Right now I'm sporting a super short blondish- redish (needs-a-dye-jobish) hairdo that makes me look like June Cleaver. Slap on some pearls and you'd never notice the difference.

Dear GOD, I love wigs.

And let's hear it for the BONUS: this baby was 3 dollars! Three! Museum quality wig for THREE LITTLE DOLLARS! So, NO, it DOESN'T matter if in a few weeks this wig ends up in the back of my closet to be forgotten until Halloween. Sigh. I love it.

And how can you not have fun with a wig? I'm sitting at work right now, and I like how it makes everyone smile and laugh, whether it's with me or at me (with the exception of Joe, who just shook his head and walked away. Poo him tho, I still loved him when he went throught that "I don't want to cut my hair EVER" phase. Grrrr). If it takes a wig to make this last hour go by faster, then dammit, I'm all for it. It's kinda itchy though. Scratch scratch.