I pity any hairdresser that gets me as a customer. Today, it was a poor lady named Robin who moved to Alaska from Florida eight months ago. At the urging of my dad, I stopped talking about getting a haircut and actually did it. Usually, this process takes a few weeks -- I need those weeks, too. I learned that today. First, I step into the hair joint and my hairstylist/dresser/cutter/designer/whateverer starts to crow about my loads and loads of thick hair. "People spend so much money to get hair like this!" After I get this latest incident straightened out, I'm going to grow that bitch out and donate to one of those wig groups. But I digress. I'm not very good at articulating what I want in a hairstyle, and people tend to interpret that as conservtism or reticence. Today, I decided I wanted something drastic, and I just got something bizarre. So I went back and asked her to taper because it was a little too Uma Thurman in "Pulp Fiction" crossed with Annie Lennox at any point (except for the total buzz-cut thing). If that means anything to anyone. Long hair story short, it's tolerable now, but she told me to come back for some trimmage in a week or two. For those of you who know her, I was going for something along the lines of Savannah's hair (from second floor) -- it didn't quite work out.

What a way to break the silence, eh? Bitching about my HAIR OH MY GOD etc. As far as general life updates go, I'm okay. The job is good, the family things are as good as they'll get, and so on.

Does anyone know if a Daria DVD set is coming out anytime? And subsequently hitting Blockbuster's shelves? It won't be long before I run out of Cowboy Bebop...

Not dead, but suffering from a slower-than-normal connection. I know, wah wah wah. So...I got a job, thanks to Awesome Toby. I now work at Bear Tooth Theatre Pub, a reasonably hip pizza/movie place. Due to laziness and seeing the people I use this thing to keep in touch with, I think posting will be very light over the summer. But I hope everyone is well and stays that way.

Prefacing: I told myself (and Kyle) that I wouldn't read anyone's livejournal until I got home because it made me miss everyone too much. Unbearably. It made me grumpy and kind of hard to deal with, so I decided to butt out for a little more than a week. Today I broke down and read a few, though, and now I don't know what to think. Will someone fill me in? I keep thinking the worst.

That said, today didn't exactly turn out as planned, what with the ending up in the emergency room and all. I woke up this morning with tear-my-uterus-out bad cramps. Kyle and I trudged over to the dining hall with ibuprofen in our pockets, and sat down to another disappointing meal. I had some breakfasty potatoes, some salad, orange juice, two ibuprofen, and a coffee-like product, but I still felt shitty, shittier by the minute -- dizzy and in severe abdominal pain. When I put my tray into the dish-washing conveyor belt, my cone of vision started to do wonky things. Blackness irised in, and I fainted. I have never considered myself the fainting type -- there's no shrinking Scarlett over here, I tell you what. Nonetheless, I passed out at the crescendo of dizziness and pain. Some guy caught me, and I wish I knew who because he saved me the hassle of a head injury, and I'd like to thank him for that (first typing: "tank him for that.") Apparently, I was only out for a few seconds, but I remember it being longer. Everything was surreal when I woke up. I was dandled from dining hall manager to DPS (campus police/cop in the box) to the EMTs. There was vomiting and unpleasantness all around -- emphasis on all around, as I was still really dizzy and my cramps/abdominal pain was killing me. Two or three friendly EMTs loaded me into an ambulance and whisked me away to Sacred Heart hospital, which is about a five minute walk from campus (even needing Kyle and dining hall lady to help me walk, I felt bad about using an ambulance -- and I'm sure the inevitable bill will have something to say about that.) Once there, Friendly Nurses Kris and Natalie (two names with Anchorage counterparts of whom I've been thinking of) ascertained that A) my blood pressure and heart rate were just dandy, B) NO, I was NOT pregnant (the dining hall lady, the DPS lady, the EMT, a nurse, and the doctor asked me if there was "any chance" of that, C) I could use a steady IV drip of saline and some blood work, and D) that I was all snuggly in my gown and thin blankets (it was cold, and I was shivering anyway), they let Doc take over. Get this: Kenneth Starr, MD. Not the same Ken Starr by a long shot (you think I'd let that guy near me?) -- this Ken Starr was tallish and clearly not enjoying the thought of giving a girl (on the first day of her period) a pubic exam, but examine he did. With the speculum from hell. THEN they took a "cath sample" -- cath...catheter...get it? Never again. After all of that, I gradually stopped shaking, the pain went to a totally tolerable level, and my head stopped doing loop-de-loops. Doc Starr told me that they weren't really sure what was wrong, but it could have been a number of things, most likely dizzines (my official diagnosis) and a helluva cramp. One of the nurses postulated the flu, but the whole affair, from getting up to leaving the hospital took less than 5 hours. My dad, when I called, thought it was food poisoning (entirely likely), and Mom decided dehydration played a role (unlikely, but I'll let her have it). I'm going with a combination of all of these and what Kyle calls "the body hitting the restart button." At any rate, I'm fine now, although a bit more careful than usual. Kyle, by the way, was there the whole time, proving how awesome a girlfriend she is.

This is dead week. Next week is finals week. I'm writing papers and moving out and getting all of my crap straightened out. Just so you all know I haven't been hit by an errant volkswagen.

Gentlemen...BEHOLD! My project is FINISHED!

That's all for the moment.