Posts Tagged ‘Hair Cut’

.. I usually have an “Wanna Annoy Me” post every now and again but there were too many things today that just crawled up my ass so I figured I’d go easy on you guys and just enter one post.

Actually.. that’s not all together true. I just got back from the laundromat with 5 :: count ’em 5 :: hampers so stuffed with clean clothes that I’ll never get the wrinkles out to fold that multiple posts just isn’t Father Time’s hourglass.

Ok..

So..

Things that annoyed me today:

  1. I cut my bangs too short. I have this crazy curly hair that just magically shortens by 5 inches when you cut it. I usually leave it to the professionals :: which, I WAS one before I let my license expire :: but it got on my nerves so bad today that I dry cut it. This.. for all you non-professionals out there is when you cut your hair.. dry. Meaning, not wet. Meaning you just get done blow drying your hair and you can’t stand the way it fall into your face and annoys you that you grab the nearest scissors you can find and just start chopping. That’s a “dry cut”. The problem is when you cut your bangs yourself, you kind of get cross eyed. So it’s not a pretty thing to witness. So what was once a bang length down to my chin is now a bang length just in the middle of my eye. Too short. Long term baseball cap wear-age definitely in my future.
  2. Men who wear tighty-whities. I am allowed to say that out loud because Chief is among the tighty-whitie wearers and I am the one who has to launder his tighty-whities. I used to roll my eyes at the Spawn from Satan’s Ass because he wore tighty-non-whities and it just looked ridiculous but if there is one kind thing I can say about the Spawn, it’s that he spared me from looking at and having to handle stained underwear. And we all know underwear gets stained.. PLEASE don’t try to convince me that your’s doesn’t. My question is.. how are you not EMBARASSED by it? I have been know to wear underwear on occassion :: yes, I usually go “commando” :: but even then, one little thing that isn’t suppose to be there and they get chucked in the trash. Buried deep. So no one can see them.
  3. People who drive with handicap placards hanging from their rear view mirror. Because.. like.. it clearly states DO NOT HANG WHILE DRIVING. I know.. because my dad :: RIP :: used to have one. If you’re going to do that then I’m going to assume your handicap is of the mental variety and you shouldn’t be driving anyway. Therefore, I can’t help what comes out of my mouth when you decide your going to make a UTurn on a four lane highway from the far right lane, while I’m in the middle lane. Jerk off.
  4. .. and speaking of stuff hanging from rear view mirrors. What’s with all the damn plastic leis all of a sudden? Did I miss a memo? Forget to invite me to a party. Get that dumb shit off.
  5. People who think THEIR time is WAY MORE valuable then mine. You know the whole issue we’re having with Bubba and school, right? Well, I’ve been in email communication with his primary teacher and since today was report card day, she suggested that I go to the high school at 4:30 so that I can have a sit down meeting with all his teachers. 4:30. I KNOW she said 4:30. I KNOW she said 4:30 because when she said 4:30 all kinds of things started running through my head like, “Will Chief be able to close the store and come with?” .. “Do I leave Bubba home alone?”.. “Will I be able to pick Bubba up at 2:20 and then go to the wholesalers and make it back in time?” .. so yea.. I KNOW she said 4:30. So what happens? I get to the school at 4:30 and no one. Anywhere. I check the library where we were suppose to meet and it’s empty except for someone that’s somewhere in the back who won’t respond to my HELLOs or EXCUSE MEs only to make an appearance after I roamed all over an empty school :: so much for fucking security :: and happen to see the above mentioned someone in the middle of the library vacuuming. When asked the whereabouts of the teachers, she looked at me in disgust and told me that report cards weren’t going to be given out until 6… with an attitude. But no bigger then the one I was already carrying around. So I drive back to the shop fuming and then drive back to the school fuming and when finally face to face with the primary teacher, she tells me that she smugly told me that she had something to do. If Bubba’s education was NOT as important as it is I would have dropped the cow on her fat ass. Immediately.
  6. My father in law telling me he can’t believe I stayed with his son this long. That annoyed me. Maybe because it’s true and I know it’s true. Dunno. Must ponder that one.
