psychologically suspenseful hair

Yesterday morning I woke up feeling crappy enough, and not just because it was Monday (this time - don't get all happy, Mondays...we still have some things to 'talk about'), but then had thoughtlessly looked up into the mirror. [1930s movie trailer piano and cymbals] The shock! [clangittyclang!] The horror! It was like a five-inch-tall Calvin and Hobbs had been building a fort in the forest formerly known as my hair. All. Night. Long.

This morning, employing former years as way beyond blind without glasses/contacts (hooray lasered eyeballs!), I used my Spidey-sense fingertips to calculate the damage. It all felt fine, in texture. Things seemed to be going smoothly, literally. But that's just what it wanted me to think.

No joke - the stuff was straight, smooth, shiny even - and sticking a good four inches up, essentially levitating.

It's still up there. And I can't guess what its next move will be.

On the upside, at least I didn't look like my cousin. [ACTUAL COUSIN]

Yes, someone who's the biggest Mac-snob just got himself a spanking-new laptop and this is his attempt to fill me with envy of its capabilities.

Foolish cousin, I have PhotoShop. Long have my people been warping faces. But we believe in compassion, and bid thee well. Go now, in peace.