September 12, 2007 by Keli.

There’s something most of us wear every single day of our lives. It’s one of the first things others notice when they look at us. Therefore, it’s of utmost importance that stupers (short once again for unequivocally stupid persons) not get their uncouth hands on this: our hair.

Before I had kids, I frequented hip hair salons near my office where I was pampered and primped. My hair was cut by stylists who obviously took no interest in their own unkempt hair; they unselfishly focused only on their clients.

Post kids, I frequented salons of closest proximity and hoped for the best. After several recommendations, I went to see Justine of Justine’s Hair Studio.  

Justine herself was an attractive blonde; her hair was carefully styled. The salon too appeared pleasing to the eye. No hint of disgruntled customers. No one running into the parking lot wearing dark shades and a bucket over her head. No sign of hysterics.

All I wanted was to cover a few gray hairs. I explained to Justine that I liked a natural look. My hair is dark brown and shoulder length. No one needed to know that I colored it but she and I. She nodded conspiratorially. I relaxed.

When she finished, my hair was not the color of a freshly picked chestnut as I desired, but of crude oil. Jet, inky black.

“It’s too dark,” I told her.

Justine’s date had arrived and hovered around the waiting area. “Go home and check it out. If you want it lighter, come back tomorrow.”

I returned the next day. Justine assured me, “Don’t worry.” (Remember what I said last time about stupers who toss that line around?)

What does “I like my natural color” mean to you? Does it mean I want my hair to resemble the hide of a zebra grazing at a Kenyan water hole? Because suddenly I had stripes that any zebra would longingly admire. Excuse me for a few minutes while I stroll out  into my back pasture, open my mouth wide and holler for a good sixteen seconds or until I empty all the air out of my body.

**********************************************

Okay, I’m back. So yes, I had cream colored, distinctive stripes on my hair. I blinked several times, hoping that each time I opened my eyes, I’d awaken from my hairgedy (short for hair tragedy). I was speechless. So what did Justine say?

“Do you want me to put it in a French braid for you?”

I realized that if I permitted Justine to do anything else to my hair, I might have to be led out in handcuffs. Yet there were no empty buckets or pillowcases around for me to cover my head with when I went out in broad daylight. While I sat there mutely, Justine braided my hair. This is what the back of my head looked like when she was done:

 I kept it in this braid for a few days while I decided what to do. Did I bother to mention that I was to be the Maid of Honor at my sister’s wedding in a week?

When I went out in public for the first time in my stripes, my son’s kindergarten teacher ran into me and stopped in the middle of her hello as her eyes fell upon my hair.

“My hairdresser was on drugs,” I explained helpfully.

She nodded in total understanding.

To cut to the chase, I ended up seeing my sister’s hairdresser (yet another person who cared nothing about his own locks) who gently coaxed my hair back to its original shade.

Moral of this tale: If the person doing your tresses looks like he/she spends far too much time on his/her own hair, chances are they are stupid stylists.

Just think!

Keli

Keli@Counterfeithumans.com

Posted in Monumental Stupidity | 9 Comments »

September 12, 2007 by Keli.

Pushing stupidity aside for a few moments, I’d like to thank the brilliant Twisted Sisters for including me as a recipient of the Totally Fabulous Award. It is indeed an honor to be acknowledged by them. They are positively fabulous!

Posted in Miscellaneous | 3 Comments »