It's a bit Touch & Go

Our stolen internet connection, I mean.

"All is well in the world," I say with a lopsided grin and eyes tinted with panic.

Friday and Saturday was the 8-stake Snow Activity in Los Alamos. I was grateful to be driving my ugly PT Cruiser mini-hearse mini-mommy-mobile (and I LOVE IT that way!) because it fit 4 girls so much better than my Beetle did last year. I believe we made to LA in record time, but that tends to happen when you are consistantly going 80 mph on a 55 mph road. Kelly and I were playing leapfrog the whole time (stupid boys -- I was the caravan leader! You don't drive in front of the caravan leader! That's why they're called the LEADER).
But Friday night was a great deal of fun. Everyone signed in and got their room assignments, I was with the girls I drove up with plus 1. Dinner was enchiladas, which I thought were amazing, but seemed to be a bit hot for everyone else. Then we had an ugly sweater contest (and I never thought I'd see the horrors...) and played tug-o-war.
The Tug-o-War was the highlight of the indoor stuff. First it was University Branch v. West Mesa, then University v. Everyone Else. Then WM girls v. University girls, then Girls v. Guys. University did well in each round (and I say that as a good loser) except for the fact they CHEATED with the girls, because there were some dudes pulling that rope! ...Unless they have very hairy women in their branch. Which would explain why the marriage rate in that branch is so very low, as opposed to the great West Mesa Branch's numbers.
When it came to Girls v Guys, we were all set to go. I was at the end and had the rope tight around my butt (secret weapon) and all the girls had a firm grip. As soon as the whistle was blown and the guys yelled, "PULL!" the girls let go. There was a huge *THUD* as guys fell against the wall. It was pretty sweet. I don't mind losing for that. I wish it was YouTubed... Oh well.
Then we went to the outdoor ice skating rink and it was lovely. It was a bit warmer this year than last, so there were less folks trying to "warm each other up," which also meant less relationships began this year, but that's alright. I don't care. Everyone seemed to be having a good time except for one fella, "Mic" who seemed downright miserable. I would have gone up and asked him what was wrong, except for the fact everything I do that is anything above Ignoring is interpreted as Head Over Heels In Love.
Other'n that, ice skating was a blast. A few people from WM branch said that we ought to do this as a branch activity sometime, since it's OH SO FUN. We'll let the FHE committee do something about it.
We went to the hotel around 12:15 and I was asleep by 12:45. I hear there were some idiots running up and down the halls banging on doors, and my roommmate chewed them out (good for her). I hope that other guests didn't have a hard time sleeping that night and there weren't any complaints. This is a good activity, but I wouldn't blame the hotel for not renting to us again next year with the shenanigans pulled this year and last.
And some brilliant kids decided to go dancing at a bar. Fabulous! Except for the part where they brought an UNDERAGE person with them, and got the whole lot kicked out. Seriously, Mormons at a bar?! What were you thinking?! Or should I ask, WERE you thinking?
Saturday morning was fine, as far I could tell. Breakfast was a fabulous buffet, so no complaints there. Until they ran out of forks, which was awkward for Melon Girl, since she had to eat with a knife. Mic was mad-dogging me the whole time, which I just didn't get.
As my roommate and I were about to get on the elevator to go, I saw Mic and I told him about the dream I'd had the night before, where he and I lived in El Salvador and he was eating soup. (I didn't tell him about the gun fight.) And he just cut me off and walked away. Obviously angry at me. Oh well. No skin off my nose. As my roommie and I were getting off the elevator, Mic comes up to me and says, "I stopped having dreams about you when you said you didn't want to see me except at church." Like it was supposed to hurt me, or sting, or something! Ha, nice try kid, you aren't equipped to play that game. So I cheerfully replied with, "I KNOW! That's what made it so crazy! Have a good day!"
Oh, and the snap back fired. Sorry dude, you can't make me feel bad for doing that, it just won't happen. Partly due to the fact that I am an android and completely unable to feel sorrow or regret, but mostly due to the fact that I am annoyed by you.
So. Yes. Saturday breakfast was great. As my roommate and I were walking down the hall, I leaned to her and asked, "He dreamed about me?" She laughed, since she's in the same boat as I am when it comes to Mic. Better me than her, I suppose.
She and I came home after breakfast, rather than go sledding with the group. And I'm glad. It was amazing, the drive up took half a tank of gas, but the drive home only took not even a quarter. ...God loves me.
So on Saturday, my roommates decided to help me and do a good deed for me and assist with stripping the black out of my hair so we could dye it brown. It didn't go well AT ALL. The stripping product only stripped a blob on the top of my head and lightened some of my tips. So I had a big white/blonde/orange THING on the top of my otherwise raven-black head, with some red/orange tips. I'm quietly freaking out (because this is my HAIR!) but assuring my girls that "it's okay, it's only hair, i've had worse than this done to me before...". Except it WASN'T okay. I was on the verge of Hulking out and smashing things while I scream. (The only thing that stopped me was the fact that the last time I did that they had to bring in the military and it was a big mess.)
We get the dark brown dye and color my hair, only to find that "we" have missed a few spots. Fabulous. I have black/brown/ORANGE hair! They take me out to dinner and buy me another box of hairdye and when we get home, color my hair again. My new nickname should be TwoTone, because THAT'S WHAT MY HAIR IS! But the girls assured me that you couldn't tell and that it looked okay, and only in the light could you notice a difference if you were looking for it. Yeah, I still didn't feel better.
I texted my bff Jim and on Sunday he said he couldn't tell. But he's a boy, so that didn't help. Even though he's a pro at color matching, he's still a BOY and just doesn't get it. After church he and I went to a superbowl party where my friend Iwalani was, and she's going to school for cosmetology, so if anyone could help me with my hair, it'd be her. She said she couldn't tell the difference either. I felt a lot better. Almost, almost, almost on the verge of letting it go.
Then I get home. And I'm brushing my hair, checking it out in the light to see what Nani and Jim saw. Oh, I saw a lot more than they did. I saw... ORANGE. Yeah. A good chunk of my hair is brown, but I still have orange spots.
I'm officially freaking out again. I'm just going to let it go for a couple weeks, then I'm going to buy two boxes of blonde and start over. AAAAAAAAAUGH!