Kissing techniques

The hair is taking on a life of it's own. It's like wearing a wig made of guinea pig hair- one of those long haired guinea pigs with multiple crowns. Rinsing it only helps for about a day now.

I was looking up a tutorial on paper cutting on youtube and came across this gem of video about how to get someone to kiss you:

 

I suppose that plying your love interest with booze isn't SUCH bad advice. But coming out with sexual innuendos?? Mad. No lesbians would go for that.

Excessive washing

I'm washing a crazy amount. Two showers yesterday and I still had one this morning. I just had to- the hair was so, SO disgusting. But once I feel I have achieved a minimum level of decency I really am past caring about the way the hair looks and feels. I'm just used to it now. I did have a nice fantasy today about that first hair wash- I gave some real thought to what shampoo and conditioner I'd use. I was even thinking about washing it twice... 

It's hard to concentrate on this blog post because there is dog outside howling and I can hear my mum shouting "shut up!" incresingly angrily to it from her bedroom window.

Jack actually thought that he'd done a good job when I asked him to take a photo of me...

Sunday

Today was another hardcore day of cooking. Yesterday I made 30 sausages and baked two gammon knuckles and didn't even have time to have dinner. Today I ate the gammon with a barley and leek concoction I devised, with a single scotch egg made from the leftover sausage meat for pudding. And then later I whipped up 12 little cakes with cream cheese icing.

As you can see I still look like arse. But I did have a hangover from consuming 15 drinks in the space of two hours on Saturday night. Every single one of my drinks contained red bull as well so I was up for a good few hours after I got home, on my own- really fun!  

Sausages

Is the hair greasy or is it dry? I brush it slick to my head but then when I flip it around it's like a mass of wire wool. Today I made sausages and it took about 5 hours. The guardian's recent feature on how to make your own sausages not only compelled me to buy a mincer with sausage-making attachment but also tricked me into thinking that sausage-making would take about half an hour. In addition John Lewis accidently replicated my order so now I have two mincers with sausage attachments. I would give the second one to someone else for Christmas but I can't think of another person on the planet who would appreciate it. When I went to a car boot sale last weekend I also saw for sale the identical cast iron mincer and had an overwhelming urge to buy that one too. It seems the only things you really get excited about when second hand shopping are the things you already own. Anyway here's me making sausages- far too many for one household to consume.

Early night (Friday)

Running out of things to say about the hair to be perfectly honest. It looks bad. If only I could remember not to take my make up off before taking the photo. Jack was actually lying beside me in bed at this point and I did take a couple of photos with him in the background. But he got so furious at the thought that the wider world might see him tucked up in bed like a baby that I haven't dared post them.

Lucky it's snowing

My dandruff has turned into a white powder so fine that it is making my hair look grey at the roots. I have endeavoured to take as informative a photo as possible this time. Note the white flakes, but also the overall greyish colouring to the hair.

I received another furious onslaught from my dad at dinner. Apparently his hairdresser told him that what I am trying to do is impossible and a waste of time. He also said that he had wanted to invite me to his office christmas drinks (he works at a grand auction house) but he simply COULD NOT have me there looking like this. He also said that the fact my boss tells our authors is because he is WARNING them. He even tried "you're 26 now, you should be a bit more mature". I took great pleasure in telling him I was thinking of launching the blog to a wider readership and had another good scratch. He is livid.

Bikram

This evening I went to a Bikram yoga class with my friend Soph. This is where you do 90 minutes of yoga in a room where the heating has been turned up to 40 degrees. Dear lord. Within 1 minute of the class starting I thought I was going to vomit and faint, and I had to sit down. It was frighteningly hard. Almost every movement made me feel faint so I'm not actually convinced I did any exercise at all. And in the 'rest' periods you have to fight a rising panic and listen to your pulse thundering in your ears. One guy became so delirious they couldn't get him out of the room.

It was so sweaty that throughout the class I could hear the constant pitter patter of people's sweat dripping onto their yoga mats. And for a blissful 90 minutes I was sweating so much that no one knew I hadn't washed my hair for three and a half weeks.