So a couple of times this week, I have done some very Lisa-like things....

And then.....

But today...I have nothing to blame it on. 

I desperately need to dye my hair. My gray power patch has been fierce as of late, and the rest of my hair is 50 Shades of Calico Cat. 
I have the hair dye. Same ol' brown as usual. 
I know the routine, I have done it many a time. 
Apply the protective serum, mix the dye tube in with the bottle, apply, wait, rinse, apply provided conditioner, complain that I don't like the color. 
The usual. 

After I mixed it all up, I applied to my roots, waited 5 minutes or so, then applied to the rest of my hair. 
Now I wasn't paying THAT much attention, I could do this in my sleep. 
I was mostly complaining to Scott, who was in the shower, about how much can ONE person fart ALL THE TIME, and then claim that they didn't? Seriously? My sense of smell is keen. 
Anyway. 
I notice the mixture is doing a weird thing, it normally squeezes right out of the bottle, and I was having to squeeze so I could let air in to come out. 
I am sure that has a scientific term. 
So I finished, and there was still about 1/4 left in the bottle, so I may as well put it on there. 
I squirt some in the glove, and it looked unusually.......albino. 
Are you picking up what I'm putting down? 
Yeah. 
Instead of the dye, I had mixed in the conditioner. 
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I mean they are even numbered, ya'll. 

My hair is very soft. 
And still a sketchy gray/brown mixture. 
Meow. 

I wish I could blame this on sinus medicine. 

So just a quick blog on how absolutely HI-larious I am. 

Scott loves bologna (I have to spell it baloney, it looks funny the other way).
He could literally eat it every day. 
He loves it fried, but sometimes he will just stick it in the microwave for a minute or so to get it warm and the edges crisp. 

He bought the same brand, same thickness, same everything. 
He puts it in for the same time, same plate. 

All I hear when he takes it out, can only be compared to a squealing tribe of howler monkeys that are on fire. 

His baloney....was in the shape of a bowl. 

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Now we are both dramatic people, especially when it comes to food. 
This was hilarious. 
He was jumping up and down, flailing his arms about. 

When he finally calmed, I suggested we call it......

Bowl-oney.

BOWL-ONEY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

My face:

Scott's face:

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You wished that you lived with us.