My Hair-Raising Adventure

Me, on Sunday afternoon. Note my brown hair.

Me, on Sunday night. Note the hair dye. (Sorry 'bout the old towel, Mom.)

Me, after the hair dye. Note I'm no longer smiling, but instead
looking cautious. Or I'm looking at the LCD screen on my camera.

Okay, so one year, I tried to dye my hair temporarily blonde for a party and it didn't take. This year, I tried dying my hair black, but there wasn't really a difference. So for Halloween Reformation Day, I thought it would be fun to dye my hair red. So I picked up a bottle and made sure that it said that it would work with my dark shade of brown hair. According to the bottle, there would be a difference in appearance. Stupid bottle.

I probably would have looked for something else that maybe in hindsight would have worked better, but that night I was pretty lazy. Plus, do you know the stares a guy gets when he's in the hair dye aisle? Or, in the health and beauty aids department, period? Seriously, the old ladies stare at you like I'm Jenny Granholm moving in to a house in Grandville.

Anyways, as I look in the mirror, my hair looks just a shade lighter, and that's IT. It doesn't even look like a dark red, just like another shade of brown. Maybe it's my hair. Can hair totally reject hair dye, no matter what? Because I'm beginning to wonder if my hair possesses that strange, and not-at-all-handy superpower...