I don't usually write stuff like this (it's more in the domain of my friend Laura with her Incidents du Jour). If it were only one thing, I wouldn't have bothered, but two. It's a sign.
I have to preface this by telling you that I recently got my hair dyed, and the color I used is called ``Bodacious Burgundy,'' but I didn't bleach my hair first, so the effect is more of a brownish black with purple highlights. So, I come in to my yoga class, sit down, and start to get ready, taking off my shoes, etc. The woman sitting next to me casually looks over and says:
``How'd you know?''
``I know these things.''
My hair wasn't purple when I interviewed, but it was by the first day of my new job. I walk in and one of my new coworkers says, ``Hi, Dan! How are...HEY! Your hair's purple! Your hair's not supposed to be purple; Tim's is!''
Tim's my new officemate, and apparantly during his interview, he explicitly asked if he could get purple hair. I never asked, and now I fear that somehow I've upset the balance of the universe.