I have the worst hair during PMS (premarital stress)

Today's Zodiac: Alot of people will piss you off because you already have a million things going on. DO NOT let anyone touch the hair yourself or any loved ones! Don't drink and draw.


I took Celia to her last "music class" last night. Thank God. A bunch of moms sit cross-legged on the floor singing and rocking like autistics, supposedly with their kids on their laps. In reality, the kids run around like drunken monkeys tearing stuff apart. Then they get plastic eggs full of rice to shake and fight over, later assorted instruments, and finally tambourines. All the while, a women speaks/sings slowly on a tape deck. If I hadn't paid in advance, I wouldn't have gone 7 times. At least last night we didn't get the puke room. Good times. I took Celia for a haircut and her adorable little hairdo, which only needed a little touchup, was butchered. Her bangs sort of zigzag around her hairline. Right before family Christmas, and our wedding. Sometimes she looks like a prime candidate for the Sunshine bus. Especially when she wears nothing but a diaper and one mitten. So proud. I was so upset I went to the hairdressers and tore her a new asshole. I didn't yell, it's not my style. The bitch argued with me about what I want and offered to fix it. She kept trying to convince me I wanted it layered. I won't allow her to touch Celia's golden locks ever again! The day before that I spent $180 and an entire day at the hair salon to find out my hair can't be dyed. FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK. The last 2 days I spent fighting with Amazon. I went to the doctor and refilled my valium prescription. I figure the closer I get to the wedding the more stressed I will be. If that's even possible. Maybe it's just the anticipation-stress before the Vernon-stress which I'm sure by now everyone's familliar with. I know it's not totally sane, but I CAN NOT deal with Celi's hairdo. I can't! I feel like I haven't seen Ken in weeks except for the occassional shouting of "Moose Knuckle!" from the living room. I don't suppose I mentioned my estranged step-father of yore decided to call my mom and ask about my wedding. Perhaps, he'll stop in. Sure. Great. Just what I need. This man is not horrible, that would involve a little motivation. He's weak, whiny and must have left his balls in a public bathroom sometime in the 70s. I have dealt with my anger towards him a long time ago and now I'm left with indifference and perhaps the slightest bit of bitterness. It would be nice to have contact with my stepbrothers again.
We'll see.

For Ken