Red Is the New Brown

I just allowed my racist hairstylist (yes, I still visit her--we've reached a compromise: she makes bigoted comments and then I get to interrogate her about why she believes the things she says) to put red stripey highlights in my hair.

I can't decide if I look hella cool or like a college professor with red stripes in her hair. I caught someone staring at me in the grocery store, but that might have been because I walked up to the meat counter and announced in my microphone voice, "PLEASE GIVE ME FIFTEEN TO TWENTY DE-VEINED SHRIMP." And then I repeated "deveined" 9,000 more times just to show off to the old woman in the motorized Shopping Weasel that I know it's not dev-vee-end. Duh. Do you think I'm stupid, Lady?

I haven't gotten much work done because I've just photographed my hair from multiple angles and then texted pictures to everyone I know with the message, "Do I look like ass?" So far, I've only received a response from my mom who called to say, "I saw someone with red-striped hair on American Idol," which, of course, does nothing to answer the fundamental question: do I need to shave my head now?

Seriously, I'm sure I would have a successful scholarly publishing record if I were bald. Instead, I have three unfinished articles; nine ungraded papers; one unplanned class; and forty gatrillion unanswered emails. And my hair is still red-striped.

Gah.