WAH! HA!

I just got a haircut. It is AWFUL. I look like a fucking dude. All I wanted was my goddamn mini-mullet cut off and a trim in the front. A TRIM IS NOT TWO INCHES ESPECIALLY WHEN YOU'RE ONLY DEALING WITH FOUR INCHES YOU CUNT!! (Heh. Inches.)

I'm so fucking annoyed. Granted it's probably not much different from what it looked like in May BUT I WANTED TO START GROWING IT OUT.

AND I HAVE A DATE TOMORROW NIGHT. FUCK YOU FUCKBAG.

I can't get a grip this week and the haircut is throwing me over the edge. I even called my therapist Cee today (pre-haircut) and made an appointment for Saturday morning. It's been over a year now since group therapy. I'm not sure when the last time was I had a one-on-one appointment.

I don't know what I'm fucking doing. I really thought I was handling stuff okay this year, but apparently I'm not. I can feel myself falling apart...

Obviously a haircut or my stove fears or a guy or whatever other stupid thing I choose to harp on is all just a distraction from something bigger. BUT WHAT? What could I possibly be dealing with now?? Wasn't the past six weeks enough fucking drama? Why can't I get a mental fucking break?

Ugh. I'd pull my hair out IF I HAD ANY LEFT.

I decided to play with Photo Booth to document this ridiculous mood I'm in. You know what? It totally snapped me out of my funk. It's hard to take myself seriously when I look like this:



Where the hell did my nose go? And whose hand is that?? (Aren't my nails nice now?)

Aaaannd now I'm laughing. Manic depressive giggler, at your service. : ) :