I've been thinking that my hair, in all its growing-out-ness, has reached new levels of yuck.
Yesterday, I realized that I look like our pal Hillary. I know it's a good look for Hil, but for Cha Cha? Not so much.
Then, I realized that with just a little more teasing, I could achieve 80s hair nirvana: The Markie Post.
But I'm really pretty low maintenance. So, I just go around with hair that looks like that guy from Bride and Prejudice (which is actually a really great movie, by the way).
The odd thing, though, is that friends have started complimenting my 'do. Umm? Ok. Thanks.
And I guess my online dating profile photo must not be too hideous. My tag line is "'75 Chevy Impala. Low miles. Runs great."
Because I am so hot like that.
And last night, at like midnight? Some drunken, not-even-divorced-yet fool sent me a one-line e-mail: "Had your oil changed lately?"
After dowsing myself in Purell, I determined that yeah, I must have it going on - at least at some level.