What Do Bad Hair Days, Golf Balls, Fish and Puppies Have In Common?

They all held an integral part of my day yesterday.

                                                                         The blonde disaster  

Once I woke up I dyed my hair with what was supposed to be highlights of a caramel color. Instead, it turned out to be chunks of puke-a-licious blonde. If you know me and my "style" of hair you know two things 1) I hate short hair and 2) I hate blonde hair. I am pale skinned with blue eyes. Blonde hair just doesn't work on me. And with a naturally round face, I need to stick to long luscious locks. Today I have a great $100 appointment to fix my $30 mistake down at Charles Penzone. If this lady tries to cut my hair or make me keep this color, I might freak out. One thing you don't want to do to any woman is fuck her hair up more. The claws might come out.

So thats what happened pre-9am. At 9:15 I went in to Charles Penzone, where I should have gone before for the original hair situation, in order to get a quick eye brow wax. I like going to the Master's because they are quick and keep it relatively painless. Also, they never fuck up. A bad eyebrow wax is almost as bad as a horrible hair-do, although I'd still probably put the hair thing a notch above in the rankings.

After my quick wax, I went home and grabbed my golf clubs and went up to school where I met my Dad. We soon left on an adventure out to Mill Creek Golf Club for a day of 18 holes in the hottest and most pulsing sun of the summer. While I played the worst I have played since the beginning of Spring, I had a great time. Dad and I got a hotdog, chips, and about 20 bottles of water throughout the day. Thank God Dad wanted to get the cart, because if I was carrying my bag in that heat, I might have passed out. The lady at Mill Creek knows my name, from being on the OWU Women's Golf Team, and knew my Dads name from being boss-man of OWU sports; it's always nice going somewhere where the people care enough to learn and remember your name.

Immediately following our three and a half hour golf excursion, Dad and I went and got some bait. With a tackle box of goodies, fresh bait, and five or six fishing poles, we headed to our old next door neighbors house to go fishing in our old pond. Scott and Jana (our old neighbors) weren't home, but told us we were welcome to do as we pleased out there. As I looked around the property, I realized our old back yard was a little smaller than what I remembered. Perhaps this is due to the fact that when we lived there, I was just graduating middle school, but it might also have been due to the fact that the past few years all I have done is fantasize about re-purchasing the property one day and calling it my own. The pool, outdoor changing rooms, and tiki-hut are the highlights of the backyard in my mind, but the huge property, pond, and fact that it backs up to a nature preserve are some awesome draws to the house as well. My cousins and Uncle James came out a little later, and we enjoyed two or three hours of non-stop catch and release. For a while I wasn't fishing, and instead was using my time to put bait on the hooks for the little girls, but after a while (and some constant insistence by my Dad) I found myself using small croppie fish as bait for the bigger bass. I almost caught the monster, but he got off as I was pulling him to shore. Finally I got a bass, who was the biggest of the day, but was by no means the monster. The girls were all catching fish and seemed like they were having a great time. A little later they all took off, and Dad and I went home.

We didn't have much time to lay around before dinner was ready (chicken breasts, broccoli, and rice). Brad wasn't at dinner because he was still up at the Strand showing off his new puppy to all the children and workers. My Mom was literally sitting on the porch after dinner for an hour, anxiously awaiting the arrival of Brad's new addition. Finally, Brad made his way home (after about twenty "where are you, come home" texts from my mother) and we met the new dog, Molly. She got about five different names last night, but I think Molly was the one Brad decided to stick with. Let me tell you about this demon child-- she is a total and complete heathen. Our other dogs were especially pissed off after this Lab-Retriever mutt came into our house and began sniffing their butts, jumping around like an idiot, and chasing them across the room. Molly doesn't understand that she is a lot bigger than Mitzie and Mandy and began trying to play with them immediately. Mandy, who in dog years is about 77, was completely annoyed after about two minutes of the heathen child being in the house. Mitzi took a little longer, like five minutes. That dog better not get into any of my stuff, so help me, or I will literally freak out. It's not like I can put everything my eye-level or higher, because this "puppy" is a freaking dog-size already.

...and that was my day.

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