in the courtroom that day went up to her afterward and said, "miss lloyd, i just want to shake your hand."

curtisene lloyd, my hero. i love this woman, the Most Prepared Woman the World Has Ever Known.

i think i am going to name my daughter curtisene. ;D

finished a book! hurrah!! ;D

Alice was faintly amused by his nerves. How nice to make a man tremble. Thank God she was feeling positive today or she'd never have even dared to tip her hat to him, let alone offer him money. She smiled. But then she realized with a pang of regret that it was probably the psychopathic bag-lady attire that was causing him panic.
~ Catching Alice, Clare Naylor.

sigh. say goodbye to 19-year-old spinster. say hello to 20-year-old spinster. oh, that's so sad.

[although, i wasn't born until a little after 2 pm today, so i'm technically still 19 for another, oh, 14 hours, but whatever.]

oh yeah, and happy christmas people.

you know, i don't actually have much to blog about. i don't really know why i'm here. but ooh, it feels so much nicer to type with shorter fingernails.

went to pick up my mother at the airport today. okay, so it was more like, my father went to pick her up and i sorta just tagged along. anyway, looking at her, i suddenly realize where i get my pack rat nature from. so she left for a three week job training thing in oregon with like, one huuuuge fat-ass red suitcase. this thing was like gargantuan. but not only does she comes back with that suitcase already stretching at the seams looking like it's about to burst open from all the crap she's packed in there, she ALSO comes back with a smaller but still just as heavy suitcase and like, this huuuge shopping bag filled with like, i don't know, liquor?! it was heavy. but then, what do you expect when you set a crazy asian lady loose in a state with no sales tax along with lots of other crazy asian ladies as shopping companions? anyway. it's clearly my mother's fault when i pack too much. it's genetic.

that was quite possibly the stupidest story i've ever told on this blog. there was like, no point to it. but now that i'm home, there's like nothing to do. actually, no, that's not true. a week's already gone by and i've been like, out almost every single day. i'm starting to relish the staying-at-home-with-nothing-to-do-but-watch-tv-and-knit feeling. mmm...it's nice. but i can't believe i slept for twelve hours again today. i need to stop that.

la la la...now what? i guess i'll knit then read. ahh...fun fun. ;D