I watched my first ever episode of The Sentinel last night. Didn't grab me in a Buffy/SG-1 kind of instant lust but it was fun. Now tell me it was the suckiest one ever, like when my first Farscape was Jeremiah Crichton ;-)

It had the leader of the aliens from SG-1's episode with Marty in it (that makes no sense but I can't be bothered to rethink it; you know who I mean, or you don't) and it was about a man who does plastic surgery on criminals and opens with someone falling onto someone's car and going squish.

Okay, looked it up: 3.10 Dead Certain.

And I just had my hair cut. Really different. I keep staring in the mirror and blinking doubtfully. She had this artistically flipped bit along the parting which lasted until I got to the car and I plastered it flat again. I did stress the low-maintenance so her look of dismay when I said, no, I have no curling irons, was a tad on the worrying side... The style I said I wanted she luckily told me would take 45 mins a morning to keep in place. Say what? People DO that? I wash it, comb out the tangles, and wave the dryer at it for thirty seconds or so. And I do it every third day.

Sheesh.
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