November 10, 1998.

Took drastic measures (well, not so very drastic, really) and used a cherry shade of temporary dye to turn my hair mahogany. It hides the light green undertones nicely...and should look nice & rich for tomorrow's grad photo. Huzzah.

Did the chick thing and asked Trevor nicely if he'd mind doing it for me. I was a bit surprised that he's only dyed hair once: in the back of my mind, I was ready for the experience of Mr. Blonde, who was always more than eager to dye my hair for me (as long as he could use the leftovers on his 2 mm-long do). For some reason dying my hair brought out the macho in Trevor, and he spent a lot of time speaking in a gruff voice & ever-so-subtly flexing his biceps. A very butch display, which I found awfully cute.

So that's one problem solved. Now if I could only gather the courage to tell my parents that I won't be applying to teacher's college for next year...

Went out to the Cave last night for the first time in more than a month. DJ Shannon was in fine form, playing "Debaser" by the Pixies, "Release the Bats!" by the Birthday Party, lots of Siouxie and the ubiquitous "Groove is in the Heart." She also played "My Sharona," "Oh Mickey" & "I Love Rock & Roll," songs I know primarily from their parody versions on Weird Al Yankovitch's 1st album. Yes, I used to be a huge Weird Al fan...you can quiz me on lyrics to the first 6 albums, as I listened to them so often that it'd probably take a full frontal lobotomy to have me forget 'em. (One might argue that knowing lyrics to 6 Weird Al albums is all the frontal lobotomy I'll ever need, but they can just shut up.)

Javina showed up with a date, so we had another brief chance to bond. We seem to be over the worst of the initial shyness, and full into the territory of girlie secret sharing. Coo-el...I can count my RL girlfriends on one hand these days. And I don't even need to use my thumb.

I had a really good time, despite 2 really weird pick up attempts (the first was a traveler who smelled strongly of vomit & kept igniting his lighter an inch away from my mouth, as if to accommodate an imaginary cigarette; the second made 3 seconds of small talk & then asked what I was doing afterwards - to which I coyly replied, 'going home to my boyfriend, but thanks for asking.') I've been dressing down on dancing nights for 2 months...I don't know how desperate these guys must be. The dancing was prime, as it occasionally is not. I'm getting a real sense of the regulars' style...there's some really attractive dancing going on there, including a dreadlocked guy who seems to ripple in several directions at once, a black girl who dances well to everything including the really goth stuff, and a couple of old-school punk/goths who've mastered the "don't touch me/please fuck me" style of dancing.

A good night. A night of sweaty, good feeling, and not too much disco. Excellent.

one year ago today: if snot were money, i'd be rich