Melty Hair

Ya'll, the Housewarming BBQ was so much fun and went off with not one hitch unless you count the thunderstorm which drove our guests into Spider Town (aka the garage) and the food turned out to be delectible and we had more than enough beer for the masses (and nobody even drank wine, so I've got, like, an entire case of it ALL TO MYSELF) and most of our good buddies were able to make it to the party and they brought me even more wine and they brought Gray beer and we were given several very thoughtful gifts and complimented endlessly on the work we've done to the house and we got to spend some time with the fascinating new neighbors and their hyper-verbal children and everybody had a great time despite the massive thunderstorm which rolled overhead no more than 3 seconds after Gray lit the bonfire...

...in fact, we had such a great time that I should have known I was going to pay dearly for my contentedness and relief. Such is the life of a pessimist. So it goes.

So in preparation for Gray's annual family reunion on Saturday, I was drying my hair using a round brush like I've done every single morning for the last 8 million years, except this time because I owed a debt of contentedness and relief to The Universe, and probably because my blow dryer is 5 years old, instead of my hair winding up dry, it wound up melted.

And when I realized I smelled burning hair, I started to panic and thrash my head about this way and that, and then I got really close to the mirror, close enough to realize my pores are getting bigger (WTF?) and that's when I saw the dark circle in my hair.

It was about the size of a dime, and in my head I went NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO and I'm pretty sure out loud I went, "No no no no no no no no no no no!" and then I brought my arm up to touch the dark circle and I could hear all the demons of hell cackling and I could smell the brimstone that awaits me in the afterlife, and my arm was all moving in slow motion and I had time to think, "Dude, my eyes are REALLY big right now".

And when finally my trembling fingers reached up to touch the dark circle of my melted hair, they jostled the melted area and it all fell away from my head in clumps and tiny little frizzes, and my life flashed before my eyes and then I died.

These are what I call my Eyes of Displeasure. They fit nicely within the Face of Displeasure, something I've been wearing all weekend, thanks in part to my $1,000 in unexpected emergency car maintenance.

Thanks, Universe. And by "thanks", I mean "Fuck you".