So this weekend was the first weekend of redhead Natalie.  The BEST thing about red hair is that your hair is actually, like, a COLOUR, so you can incorporate it into your outfit.  When my hair was brown, it was just “there”.  Now, I get to play with clashing and complimentary colours!  HOORAY FOR CRAZINESS!

Saturday I chose to wear green.  Green and orangey-red hair look nice.

WHAT?  Is that an exposed midriff?  Yes.  It is.  I’m SO CRAZY.

Two things to note about this outfit:

1. Note how white and disgustingly translucent my ribcage is compared to my arms and legs.  I now have a bright red stripe across my stomach from sitting out in the park with no sunscreen.
2. I guess I looked PRETTY GOOD, because a middle-aged old man with a potbelly, old “jump rope for heart” T-Shirt and a pair of LEATHER PLEATED PANTS with a matching leather karate-tied belt came up to me in the park.  After creepily standing behind me and staring at me for about 3 minutes, he said “You are just beautiful!  Can I take you out for dinner?”  

Ya.  I’m pretty attractive to the men. 

They were having a dog wash for charity in the park called Paws for the Cause.  Molly got a wash. 

I felt sorry for the very nice girls who were washing her, because she had just taken a dump and there was DEFINITELY some residue on her bumular area…

All clean, Mommy!

P-Hops and Tami came over for some delicious homemade salad-melange at night.

And I invented a recipe for super-duper-delicious fried chickpeas!

Molly got mad at me because we stayed up late watching Pride and Prejudice.  She really wanted to go to bed:

Sunday I headed out to the East end to do some vintage shopping for a SICK EVENT THIS WEEKEND. 

Time to clash-it-up good with my red hair and a hot pink dress! 

IT WAS SO HOT OUTSIDE.  The streetcar was a frigging disgusting sweat-lodge.  Plus, three empty streetcars passed me while I was waiting in the hot, hot sun on the east end.  Why were they empty?  Because for some stupid reason, all three were turning up Parliament and across College.  So of course the next streetcar was JAMMED with sweaty, stinky people who wanted to travel across Queen.  Go figure - people want the streetcar to follow the grid, instead of taking fucked up detours for no reason.  FUCK.

BUT, I met the cutest little jack russell puppy on the streetcar.  He couldn’t resist turning around and trying to lick me.  Look at those paws!!

Swan’s smoked arctic char and a glass of Viogner for dinner…

…and it’s Monday.

Awwwwwwwwwwww yeah.  You know it.  Decided to dye my hair red on impulse last week.  I’m thinking it was largely due to the soul-crushing depression I was feeling… it just seemed like I needed an intense change.  NOW.

Here I am waiting for the whole process to start.  SO EXCITED.

So, I’ve been darkening my hair for like YEAAAARS, so the poor hairdresser had to strip all the old dye out, which was a pretty big feat.  Once she put the stinky stuff on my head and put me under one of those old, 1950′s robot-dryers, it came out all orangey:

Then the dye!  Guess which colour is mine:

Here I am getting my hair all blowdried and pulled and curled, etc.  I never really thought I could pull off a center-part, but I figured that, if I’m ever going to do it, it might as well be today!  The day of the CRAZY-NATALIE!

WHAAAAT!!!???  Who is that 1970′s ginger supermodel??

This is all you get today.  My depression-based ugliness is exponential and self-fulfilling. 

You don’t get a full-body shot today because I feel like my bottom half is fat and I think my face looks like it was hit by a meteor of ugly.  So you only get a headless bust shot.  But you get the idea.

Pastel candy-stripe shirt is vintage.  It’s so adorable.  Too bad it’s draped on my grotesque frame. 

Can you tell I’m still depressed?

Balmain Resort Collection 2012.  I love it more than I love oxygen.  I like the mash-up of sequins and aztec/Transformers-logo-esque patterns with structured pieces and flow-y pieces… just enough slouch to be cool, just enough tailoring to be fashionable.

And the model is, like, mega-cool.  Just walking down the stairs over and over again with her flow-y, messy-but-sexy hair, wearing stylized Transformers-logo dresses.  Is she going to a concert in a dive bar or is she going out for like, a business dinner with rich people or some shit like that?  WHO KNOWS?  So cool.

It would be cool if I had this car, and I had like, messy, long, wavy, 80′s rock-punk hair with bangs, and I drove it around the city playing, like, blues-rock and stuff, and wore big motorcycle boots and had to jump into the driver’s side window like the General Lee instead of opening the door because the door sticks and I always wore band T-Shirts that were all sexy and shit and my jeans had rips in them.

That would be cool.

Although my buttercup yellow, raw silk dress is totally adorable, I kind of feel like I’m going to a wedding.  Probably because I wore this exact thing to a wedding like 2 years ago.

At this wedding (like all weddings I attend), I spent the entirety of the night doing the “mentally challenged Natalie” dance, which is similar to the Elaine Benice dance, but with significantly more “soul”.   I like to think that whenever I go to a wedding, I totally intimidate everyone with my supa-cool dance styles and they talk about me for years afterwards. 

They probably do talk about me for years afterwards, but with more of a “That poor, poor girl” tone than a “That girl has supa-cool dance styles” tone.

One time, I went to a wedding, and I was dancing and everything, and I was preeeetty sure that I was dominating the dance floor when this super hot chick in a hot strapless red dress called me out to like, a dance-fight, like in the smash hit “Step Up 2: The Streets“.  I was pretty confident that I could destroy her, so I accepted the challenge.

THEN SHE DID THE WORM ACROSS THE DANCE FLOOR.  In her short, red strapless dress.  She was awesome.

One last point – please note the perfection of my bow.  If you need me to tie a bow for you, I charge $25.00 per bow, and $5.00 for bow-tying maintenance throughout the day.  Plus meals and expenses.