Whoever is reading 19+ pages of my diary and not signing my guestbook is a freakin' douche.

Note my use of the slang term "freakin'" to amplify the ferocity of the douche.

That's some serious douche action.

Anyway.

Instead of writing a lengthy, Dickens-inspired description of my newly sumptuous brown locks, I'll just show you.

Now, guys form a line to my left for makeouts and ladies form a line to my right for high fives. Please do so in an orderly fashion. It's already chaotic to look this good.

Other than dyeing my hair things at the homefront have been pretty low key. I've just been sitting around, scrapbooking, being awesome. You know. Stuff like that.

I was disillusioned to find that I had not made it to VH1's 200 Greatest Pop Icons list. But it's okay, because I still have a shot at making the It List next year. Look out, Ashton Kutcher. I'm onto you.

But do you know what is really unpleasant? Sneezing and peeing at the same time.

I would tell you to try it out and see for yourself, but I don't wish that kind of uncomfortable-ness upon anyone. Even the meanest, meanest bully in the most terriblest school.

And Lindsay, I think this is more appropriate for Nancy. And I think this one is for you.

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