Monday, September 3, 2007

Where I get a really bad mom haircut and a toad pees on me

My hair. Oh, sweet Jesus, my hair.
I was given the dreaded 'mom' haircut. Seriously, and a bad one at that. I left the salon almost in tears. I felt the sudden urge to move to Olathe, wear khaki shorts with a really high waist, vote republican, stop swearing, and suddenly hate my tattoos. I have worn a hat for the better part of two days. Not only is it shorter than I wanted, it's many different lengths... we are bordering, nay! Teetering on the very brink of mulletdom. He cut it very very short in the back, from the top of my head down, but inexplicably left a fringe of longer hair on the bottom. The sides are longer, too. He cut my bangs, after I had just finished lamenting how fucking long it had taken to grow them out. Mother. Fucker. AND, he put zero product in my very dry naturally curly frizzball Jew hair and proceeded to blow it dry until I resembled the offspring of a brillo pad and a used Q tip. There has been much weeping and tearing of the clothes this weekend, I assure you all.
I give you... Mom Hair



I assure you, that is after I worked with it for an hour. It looks... not heinous. Here's me saying fuck it and making the shitty top part stick up:



Not my idea of good hair, I think I look like a pretty cute lesbian, but I'll take that over one of the herd any day of the week. Where'd I pack away my Dr. Martens?

Okay, so on to the toad pee. I went on my walk tonight, and was really in the zone, and it was pitch dark out, yet I still managed to spot a toad hop in front of me on the sidewalk. Y'all know how I love the critters, so I could resist scooping him up. He was good size, about 4 inches or so. I had the brilliant idea to take him home, not thinking about the fact that I was a good mile or two from home. He peed on me instantly, all over my hands and legs. I dropped him, but he was too stupid to hop the fuck away, and really, he's asking for it at this point, so I'm sorry mr toad, you are going to come home with the big scary human thing that is speaking to you like you understand what she's saying, and I know you're holding very still hoping I'll think you're dead and put you down because you, along with a lot of other humans, think I may be absolutely crazy. 

So yeah, I carried him all the way home, showed Tyler, determined it was in fact a toad, and not a frog, then watched in horror as he peed from one end of the house to the other as I ran frantically to the door to let him go. I have since showered. I felt a tad not-so-fresh.

So there's my weekend. Top that.

2 comments:

Best Case Scenario said...

OH man... don't ya hate that. I used to go to hair dresser religiously until she must have decided it was high time I start looking my age and all she would give me was the equivalent of a pair of mom jeans on my head. I mean really, I listen to the pixies and tool for godsake... I don't want to look like THAT.

I switched and found the most extreme hairdresser I could find and when I go for a cut, try to look as badass as possible.

From the pics it looks, well it is hard to tell. On a positive note, experiment with wax and putty and hardware and show off your gorgeous face. I will eventually grow out.

Christine said...

My mantra has been 'it's only hair', but you saw how long it was! It's been a shock of sorts, and I hope once I have a chance to mess around with, it I won't hate it as much!