T(hirsty Mer)c gig last night. Fun, good, though end of night had an unrelated smear of bitterness on it.

Came home smelling like cigarettes and cheap whores.

Well, not really, but it seemed like an oddly appropriate way to end the sentence.

Not long after getting home I lost an inch of my hair. Not very visible unless you know where to look.

I kind of accidentally set fire to it.

I was distracted and tired and my hair was in my way and I was carrying some candles because some of the lights had burned out... and I didn't even notice til I heard it crackling and it started to smell bad.

(NB: Yes, as the literature always informed me, burning hair smells very bad. If ever I decide to commit genocide, I sure as hell won't be burning them. Currently I'm thinking just burying them alive, if it weren't so expensive labour wise... poison maybe? oooh, maybe setting them in cement...)

Anyway, when I noticed my hair was on fire I took a large in-breath out of shock and quickly expelled it and extinguished the climbing flames.

But there was a second in there, a definite moment when I considered letting it burn on and devour me, because then I'd have something at least, the fire might never be within me but it would definitely have been around me for a while.

Of course, that was rapidly followed by me realising I would probably not be able to keep quiet long enough for it to do any real damage, and someone would come to my rescue, and then I'd only be left even crazier than I was before.

And we don't want that, do we? Royal we of course darling, I am talking to myself here. And I think that was rhetorical. Is it still rhetorical if the answer is no? Probably not.

Anyway, for this and recent incidents I am starting to expect that a bunch of angry brunettes will break into my house and dye my hair blonde while I sleep. I'm such a traitor to the "smart, sexy" brunette stereotype.

In other news, people are jerks.