Showing posts with label haircut. Show all posts
Showing posts with label haircut. Show all posts

Friday, 21 December 2012

Digging for Brains... - Doggie Dealership

Digging for Brains...

Coming up Short

 
Sooo, I went for my haircut. Yay!
 
I arrive at the hairdresser's and I wait...and wait...and wait...
 
I have been seeing the same hairdresser since there were VHS tapes (WOW - I totally just dated myself...age-wise, not like I really want to take myself for a candle-lit dinner).
 
Apparently she didn't recognize me: "I didn't realize you were here! I didn't recognize you with all that hair!" (And I picture in my head I became some freakish Cousin It, FRIGHTENING!)
 
I'm led to the chair (not the electric one - even if it is nearing the "End of Days: Mayan Style") and we decide to get rid of my hair cloak.
 
"If we're going to color, we won't need this!" She gathers my hair in a bunch in the back and WHACK - off a bundle goes on the floor. I start to laugh - a bit hysterically.
 
Then it's color time! I'm going Kick Your Ass Red (that's not the official name, but it should be). My hairdresser is teaching another girl as she works on my hair.
 
"Normally we add something to tone down the color when the hair is light like this so it doesn't go bright, but we're not going to do that here," she explains.
 
"That's right," I say. "Because we're not about subtle."
 
The girl looks a little surprised...not to mention nervous. I suppose she's not used to unstable customers being sassy.
 
The color goes on and starts to look like bloody red goop ALL OVER my head. I can't help it, I'm laughing. The stylists look at me - understandably concerned.
 
"You look like zombies on a hunt for brains with blood all over your hands," I explain as I'm giggling away. A little inappropriate I suppose considering it's MY head I'm imagining they're digging in.
 
They look down at their gooey, red gloves and my messy scalp with raised eyebrows.
 
"And I'm a little concerned you're going to be terribly disappointed."
 

If You're Going to Hate Me, Dog...

 
I have the best behaved dog in the world, and she hates me.
Daisy hardly ever barks, doesn't whiz in the house, you can literally eat with food in your lap and she'll lay beside you and turn her head away...
 
But there is NO FUN in her world! Oh, I've tried to get her to play - but I think it's against her religion. She's a Nofunitarian. And she takes it VERY seriously. I've tried to lead her into temptation with balls, ropes, chewies, stuffed toys... I even tried to BRIBE her into playing with CHEESE.
 
WOW... Sounds like the old "had to tie a pork chop around your neck to get the dog to play with you" story...
 
I'm pretty sure she's not really a dog. She might be a stuffie...or a robot. Or maybe I wrecked her.
 
I tell her I'm going to trade up. Maybe there's a dog dealership somewhere.
 
"One Chihuahua, slightly used, excellent condition, small mental issues..."
 
 
 
 

On a Side Note...

 
My oldest son says he wants false teeth so he can bounce them on the deck... I have QUESTIONS.
 
1. Do they make them out of rubber?
 
2. Do you use the 5-second rule?
 
3. Can the Tooth Fairy afford this?
 
4. What do you EAT when you have rubber teeth?
 
5. What kind of sound does your mouth make when you HAVE rubber teeth? Like squeaky shoes in the hallway? Or boing boing?
 
...And I have officially considered it WAY too long.
 

Wednesday, 19 December 2012

My Grandma May Haunt Me for This - I Have Learned...Not Nearly Enough

Get a Haircut, Grandma!

I have this fear. I may be turning into my grandmother.
 
This may not seem like a big deal to most people, but most people did not have the MOTHER of all...I'll say eccentric grandmas. Or I could just say fuck it and be honest and say crazy...but I won't, because my Mom might read this. And she spanks.
 
I was all excited to have an appointment for a haircut and a color. I LOVE to color my hair. My parents used to call me Rainbow Brite. (If you don't remember who that is...you're too young - so Google it. She was AWESOME.) 
 

I started because I was in Beauty Culture in high school, and hey - it was fun. Let's face it, Beauty Culture for teenage girls is like a liquor store for alcoholics...HELLOOO??? There is NO willpower.
 
Then I started to go gray at 18! At first it was funny, but that shit totally did NOT last. It was more like holy crap, I am NOT going there! God obviously didn't want me to have gray hair or Lady Clairol would've had a stroke before the "big invention", right?

 

SO, I book the appointment and I realize the last haircut I had was MOTHER'S DAY! Seriously... Seven months ago. What is wrong with me? When did I become Grandma?
 

My grandma would only have a haircut every six months, and we were like "EW! Deal with that!"
 
What is next? Will I start wearing bread bags on my head so my hair won't get wet? Will I take the vegetable bags from the grocery store and wear them, too? (TRUE STORY... Free rain bonnets, y'all.)
 
Will I be on the hunt for discount runners for less than a dollar, be angry when I get home because they have four holes on one side for laces and three on the other - feeling ripped off? Drive 45 minutes to take them back? Then feel vindicated when I come home with TWO PAIRS of freaky runners - what a DEAL! (Also true.)
 
I'm scaring myself... I'll get the damn haircut. Maybe I'd better book the next one while I'm there - A LOT sooner, like maybe a week from now to be on the safe side.
 

Walk softly and carry camping equipment...


"I know better than to poke people with a big stick."
 
This coming from my youngest son, the mini-professor, does NOT surprise me. 
 
"Cause that's just being a big jerk."
 
My oldest brother (after almost spewing his coffee all over the dinner table - and yes, he gets bonus points for control) says:
 
"I have a big hot dog stick."
 
...Forewarned.
 

Have I Learned Anything? ...Maybe.

This Shit May Just be EPIC

 
I recently had my birthday. WOW, I know... You could be thinking either: someone actually gave birth to me and admitted it  - or I still admit I have birthdays. Two ENTIRELY different ways to be a failure as a girl... Too bad. I can console myself later with wine .
 
Do I look back and reflect? NO! Not due to a fear of old age throwing my neck out...more due to fear of actually SEEING the cosmic boot of life kicking me in the ass.
 
I may be a complete disaster, but I have found the following to be truths in life:
 
1: Don't argue with your children, mess with them instead - it's more fun.
 
2: Laugh at yourself - it's really okay to know you're being an ass, personally I consider it therapeutic.
 
3: You can't hide forever...unless you have an invisibility cloak. That would be the shit.
 
4: Hugs - they're awesome. Get lots, give lots...except from creepy drunk or homeless weirdos. Avoid them.
 
5: Decaffinated coffee is wrong...just wrong. Somebody just unhappied the coffee.
 
6: I think many things have chicken DNA - that's why so much stuff tastes like chicken. Either that, or there's the disturbing thought that roosters are really NOT that fussy...
 
7: I am an EXCELLENT "put-er away-er" of stuff. That "safe place" is SO safe - I have NO freaking idea where it is. Future civilizations are going to dig up some amazing (or incredibly mundane) shit...or my Christmas presents...or lots of keys.
 
8: Love your friends and family and show them. Mine put up with this ALL THE DAMN TIME... They deserve a medal.