So apparently, I am so well prepared for my business plan setup that I forgot how to count and somehow left out Day 19. Oh well, one has to give every year I guess.
While I am on the train back into the city after attending a family affair yesterday night, let me tell you about the fun two friends and I got up to. See, my bestest friend has lovely long hair in a more light brunette color than me, but also with reddish undertones. And while I could never fulfill my childhood dream of copper highlights because my hair is of such poor health it would probably fall out with shock, she decided to really go for it and put some fierce color to it. It was all very boheme art student on a Friday night like, except we didn't smoke and it was a Wednesday. But we did lay out newspapers in her parents' bathroom, put on sweats and band shirts, got a Magnum mini and put a Zeitgeisty songwriter band on the speakers. My other friend got her hands a bloody red (it all resembled a very messy birthing situation) while covering my bestest friends head in the dye and I was super helpful with little wet handkerchiefs to wipe the worst of her neck and ears, while being the annoying aunt who films everything for good memory (If I'm ever short on gifts, it'll be this home video, made with love). I mean, isn't this what dreams of independence are made of? Now we will be able to look back to "that time when we sat on the bathroom floor laughing with red dye everywhere, and worrying a bit while she washes out her hair that it's going to come out too bloody, and her excited shrieks when she realizes she is now a redhead (even though only for eight washing turns)"
Good times, lovelies.
Love,
Rosy Smith
While I am on the train back into the city after attending a family affair yesterday night, let me tell you about the fun two friends and I got up to. See, my bestest friend has lovely long hair in a more light brunette color than me, but also with reddish undertones. And while I could never fulfill my childhood dream of copper highlights because my hair is of such poor health it would probably fall out with shock, she decided to really go for it and put some fierce color to it. It was all very boheme art student on a Friday night like, except we didn't smoke and it was a Wednesday. But we did lay out newspapers in her parents' bathroom, put on sweats and band shirts, got a Magnum mini and put a Zeitgeisty songwriter band on the speakers. My other friend got her hands a bloody red (it all resembled a very messy birthing situation) while covering my bestest friends head in the dye and I was super helpful with little wet handkerchiefs to wipe the worst of her neck and ears, while being the annoying aunt who films everything for good memory (If I'm ever short on gifts, it'll be this home video, made with love). I mean, isn't this what dreams of independence are made of? Now we will be able to look back to "that time when we sat on the bathroom floor laughing with red dye everywhere, and worrying a bit while she washes out her hair that it's going to come out too bloody, and her excited shrieks when she realizes she is now a redhead (even though only for eight washing turns)"
Good times, lovelies.
Love,
Rosy Smith