  7. Missing school pictures. OH how that annoyed me! If you read some of my recent previous posts, you know that the Crack Whore was throwing up accolades in my direction because I sent her a message that I had Spaz’s school picture for her. Well, today, Spaz got out of school early and because .. well, I don’t really know “because” .. anyway, he called the Crack Whore and she how ever it happened, she came by the shop and took him somewhere. I was in the back.. didn’t see her.. didn’t care. BUT I figured when I got home, I better sort out the pictures because I wanted to put which ever ones in the Thanksgiving cards I got for Chief’s brother, my mom, etc. So when I get home.. there’s no 8×10. There WAS an 8×10 because I ordered and 8×10.. and even if I didn’t think I ordered an 8×10, I clearly remember the day that Spaz came home with them and pulled the 8×10 out of the envelope because I told him to put it back before his sticky candy fingers smudged it. I have a wall lined with their 8×10 school pictures so I know there was one. So I call the Crack Whore and leave a message to have Spaz call me because there’s a missing 8 x fucking 10 picture missing. About an hour and a half goes by and he calls and asks if I want to talk to him and I ask him if he took the picture. He said no.. and if there was ever a time that I could tell this child was lying it was then. The pause.. the stutter.. all neon arrows. He tells me that I didn’t order one. Now.. excuse me.. my brain cells are not swimming in anything chemical. It’s sharp as a tack so to try and convince me that I didn’t order one only inflamed me more. That and the fact that the edging that was on the 8 x fucking 10 picture was cut. And not in a straight line. We had issues with pictures before, me and the Crack Whore. Especially when she stole Weed’s prom picture. Yes. You read that right. STOLE. So I’m not putting it past her that she asked about the pictures and Spaz gave her the 8 x fucking 10. What I’m more pissed about is that she made him lie about it. So tonight at dinner, after he came home from her crack den, I told him that I wanted the picture back. That no one but me and him knew where the pack was. He started pulling his drama queen shit which further proved he had lied. So Chief gave him the opportunity to come clean saying that it’s understandable if he did because he’s just a little boy but he had to be honest about it. Which of course, made Sarah Bernhardt rise from the dead. And so I got pissed. Because I paid the $60 that I didn’t have for these pictures and I told Chief, he could call her all he wants.. she’s not going to ‘fess up to it. Because she never does. But I will tell you one thing.. in a few days that picture is going mysteriously turn up.. or I’m going to hear, “oh.. I forgot!’ or “I didn’t know you were talking about THAT picture”. I’ll bet you any amount of money on that.
  8. Supermarkets that tell you that you CANNOT get the free turkey that is owed you for spending over three hundred dollars on their discount card because you lost the receipt that says you are entitled to a free turkey because you spent over three hundred dollars on their discount card. Since my father in law is coming over for dinner Thursday, I need a fucking turkey. Because as un-traditional as Chief is.. he CAN’T have ham :: of which I have one frozen in the freezer :: on Thanksgiving. It HAS to be turkey. It’s the TRADITION. I rolled my eyes at him and said, “.. you’re fucking kidding me, right?” Which, of course, he wasn’t. So I drive over to the supermarket .. grab a frozen bird :: AND thinking that if any bird deserved to be frozen right then it was Chief’s :: and when I get to the counter I remember that I don’t have the coupon. Not only don’t I have the coupon but I realize that I have no clue where it’s at. No problem. I have my discount card on my keyring. So I run out to the car to get my keys :: yes, I put my keys in the glove box if I know I’m not going to need a damn discount card because I always lose them and my car has coded locks so it’s not like I’d be locked out. :: come back into the store only to have the cashier tell me that I need the coupon. UH-UH! I have the discount card. She says it doesn’t matter.. that she has to ring up the card along with the coupon and bedlam ensues. Because I want someone who gets paid more then the cashier does to tell me that my discount card is NOT good enough.. because if the damn card can tell them everything about everything I’ve purchased then why the hell can’t it tell them that I get a free turkey. But of course, this is the Tuesday before Thanksgiving and the crowd behind me is looking for things to impale me with so I told her that I would return tomorrow to speak with the manager. Then I went home and told Chief we were starting a new tradition and having ham, dammit.
  9. Cats that chew on a ridiculously expensive pair of boots that have been stored in the deepest, darkest depth of my closet since last winter REALLY ANNOY me. I mean REALLY annoyed me. Annoyed me so much that I started to believe that the author of “Puss In Boots” had a cat that chewed on a ridiculously expensive pair of boots and made him pay for it dearly. Or maybe that’s what I was thinking when I found my boots were chewed. Hard to tell. I was annoyed.

