I almost never drink at work happy hours. I have a number of reasons for this general policy, but really, they all boil down to one: By not drinking, I can curtail (somewhat) my ability to say or do something stupid.
Yesterday, for some reason, I decided to have a beer. Just one, mind you -- not even enough to be close to drunk -- and yet, the conversation still managed to veer dangerously towards the embarrassing. But that's not really the problem.
The problem is that I got back to the apartment, changed into a t-shirt, went into the bathroom, and cut my hair. All before dinner.
Yep, I gave myself bangs.
I had been thinking about it all week, mostly because when I was at my parents' house, I found some cute pictures of me, as a kid, with bangs. Maybe, I thought, my mom was right for all of these years, and I really do look cutest with a little pixie cut.
Apparently, Katie Holmes's new 'do didn't dissuade me. And neither did all of those years of bad school pictures -- especially the ones where I had cut my own hair, much to my mother's chagrin.
At least now I can cut straight, mostly. And, thankfully, I cut them dry, so I didn't cut them too short. And, as long as you don't really look at it, it doesn't look that bad. What it does look like is that I'm going to have to go to a professional to see what she can do to fix it.