Sup bra.

I just watched The Machinist. Holy Jesus.

Anyway.

I fought the system man. My hair is now darker and choppier than even the darkest and choppiest of my brunette friends, and I don't even care what my mother is going to say, or the fact that it is summer and that I should look like Malibu Barbie because US Weekly says so.

I've got a big weekend ahead of me. My silly brother is actually getting married. Poor girl. (I'm only half kidding, really.) But yay. Parties and people and family and fun. I should be looking more forward to the time ahead, but somehow the routine of packing always throws me into a frantic rage. (The over-night trips are the worst, let me tell you.) I mean, it's 2:00am. My suitcase is half empty and strewn across the bed, and I'm supposed to be leaving in oh.. I don't know, a few hours?

At least I have my cowboy boots.