Wednesday, December 19, 2007

Blessed Yule



Ah, the holidays: eternal friendship, ephemeral gifts, live trees, fake cards, warm stoves, cold weather, white christmas, black ice, powdered sugar, road salt, clean snow, dirty cars, family, freak-outs, candy, candy, candy, and loooooove.



Happy merry, everyone.






Friday, December 14, 2007

shear terror


Well, its been a super long time since I blogged, so I feel the need to cast my pebble of verbosity out into the mass consiousness. Jesus, I'm glad it's Friday!

I got my hair cut today. It had been growing out for about four months due partly to some planning on my part but mostly to my busy schedule. I finally went over today during lunch.

At the salon I go to (again, because of my schedule), it is first come-first serve and you never know who is going to cut your hair. The important thing is, they are open late and they usually have a stylist available on short notice.

So today I went over and got a new stylist...a man. He quickly informed me that he didn't want me to look at my hair while he was cutting because he had the vision for what we were going to do. He followed that up with a cautionary tale about some guy who once had the nerve to dictate to him what his hair should be cut like...specifically, the guy had wanted a certain set of numbers shaved into his hair. Whatever. Alarmingly, my new stylist had been very offended by this creative smothering and had told the man, "Look...you don't tell your architect where to put the support beams. Don't tell me how to cut hair." He then recounted how tempted he had been to shave his own name into the back of the guys head.

So it went on like that as I sat there, not looking, while he did my hair. He asked what I did for a living. I braced myself and told him I worked at the domestic violence project. The usual tyrade about his ex beating him, how he would never call the cops because he would get arrested, and bias based purely on a superficial thing like his own criminal record would impede his quest for justice. PS: he would never hit a woman, tho. of course he'd hit a lot of guys. he used to be a bouncer, after all. (and now he does hair????!!)

Then he moved on to his quest for a girlfriend but how hard it was because women in Maine were so hard to figure out. He just moved here from Boston, by the way. So women in Maine, according to his research:

1) Rarely have a full set of teeth
2)Only like lobstermen
3)All have kids by the time they are twenty two
4)Want a guy with a car (which he doesn't have)

And having further stipulated that he was not looking for a long-term relationship but for "you know what," he asked me for advice on Maine women. Suffice to say I had none, but was trying really hard not to piss him off lest he shave bad things into my hair. I tried to joke with him by saying, "women like if it you are kid-friendly," he said he was NOT kid friendly...why should he be stuck taking care of some lobsterman's kids while that jackass was out at sea? Was that fair? No! But he contemplated it a bit before deciding, "I GUESS I could PRETEND to be kid friendly for the short term." Then berated me for my bad advice, suggesting that I must be pretty bad at my job. He said, "I bet you just sit there telling women to break up with guys all day. If he can't provide childcare, just dump him."

Oh, well. He did a decent job cutting my hair, despite my spanking new stylist-related PTSD.

I can't believe I left the fucker a five dollar tip.