Earwigs. What gives? Why are they still so disgusting and scary to me? Forever, I have been terrified of them. I wrote a series of zine articles about them when I published my zine, cul-de-sac, my favorite being a story from when I worked in a public library in Madison. A woman came up to me and asked for info about earwigs. I told her I was sort of an expert, since I was so afraid of them. She pulled me aside, and in a thick, East Coast accent asked me, "Will they go--" For which I promptly interrupted her and said, "No, they won't go in your ears. That's a myth." To which she said, "No. Will they go in my pubic area?" Hee hee. Anywho, the whole point of that was that there was an earwig in my bed last night. Matt caught it before I could see it, but still. Nightmares all night long.
In other news, I got my hair highlighted today. I have some grays, and I thought highlights would be a nice way of covering them without committing to coloring all of my hair all of the time. It looks nice, but I still see the grays! Why didn't the colorist make it a point to seek out all 27 of the gray hairs and paint them individually? Did I need to pay extra for that or something?
Even though I have never watched John and Kate Plus Eight, I feel icky about their divorce. Even ickier than I feel about her hair.
So how many of my blog readers are going to ALA this year?