Anyways, I've been scanning in some relatively ancient photos, since I've been up til 1 AM and all. My methods for scanning are this: stick hand in giant basket of unorganized/undated photos, pull out fistful, and scan whatever appears in my ravaged clutches. I'd say in a good 75% of photos I've found, I've been wasted. Yay '90s!
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D: Today's beauty tip: Don't take a Tylenol PM and then polish your toenails. Trust me.
Me: Do we not recall the drunken hair bleaching of '97? Or maybe it was '98? Whatever. I feel yr pain.
Let's not discuss my photoshopping a truly awesome smiley dinosaur head onto my face. Let us all focus on something else entirely: HINT- I'm wearing some sort of dog collar/choker. Okay, and the fact that my noggin makes Tara Reid's colorist look like a Mensa leader. Are you dying inside along with me? Are you wondering where my true friends were, friends that should have staged some sort of alcohol/hair product intervention? Me too. Bitches.
6 comments:
chokers are the most inappropriate form of jewelry ever. every time i see one, inexplicable rage wells up from deep inside of me. but i too have made the mistake of wearing them, so it's all good.
chokers are the most mind-blowingly stupid accessory in the universe. I really have no excuse. but in all honesty, I'm pretty sure this pales in comparison to other fashion stunts I pulled.
I kind of miss chokers.
kriston, no one misses chokers.
or babydoll dresses, for that matter.
.
.
.
okay, maybe some people miss those.
You should be glad it was just a wayward hair bleaching. During my time at Punk As Fuck Virginia Commonwealth University, these things never ended in hair bleachings. They ended in septum piercings.
at first, i read that last line as "scrotum piercings" and I was like, duh, dude.... what DIDN'T end in scrotum piercings back then?
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