Crazy Pants and Weave

"What's Up, Crazy Pants"... that is, verbatim, how I was greeted not once... not twice... but three separate times today. Twice at work when I walked in, and also when I got to the gym after work. I guess you can't expect to fly under the proverbial radar when you walk around with a bouquet of flowers plastered on your ass, huh?

I haven't worn these pants since I got them in April. They are not an item you can get a ton of wear out of (clearly), but they sure are fun. Plus, I think I paid about $20.00 for them, so I feel like I got the deal of the century on them (even if I do only wear them a few times a year). Two different people thought I got them at Anthropologie (where the cost of pants is, on average $120). Is it bad that I didn't correct them? That I derived some sort of weird joy in these people thinking that I spent five times what I did on them (when in reality I got them on my trusty Target clearance rack)? I didn't lie... I just didn't feel the need to correct them. I'm not sure why I did that, but I totally felt like I got away with something. I walked away with a saunter.... an expensive pants swagger, if you will.

Random... but I can't seem to take my hair out of this slicked back bun. The length that it is at is infuriating. It is not short... it is definitely not long, it's in the dreaded shitty stage where all it does is go the direction it is not supposed to go. I always make impulsive decisions, and rarely do I regret them, but I may just have to put cutting my hair in the "regret" pile. I'll probably throw in some extensions/weave soon (not like 2 feet of hair or anything cray... but a little somethin' somethin'). I'm bored to tears with this bun. I want to burn this bun. Even if it is on my own head.