My hair colour looked great, except the roots had begun to yellow. I went in to get it fixed, and the hairdresser said, “we will have to go a little bit darker.” No problem, right? WRONG.
The hair is brown, brown, brown, the fringe is huge, huge, huge, and I am attempting to drown my sorrows with good Ukrainian beer. Since I went home shortly after my hair was ruined and all.
I told my brother that we must look serious, and tragic, as hair has been ruined for at least a few weeks. The result was this:
I guess we’re just too happy about Bush finally being done and all. If only Victor Yuschenko would get hip to the exciting trend.
Kiev is nice and snowy. My father’s 55th is this Saturday, and my mother and I shopped for presents today in eerily empty stores. I even found an eerily cheap shoulderbag, but decided to save my money for the time being. More money – more beer.