Bollocks

Hair grief. Shit. Now I am not normally the kind of girl who really gives a flying fuck about the way I look, my day-to-day wardrobe normally consists of jeans (sewed by hand), trainers and various t-shirt/jersey/polyprop combos, and my normal hair-style could best be described as either "whitey-fro" or the classic "dragged backwards through a bush" look. However, I actually made an effort. I have unique hair, its not blonde and its not red, its somewhere in between, and its curly, in a ringlet kind of way. It also has no particular cut or style, unless you count "cut at home with my dressmaking scissors cos hahaha I can get away with it" as a cut.
Last night, about 8.30 pm, I was too tired to do any more work, so I went home and soaked myself in the bath for the better part of an hour (and also, was away from uni for more than 12 hours for the first time in God-knows. Left 8.30pm, arrived this morning 9.10am). After the heavenly bath treatment, I parked my arse in front of the fire and watched "Desperado" (v. cool) and with the flattie's hair-straightener iron thing, one hour later, my hair is dead straight, and might I add, looking pretty fucking nice. For some reason, it appears to be a different colour straight than curly, but thats a story for another day maybe. This morning it was still looking good, so off I toddled to uni with my fab hair style. HOWFUCKINGEVER. Thanks to the charming Christchurch smog-fest we call winter, it is severely foggy, and the trees are dripping dew (actually its quite beautiful, but we're focusing on the negative right now). As a consequence, my hair gets all damp, and proceeds to go "BOOF".
Shit.