"HAIRDRESSER ON FIRE"

Wearing the ridiculous shower cap thing to color a section of my hair this evening made me realize that I'd look okay as a surgeon. Tis a shame I have such little interest in such a pursuit-- I can't even get a flu shot without fainting! Pathetic, isn't it? Yes. Pathetic, but true. I am unafraid of plenty but terrified of needles. Particularly in my inner arm or the top of my foot or the back of my hand. Anywhere veiny. Ack! See? I can't even really say or think "veiny" without getting woozy.

A year ago October, I was in a serious car accident. I was fucked, for the most part, but was keeping my cool in the middle of paramedics and glass and all sorts of shit. Until, that is, "...Start an IV of..." and I came unglued. Now, imagine! I'm calm and trying to focus on the situation and being A Responsible Adult when suddenly a woman with a needle reduces me to not only tears but big, pathetic sobs and gasps and apologies and my eyes rolling back into my head. I wish I could say that I was making this up, but, alas, it is true. I flipped and fruck out until her metal needle was replaced with a plastic one that would have to stay put for a while. The plastic one still hurt my feelings and made me uncomfortable and was torturous, but it was, somehow, better than the metal one. I have no idea why that is, that metal creeps me out so much, but I have come to accept it. When it comes to needles, I'm a total pussy.

What I'm not a pussy about, though, is haircolor! And, in honor of my (shh!) approaching birthday, I am making my stripe magenta. Glorious. And, to keep the color rolling, I painted the office in my apartment green. Something about this birthday seems different, somehow.