In which I am completely self absorbed, part 72.

I’ve been thinking that my hair, in all its growing-out-ness, has reached new levels of yuck.

Yesterday, I realized that I look like our pal Hillary. I know it’s a good look for Hil, but for Cha Cha? Not so much.

Then, I realized that with just a little more teasing, I could achieve 80s hair nirvana: The Markie Post.

But I’m really pretty low maintenance. So, I just go around with hair that looks like that guy from Bride and Prejudice (which is actually a really great movie, by the way).

The odd thing, though, is that friends have started complimenting my ‘do. Umm? Ok. Thanks.

And I guess my online dating profile photo must not be too hideous. My tag line is “’75 Chevy Impala. Low miles. Runs great.”

Because I am so hot like that.

And last night, at like midnight? Some drunken, not-even-divorced-yet fool sent me a one-line e-mail: “Had your oil changed lately?”

After dowsing myself in Purell, I determined that yeah, I must have it going on – at least at some level.

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