Now to confess to my mom about my misdeed.

And all I wanted was a hair cut (which I am very pleased with). I hate pushy salespeople. Damn it. Weak willed weakling. Dumb floozie with tacky gold streaks in hair. That's me. The floozie I mean. If you don't get it.

Now I can't stop worrying about my finances. And my mom has just wrote me to ask whether I have enough in the bank. Big uh-oh. If I say yes, she goes to the bank, sees the state of our joint bank account and screams at me. If I say no, I struggle with cash flow problems and lose hair in the process.

I could tell my mom the truth. I intended to today. Down to the last dollar I have in my personal account. Which means I will get screamed at anyway. It isn't the screaming that really gets to me, it's the guilt that gets instilled in me. Okay maybe not screamed at. But THAT VOICE that parents are really good at. And the guilt hits right on target, especially the bit where Daddy gets really, really stressed at work. Yes, it is milder in tone when I get told off over the phone, but... you get the idea. Plus I get to see my parents in June.

Yes and I didn't get to tell my mom because the hostel has decided to restrict toll-free numbers on my phone. That means I can't call home using either a phone card or the overseas telephone provider my mom subscribes to. Bloody hell.

In addition, I keep telling myself I will get a nice job and give my mom some of my pay cheque in return. But that's in the future. And parents care more about the present where their children's misdeeds are concerned, not the future.

Blah. I will never ever dye my hair again. And for your information, I went, "Fuck you" to my reflection in the mirror umpteen times today. That is a good measurement on how hot the water I am in right now.