It'll be nice to go back to the Asylum tomorrow so I can rest.
Our tree is new, purchased during the after Christmas sale at the dollar store last year for a whopping $2. It's a 3½ footer, the last one had a wonky leg and was finally deemed unworthy of anymore duct tape and was hauled to the dump back in the summer. We do have a nice, big 6 foot tree, but it takes up the whole living room and causes way too much stress. I'm saving it for the someday when I have an actual house to live in again.
My trip to Samuele De Fantastique was traumatic. When I went in and saw the same woman who scalped me last time, I should have turned tail and left. But no.
I sat there, watching all the stylists and the people waiting, trying to figure out if I was going to get stuck with the pot head again. In front of one of the mirrors there was a high strung, little imp of a woman having a hissy fit, re-brushing, spraying and taking the flat iron to her head and mumbling to herself. I thought she was going to snatch herself bald, right there in front of everyone. She made the pot head re-cut and re-style her hair twice. I later learned that her husband just left her and she'd gotten up that morning and taken a pair of scissors to her head.
I guess we have to take our frustrations out on ourselves when there's nothing else left.
Anywho.. I finally ended up in the pot head's chair. It's like the Universe moves heaven and earth to make sure I end up in her shaky little hands. She didn't offer to wash my hair and I didn't ask her to, even though I had purposely gone without washing it that moring, in anticipation of visiting the salon. I wish I'd spoken up, but I didn't because I'm a big ol' wussy baby like that.
She didn't take as much off as I would have liked, but again... I told her it looked great, even when she parted it in the middle and combed it straight down. I looked like Meatloaf at the end of an outdoor performace on a hot summer night.
After she was done, she handed me the mirror and spun me around, so that I could look at the back and tell her what I thought. As I told her how great it looked, I was silently consoling myself with the knowledge that I had a hair clip in the truck and could put it back up. I didn't hear what she was saying, she was mumbling as she reached for the bottle on the counter. She was trying to sell me some high dollar styling product.
Before I go on, I'd just like to say that if I could afford $8 shampoo, I wouldn't be getting the $12 hair cut from Fantastic Sams from the shaky handed dope head. I'm going to need for the people who run those places, to figure that the eff out.
Any. Who.
Before I knew what was happening, the stylist had squirted a giant wad of hair snot on my head and was working it through.... on my unwashed-since-the-day-before head.
By the time I got out of there, I felt like a greased pig.. but I'm such a wussass that I not only thanked her.. I tipped her.. before sprinting to the truck to grab my hair clip and wad the now greasy mess in to a knot and stick it to the back of my head.
Needless to say, I wasn't really in the mood for much shopping after that. I picked up a few things we needed and did a little window shopping here and there.. but all I could really think about was taking a shower and washing my hair.
Once I got home, degreased my head and took the blow dryer too it, I was much happier. I'm still struggling with my decision to stop coloring it. The gray is just starting to peek through my last dye job. I've been coloring it for so long, that I honestly don't know how bad it is. I'm scared too death that it's going to make me look a lot older than my 42 years.
My plans for today include doing a bit of laundry and working on my collection of short stories.
And napping. Lots of napping.
Ya'll have a good one and enjoy this little slice of Sunday Meatloaf:
Later Taters!
8 comments:
Oh. my. I think the dope head has s sister up here in the midwest. I've been to her at a Master Cuts. OY! Bad. bad.
I now go to Great Clips. On tuesday it's 8.99 for a cut. WOOT!
thank God for hair clips.
ARGH! I would kill that woman. Once in my entire life I went to a salon where they didn't wash my hair when they cut it and I wanted to scream. If it's any consolation, I believe there's a special place in hell for bad stylists.
I swear to Gawd I have not had a living soul touch my hair in the last four years.
I used to own a salon and would trust not only my hair, but my dog with those women.
Since then?
No.
Notta.
No way.
Every january 1st, I get out the kitchen loppers and take off a few inches.
Thats it.
Enjoy your nap :)
I "stopped coloring" mine a few months ago and it was, indeed, scary. Now I'm a nice dull shade of light brown, but no gray BG.
I am SO due for a haircut. But the gals at the place I go to are able to speak less and less English - which makes it really tough to explain what I want. What I REALLY want is a haircut by Nick Arojo, for 12 bucks. What do ya think, possible?
After years in Hooterville, countless "hair designers" and a couple of years at Sams, I finally found a reasonable sober and same person who does consistently good work (3 months in a row!) Now I am moving to DC and get to try to find someone new. Maybe I can just fly to FLorida once a money and let Gary or Shawn make me beautiful!
DG
Do you have WELCOME stamped across your chest? Why do you let people treat you like a doormat? You work hard for that money, make the scissor-wizard do the same!
LOLOLOL hair snot LOLOL And I love Meatloaf, it's been ages since I've listened to him. Wait a minute while I go smoke a joint so I can REALLY reminisce. Joking!!!! Kinda. Anyway, there's nothing worse then walking out of a salon in worse shape then when you walked in. And you thanked and tipped her besides. My my. We have to work on you being way too nice!
Post a Comment