Well.. I think y’all had enough of my ranting for now. I still have two hampers of laundry to fold and the laptop battery is running low.

Wish me a better day tomorrow.. either that, or send me a REALLY good recipe for spiked egg nog!

… so the other day I commit to getting my hair cut.

Me and my hair have issues. Namely that it acts like a teenager and does whatever the hell it wants to do regardless of how much “product” I put into it.

I have this wacky mane of curls that apparently, people pay a lot of money in a salon to copy but when it gets “too” long.. I shed more then the dogs do and the only thing it will allow me to do with it is stick it in a pony tail so that I won’t look so much like a wack job.

Problem is.. I’m just a wee bit old to wear pony tails. Everyone tells me that I look like I’m in my mid-thirties but I actually just turned 44.

The other thing is… I’m just SO not a “salon gal”.

I can think of a million and one things that I can do with the time it takes to sit in a salon. Like.. oh, I don’t know.. pluck out my eye lashes?

But when it gets to the point that I’m justthisclose to taking the dog clippers and shaving it all off, I know it’s time to fulfill Section XXIV to keep my Woman’s Membership card.

Since the shop is located on one of the main Boulevards that cross the county, told Chief that I was just going to drive up until I find someplace to get it cut. There’s a million and one franchise placed :: read Hair Cuttery :: and since we’re small business owners, I wanted to patronize a small place to help do my little part in keeping them in business.

I find this place a few blocks up. It’s a tiny place called Tina’s and it’s directly across the street from a larger chain that just opened a few months ago. Perfect! Just the kind of place I was looking for.

So I pop my head in. The place was tiny and you could tell that it specialized in older woman who needed roller sets because it had those big, old fashioned hair dryers that looked like Nasa invented them.

This Asian woman sees me and I ask her if I could have my hair cut. There was already a woman sitting in one of the two stations getting a perm so I didn’t know if I was going to have to wait or not.

Yes.. yes.. come in.. sure.. sure.. you get hair cut.. sit.. sit..

Cool.

So I did.. thinking that there was someone else hiding in the back that was going to appear to cut my hair. But no.. as soon as I sat in the chair, this little Asian woman whipped a cape around me and started spraying my hair with a spray bottle.

Um. I have ALOT of hair. Like I said, it’s curly.. it’s thick.. and it was almost down to the middle of my back so I had my doubts about the spray bottle. But I was going back to the shop and would have my baseball cap on so it really didn’t matter.

What way? What way yew want cut? she asks me.

Little known fact about me is that once upon a time, I had my cosmetology license so I can communicate exactly how I wanted it cut. But just in case there was a language barrier, I told her that me and my husband owned a deli and that I needed to have it long enough to pull back threw my cap.

Ooooh! Ooooh! She says.. Yew hown deli? Where deli at? Deli near heair?

She keeps cutting and tells me some things about her family.. kids.. etc. The usual stuff that strange hair dressers talk about to new clients.

A buzzer goes off and she tells me that she would be right back.. that she had to rinse out the lady with the perm. No problem. I’ll just.. um.. sit here.. and.. um.. dunno… look at some.. um.. gee.. 10 year old magazines?? Oh.. no.. actually I’ll read the ingredients on my bottle of Blackberry Lemonade. Twice. Then backwards.

She finally gets back to my hair and says to me:

I make egg rwoll. Good egg rwoll. Best egg rwoll. Yew sell in yew deli? Dey good egg rwoll. I make myself. You like. You sell in yew deli and help me owut? Ok? Ok? I brwing down 100. You sell. You help me ouwt, ok?

Ahhhh… WHAT?

She repeats that she is the High Priestess of Egg Roll Making and that she wants me to sell them in my store.

Now.. just between you and me.. there’s a WHOLE lotta regulations when selling “self prepared” food.. even more so when you’re buying “self prepared” food from someone else. Namely, it has to be produced in a licensed commercial kitchen :: which I doubt Egg Rwoll Lady had :: and all the ingredients need to be listed. It’s a risk on a good day… HUGE risk when it’s some lady you just popped in to get your hair cut by

It was an awkward moment and I really didn’t feel like explaining all that to this woman. She was.. after all.. holding a sharp pointy object near my head! So I did what I always do when something like this presents itself.

I’LL TALK TO MY HUSBAND

But she wasn’t having any of that. She wanted me to definitely say

YES! YES! YES, HIGH PRIESTESS OF EGG ROLL MAKING! I NEED TO SELL YOUR EGG ROLLS IN MY STORE EVEN THOUGH THERE IS A CHINESE TAKE OUT PLACE RIGHT. ACROSS. THE. STREET. FROM MY SHOP.

But I told her that Chief was the chef and he was the one that made the final decisions. The only thing I could do is ask him but I would definitely have him call her.

Yew help me.. she said. Yew help me. I need help. Yew sell my egg rwolls and help me.

And I was all.. I AM helping you! I’m here, right? I could have gone to the Hair Cuttery, right? But I’m here.. TRYING to help out a small business and you’re just all up in my grill about selling your egg rolls when I told you that the only thing I could do is ask my husband about it!!

She gave my hair one last yank.. threw her comb and scissors on the station table and said, “.. yew check hair. Yew like den leave 10 dolla on table. Yew don’t like, yew tell me wot wrong and I fix”

Talk about an ATTITUDE! Sheesh!

Honestly, I didn’t even look at it. I shook it out.. left 15.00 on her table.. thanked her and made for the door.

NO FORGET! YEW BUY EGG RWOLL! YEW HELP ME OWT OK?

Back in the safety of my car.. I downed the last of my Black Berry Lemonade and looked around for Rod Serling or the Candid Camera guy. If it wasn’t Candid Camera then it definitely had to be the freakin’ Twilight Zone!

I drive back to the shop and Chief was all like .. OMG! I LOVE YOUR HAIR! and I was like, tough.. I’m never going back there again.

I went on to tell him what happened and he was literally crying from laughing so hard.

Did you think I was exaggerating when I said that this type of shit happens to nobody but me and Dick Tracy??