Warning: This Post is about Glossy Hair

Let me warn you again - this post is not going to venture into interesting territory at all.  It's about hair.

So, NEWSFLASH, I went into Woden Plaza in Canberra at lunchtime today to pick up some of my fave thermal heating protection hair product thingy stuff which is so genius that you could glide within a kilometre of the sun without your hair even knowing the difference.  I would be slightly singed, or - worst case scenario - completely obliterated, but my hair would be all chill and in tiptop shape.  The product is almost practically that good.

Alas, like any superior spaceflight product that can protect the man who is going to the moon via the sun, sometimes the shop just runs out of titanium, and there is nothing you can really do about it.  And guess what, fascinated readers?  They were all out of my product today.  And then the hair care assistant forced me to engage in banal, insipid hair talk about the importance of thermal sprays. 

And then she went all parallel universe on me and made me feel like a superficial loser by asking me if I would like her to call another store to get it sent over urgently or something.  Um, no I'm good.  I told her my hair will somehow, someway have to go on without it for a few weeks.  I think she was mocking me as I was mocking her.  It was one of those terribly awkward, uncomfortable moments you have with someone who is taking the topic of conversation far more seriously than you are. 

And then I felt like I would offend her sensibilities if I just chose a cheap inferior product instead, as a bridging capability for my hair until my product is restocked, so I went out empty handed, and feeling slightly empty-headed.  Plus I think I already have a cheap, inferior backup somewhere.  Fascinating day, I know. 

Anyway, I talk of hair because I have been wondering how Miss Katie, the Duchess of Cambridge and winner of the royal bachelor lotto (left), gets her hair so wonderfully glossy like a horse's mane.  Horse wig glossy.  I don't mean to sound cold - I very much like Kate - but her hair is abnormally sheeny. 

A few years ago my hair was abnormally sheeny too, as I was using a product that contained specks of gold or unicorn dust or silkworms or something.  I don't know what was in that shit, but my hair glowed like Chernobyl.  And doesn't every girl want her hair to glow like a nuclear explosion? 

On a brighter note for us girls, Kate's hair doesn't always glisten.  Sometimes it just looks like normal hair (right). The horror. 

Bad 'Air Days

I don't blog about the weather very much; primarily because it is not interesting enough in Canberra.  Perhaps if we had a hurricane I could fill up a blog post.  To be honest, the weather is just a natural phenomenum created by God to give boring people something to talk about.  But something weatherish needs to be addressed.  It's all about my hair, really.

Bob Brown couldn't care less about my hair. I know he doesn't care because he's not ranting and raving in the Senate about the radical increases in wavy, unruly hair caused by dangerously high levels of humidity that threaten the very fabric of our society. Threaten our democratic values; our whole way of life.  The whole structure of our hairstyles. 

If left unchecked, this humidity has the power to make us look like dweebs for days on end.  Someone needs to do something!  Where the hell are the idealistic youth when you need them?  Oh, they're all on Facebook?  Maybe we'll need to get them to stop poking each other and start up a ban humidity page; that should do it.

We need to stop pouring money into this so-called man-made global warming (sorry, climate change), and start trying to eradicate the scourge of humidity or we are all doomed - DOOMED!  My stupid anti-humidity spray doesn't work when it has to deal with real humidity, of the type that Canberra is currently being exposed to.  I used to have useful anti-humidity hair goo, but the product was DISCONTINUED. 

I hate when you get to know a product, and you rely on it, and trust that it’ll always be there for you, and then the stupid company discontinues the product. And you are left bereft, with no hope to maintain humdity-free hair without resorting to a strange product whose effectiveness is a mystery to you.

I really can't tolerate any more bad hair days.  What we really need to do is find is patient zero in this unfolding crisis, so we can put them into a nuclear bunker type environment, or bus interchange locker if we're pushed for choice, so they stop spreading the scourge of humidity. 

And now - the wind!  Usually the wind stays in the naughty corner, that being South-East Australia; or Melbourne, more precisely.  But it's here.  The fucking wind.  I wish the weather would pull itself into line.  Sheesh.