oh the agony...

You ought to be able to tell by my blurry profile pic that my hair is a lovely shade of magenta. (Or fuchia, if you prefer.)

But damn, is upkeep a bitch.

So I decided yesterday it was time for a touch up, and I went to the cabinet where I keep my hair dye stuff. And I realised that there was definitely not enough dye to cover even what little hair I have, so I took off in my crack piece of crap car (which by the by, needs some gas [still]) to the local Sally Beauty supply, which is where I usually get my damned hair dye.

Come to find out, they haven't got the pigment I usually use. This is how the dialogue with the (incredibly stupid) sales girl went.

Ashley: Hey, can you please check and see if you have any of the Color Jamz* 'kamikaze raspberry' in the back, please?
Sales girl: Um, like, I didn't see any back there, but I can check...
*thirty seconds pass*
Sales girl: We don't have any. Maybe you should go to another one of our stores?
Ashley: *exasperated sigh* Fine.

So I went to the next closest store, which is in all actuality about fifteen miles away, near this nifty Vietnamese market I like to go to. So of course I took a side-stop there, for a bucket of nori (mmmm, seaweed...) and a bottle of ramune, as at this point I was pretty damned certain I wasn't gonna find my hair dye. The sales ladies there are actually pretty cool to my, which is quite shocking, because usually when I go into the vast majority of asian supermarkets they treat me like some kind of leper. So yes. Good times. And I got nori and ramune, which is a plus. Anyway, back to the hair dye thing.

So after my quick jaunt to the store, I took off across the street to the other (fucking) Sally Beauty, only to find out that they don't have it either. And they regard me with kid gloves, because, regardless of the fact that I am/was unfailingly polite, I have pink hair.

This time I decided to be extremely specific (because I assumed [and I was of course correct in my assumption,] that these girls were no different from the chick in the other store, and in fact were fucking fools.), so I walked with a girl over to the display of Color Jamz hair dye (there were several other bottles of odd coloured dye there, just not my particular hue, BUT THEY WERE THERE, DAMNIT), and pointed to the vacant spot where the Raspberry kamikaze hair dye was supposed to be. Keep in mind that the spot where it is supposed to be is very clearly marked as 'Raspberry Kamikaze.'

Suffice it to say I wasn't all that surprised when the girl asked me, in all her valley girl glory, if I was absolutely certain that I had gotten all twenty-something bottles of dye at Sally. And I assured her that I was, indeed sure. And she assured me that I was probably mistaken, and dually insane.

...Well she didn't say so as such, but I was pretty sure that was what she was thinking.

So at this point I gave up, and found some other hair dye that looked about the same as the stuff I normally use, (albeit a bit darker), and walked to the register. The same girl I had spoken to a second ago rang me up, and spent the time while my credit card went through telling me how to dye my hair (put it on your hair, use gloves, put a cap on, put heat on it, leave it on for a while, etc,). I stated at her blankly, because yes, my hair is faded, but it's fucking pink, for the love of the gods, and I think it ought to be really FUCKING clear to her that yes, I KNOW HOW TO DYE MY HAIR. Sweet baby JESUS.

I ignored her the best I could and took off home. When I had showered (because you're supposed to do odd coloured dye with clean hair,) I put on some gloves and started applying the dye-goo to my head. It scared me immediately because it was watery, and the colour of congealed pigs blood (think 'Carrie'.) The junk I usually use is pretty comparable to gel and purpleish. But I figured at this point it was too damned late and just slathered my hair with it, covered it with some Saran wrap (yes, I am sexy,) and proceeded to make ramen so I could eat and sit in front of a couple of episodes of Excel Saga before I had to wash the junk out and go to work.

So time passes, and I wash the junk out, and it looks fine. (Thank the GODS.) My hair even smells a bit of honeysuckle, which of course is a major plus. But yeah. Damnit.

(...I know you were probably expecting some sort of insane climax where my hair turned out orange or something, but that just isn't what happened, so yeah.)

Basically the point of this story is: If you're ever thinking about saying your hair a weird colour, DON'T. Because it is most definitivelymore trouble than it is worth.

(The end)


*Yeah, it has a retarded name, screw you guys, I look fucking fabulous.)