The story of the roots

Once upon a time, there was a girl with a multitude of different hairstyles. Her hair was long and then short and then curly and then long again. It was blonde and red and purple and brown and chocolate. She liked almost all of her hairstyles except for the pudding bowl one she got when she asked the hairdresser to cut her hair like Red Sonja's. She also didn't like it when the same hairdresser cut her left eyebrow off.
The brown one she liked most of all, but because of her pale nordic roots, it was a pain in the buttocks to maintain. But maintain it she did, for nearly 10 years and all the while she felt very intellectual and noticed she could easily fool people into smart(ish) conversations when pretending to be a brunette. At least she didn't have to flash them quite as much boob.
But the day came when she noted that she wasn't quite happy working a shitty job and paying 120 euros every 3-4 weeks to fool people into not treating her like a sack of weeners. So she asked her fairy godparents (who also happened to be her real parents) to get her the fuck out of the situation. With a wave of a credit card, they did and she was magically transported to Mexico.

In Mexico her fairy godfather told her: "You are pigheaded and plagued by bad spirits and you has Teh Dumb." And to prove his point, he rolled an egg on her head and neck and the egg broke and she was covered in goop and everyone went "eeeeeewwwww".
"See? Bad juju." said the fairy godfather.
"To fix your Dumb, you need to visit one museum in Mexico City per day" he started. "And you have to work hard on something you really enjoy. To fix your bad spirits, you need to wear lots of perfume and ditch the crap (people) you've associated with in the past. Why do you want to hang on to people who have even more Dumb than you do and who have no desire to fix their situation? Your soul is so burdened by sad history and filthy people that your neck is cracking. And since you feel so badly about your body that you feel like hiding it way constantly, we're going to give you these pills that will make you kind of hyper and bleach that hair of yours to get you back to yourself."

So she took the pills that made her only a little bit hyper but otherwise more like she used to feel when she was just a wee little ankle biter and they bleacher her hair though the hairdresser recommended they cut it all off because of colour-damage (but her fairy godfather insisted that rubbing eggs on it would do just as well just as long as she didn't take a sauna with the egg on her head) and she took a good hard look at who the hell she was keeping company with and noticed that her fairy godparents were pretty damn right about how infectious teh Dumb was and so she clicked "unfriend" a bunch cuz thankfully, a lot of the people on her FB account were never really friends of hers. Not when she stopped to think about it. And when she thought about it a little more, she also discovered that the answer to "if we sleep together, will you like me better?" is always "no".

And then she went to a museum with her fairy godparents and altough she felt a little bit lonely (she hadn't had sex in a really REALLY long time), she noticed that her posture was better and she was understanding the art and what she drew better and she kind of liked her damaged hair because the colour was almost her natural one. And her boobs looked pretty good too.

And she felt really really confident that she would enjoy it if nice people would ask her out on dates and that she'd be totally cool even if  they didn't turn out to be the Man Of Her Dreams, cuz let's be honest, she didn't have a type per se and she was pretty darn content to be working on things she liked.




She also felt that it was necessary to mention that she deleted her personal MySpace account (so this is the only place this blog can be found anymore) given that MySpace is a broken pile of ick. Sorry, Justin. I'm not keeping that thing even for you.