Hmm. It doesn't feel like it's been that long since I last posted, but it appears it in fact has. Although compared disgustingly unbusy compared to many, it feels like I've constantly been doing things, important things, or doing a good load of well deserved nothing. Anyhow, you may remember I've been to Hungary to see family. How was my experience? Standard, I'd say. It was tricky remembering to take my pills outside of my normal routine, but taking my mini pill (that's contraception, lads, not a merely diminutive form of an average pill) at exactly the same time as usual regardless of the time difference was more of a... slag.
Whilst I'm on the subject of Hungary, I did have my highlights touched up there and my hair cut. I figured it would be much cheaper, and it was, even despite the hairdresser allegedly regularly featuring in a popular weekly women's magazine with her makeovers. She does make up and everything, so when she complimented me on mine (the elaborate eye-corner swoop is what I presume she was talking about), I admit it felt a little like having my ego stroked... then fondled... and teased... and maybe even caressed, firmly yet sensually (if that's even possible). I was somewhat taken aback, however, by the strange highlighting protocol, namely that I was silently expected to hold the box of foils, which were merely pieces ripped from your average household kitchen foil, and hand one to the hairdresser each time she was ready to foil me up. Unaccustomed to this, I failed almost every time, so I naturally explained my unfamiliarity with the process in an attempt to refute my dumbass appearances. Her response? "So how do they do it in Canada?" I defy any reasonable person to deliver the sentence, "Well, they usually have an equipment cart from which they kind of take the foils themselves" in a way that does not sound patronising or facetious. Well, let me tell you, she was aghast, and so were her colleagues, but definitely more about the wondrous other-wordly technique that I'd explained to them rather than my actual delivery. The most peculiar part of the experience, however, was when she pretty much straddled me whilst working on the front of my hair. I'm sure it's fun when you're used to it (and maybe drunk?), but I've personally never had a woman straddle me, so I admit I felt slightly stilted, but I guess the more perverse (and perverted) part came when she bid fairwell to a couple of clients/friends whilst still working on the front of my hair. Thrusting her pelvis and boobs even closer to my non-breathing face, she proceeded to heartily kiss these clients/friends right over my shoulder, which was the first glimpse I'd gotten of what it might be like to star in a pornographic film. It was... special.
Back on topic, I am mildly aware that I finish my course in, what, a few weeks' time? Sometimes I feel a very fleeting spurt of worry over my course possibly not being long enough (after all, I still have plenty of red marks), but then other times I just give my smooth face a good old stroke in the shower and welcome the warm, satisfied sigh of relief. Speaking of showers, our plughole has been clogged up for a number of weeks now to the point where I feel like I am bathing rather than showering. Enough, at some point, was enough, so I untwisted the stopper thing and went about clearing out all the hair and skank that was stuck down there. I apologise, potentially squeamish readers, but what I found down there could not have been human, even though I sadly know full well that it was. The amount of hair (my hair, God damn it) that I pulled out literally (LITERALLY) could have provided a VERY generous and rich head of hair to, say, a bald toddler. In fact, that toddler would probably have available to it the option of braiding or even dreadlocking. Anyway, I wasn't sure what to do with it, so for a few moments I was gulping back nausea and blinking away tears of disgust before I made it disappear down the toilet.
Right, okay, so I guess I should post a picture in case there has been some kind of magical change with my face since last time. Hmm, I don't know. Maybe I will take one tonight and post it tomorrow or something. I realised that in the past three or four months, I've probably had two or three small blemishes alone. That's pretty impressive, so hopefully these red marks will just sack themselves off sooner or later. Why do they take so stupidly long? And what are these ridiculous little inconspicuous lumps under my skin that have been there since the beginning of my torturous adventure with acne? Meh. I'll have to keep my eye on them.
Arrgh. Sorry about the crappy post. I feel tired and uninspired (although clearly not enough to avoid a nifty little rhyme, tee-hee... arrrrgh).
Oh, but on the bright side (for me), I got accepted to university! Yay! I shall learn once again! Aaaaaand not be able to have a real job again until I'm at least 29. Hey ho.