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Eat, Drink, Be Merry, For Tomorrow We Dye!

Guess what? Long, hot pink tresses attracts attention. Especially in the ‘hood where JADE is located. Since choosing the shade, I have yet to make it past a Black girl without hearing I luuuuuhhvv yo’ hair color. It’s pretty obvious I’m conspicuous enough that even the Task Force Officers would notice me. I’ve not been around them -- content to stick with updating I HeArTE JADE -- but after the newly-smug-filled Special Agent Trent informed me he’d be getting an arrest warrant for me I’m figuring what the hell; in for a penny, in for a pound.

I’ve tried calling Mr. Trent to make other, agreeable, arrangements, for everyone involved, but he doesn’t answer his desk phone. Got a sweetie to give up Trent’s pager number and his cell number. Nada contact with the Special Agent. WTF? No, I mean, seriously WTF? As in SERIOUSLY WTF? Vindictiveness is so unbecoming on Law Enforcement.

What is becoming, however, is Mr. Trent’s fellow VA State Policeman Rasmussen. The man is like Fierce with a capital YUM! He even looks tough pumpin’ gas.

I fully believe they grow these BCI guys at the top of a beanstalk.

Oh, and -- on the subject of sex appeal -- just when I think Dasani can’t possibly radiate any more Testosterone, I see him roar by on his motorcycle. In jeans. And boots. With sunglasses.

Ooo La La.

Blonde. Blonde would be a good hue for me, yes?