I went to my hair stylist today to get my hair colored.
I walk in and she tells me she's been thinking about my hair and she doesn't want to do anything drastic to it, so she's just going to give me highlights.
I pause and sort of stare because I don't want highlights. I want to get my hair colored.
She proceeds to explain to me why she can't color my hair since it's only two weeks before my wedding and it would be too drastic of a change and I would look at my wedding pictures and think, "What the heck was I thinking?" and she wanted to spare me from such disappointment.
How charitable of her.
Once she gets done with her spiel, she pauses long enough to ask, "Well, what were you thinking you wanted done?"
Oh, my! Well, thank you for asking!
I tell her I want my hair darkened, not really dark, but a light brown color with red highlights.
"Oh, see hun, I really wouldn't be comfortable doing that. Trust me, if I do that, you're going to look at your wedding pictures and be so disappointed. And I really don't want to darken your hair. With your skin tone, it just wouldn't work since you're so fair. And if I gave you blonde highlights, it would make your eyes just pop!"
Um, I don't want highlights.
I explain to her, I don't want anything drastic. I just want it darkened slightly...I'm not going for the goth look here...and I have had my hair brown and I look good in brown hair and I much prefer it to blonde hair.
So, she pulls out this book and starts showing me pictures to prove to me that it would just be too drastic of a change right before my wedding...and the pictures she is showing me is of these punky hairstyles with huge STREAKS of black, red, and blonde in them. I try to tell her, that's not what I want. I want something subtle, but I do want it darker.
She will. Not. Listen.
"Hm...yeah, I just don't think I can do that. Let me highlight your hair first, and if you really don't like it, we'll do it your way and add some low lights. But trust me, you're going to LOVE it."
Um...okay?
I've dealt with pushy hairstylists before, but never one like this. Lady, I am PAYING you to do what I TELL you to with my hair. JUST DO IT.
She was having NONE of it.
I could have argued until I was blue in the face and still she would have done exactly what SHE wanted to do.
I'm sorry. Is this YOUR head? Oh, I didn't think so. SHUT IT.
So, she proceeds to give me highlights. Like you know, with the cap? I'm charged $63 for something I could have done at home WITH A BOX.
She's so thrilled with the results. I smile and tell her I think it's pretty, I'm sure it will grow on me.
I come home CRYING. Crying to my mom, crying to my fiancee, crying to my sister. "This is NOT what I wanted for my wedding day. I'm BLONDE! I HATE being blonde! I look like I'm from freakin' California! I look like Barbie! I hate it! And she wouldn't listen!"
Boo-hoo-hoo.
They all tell me to call her and tell her to correct it.
Whaaaa? I can't do that. I'm too nice for that.
Except for the fact that...I HATE IT.
So, I decide to heed their advice and I call and talk to the receptionist and tell her, "Hey, it's really pretty...it's just not for me. I need it changed. I need it corrected."
So, they're taking me on Friday.
Seriously people, I'M the one who lives with my hair. I'M the one who decides what she wants. NOT YOU. ME!!!! And it's MY FLIPPIN' WEDDING!!! NOT YOURS. If you want to be blonde for your wedding, then go for it...but I DON'T WANT TO!!!
I'm seriously walking in there with a handful of pictures of EXACTLY what I want and if she doesn't give it to me...for the sake of my own good (EXCUSE ME?)...I'm walking out and finding someone who will.
Who does that?!
And do NOT tell me what I will look like with brown hair. I've HAD brown hair before, and I loved it. And don't tell me I need blonde highlights. I was blonde before (anyone remember the platinum look from my college days? Who the HECK was THAT?). Never again.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Embrace your inner sadist
I'm not a big fan of bugs, regardless of whether I'm on their territory, or they're on mine.
That said, I'd much rather remove them from my presence than deal with them invading my space.
But this is easier said than done.
Especially if they are one of two things:
1. Fast-moving.
2. Hard-shelled critters.
The fast-moving ones are a pain in the rear to catch and dispose of. What's even worse though, is if they have the hard shells. Creatures with the hard shells are often time the most difficult to get rid of. You don't want to step on them, lest you're met with the loud crunching then SQUISHing sound escaping from their crushed bodies. Let's face it. I don't care if you're Chuck Norris. That's just nasty. Nobody wants to hear that.
So, what's a person to do?
Get out the heavy duty bathroom cleaner. Or kitchen cleaner. Or disinfectant. Or any household detergent filled with harsh, abrasive, industrial strength chemicals.
And then you spray. Or pour. Or douse. Whatever strikes your fancy.
And then you watch.
I would imagine their ordeal plays out a little like this:
The bug you are trying to kill is simply strolling along, minding it's own business, with no intention of harassing you, when suddenly they are met with a lovely light drizzle from heaven-ward.
No biggie.
Dum-dee-dum-dee-dum.
Along they shuffle, footloose, fancy-free when...
WHAM!
They're suddenly disoriented, paralyzed, slammed with intense pain radiating throughout their crunchy-creepy-crawly body.
But they've faced worse. So, they shake it off and they're up and running.
Dum-dee-dum-dee-dum.
When...
WHAM-BAM!
Uh-oh. They're down for a longer count this time.
They crawl forward. They creep back. They scrunch up their legs, they stretch them out...
And it's over.
All thanks to Lysol or Pinesol or Rubbing Alcohol or Febreeze or what have you.
My sister and I have killed our buggy friends this way for years.
It's not only effective, but it's ick-free for the killer.
Not so for the bug, but you can't have it both ways when you're trying to off the enemy, right?
I work with some people at the store who will do anything to keep from killing a bug. Even the ugly ones. Instead, they will catch them and release them...BACK INTO NATURE WHERE THEY CAN JUST DO THE SAME THING ALL OVER AGAIN TO SOME POOR UNSUSPECTING SIX YEAR OLD WITH RINGLET CURLS AND BRIGHT BLUES EYES NAMED KAITLIN WHO'S JUST TRYING TO GET HOME TO FEED HER CAT, MIMI.
I don't think that's fair, people. Sure, put them back out there to harm someone else. Isn't that a bit like letting a stray, rabid dog roam a playground at noon in early September?
HUH?
I once had a spider "friend" visit me at work in the bathroom. We'll call him Igor. Igor was HUGE. And I'm pretty sure he ate all his off-spring in order to get this way. But I digress.
I couldn't take care of business with Igor sitting there, waiting to pounce, so I enlisted the help of my tree-hugging friend to get rid of him. But she wouldn't. She said he would be instrumental in maintaining a healthy eco-system.
Healthy eco-system my you-know-what.
I couldn't KILL him with my foot. He was UGE!!! And when I say, UGE, I mean like bigger than my left ear lobe and then some.
So, I took out the Comet.
Squirt, squirt.
And I was back to work.
A few hours later, my coworker entered the bathroom literally HORRIFIED by the sight she found on the bathroom floor. A flattened Igor, dead from the harsh chemical fumes. Apparently he thought he could outsmart the attack by flattening himself out. But he was no match for my friend, Comet.
The sight actually made me laugh. It made my coworker scared of me. Apparently, she thought it was sadistic.
It's a BUG. Okay? I don't find anything sadistic about it.
Not really.
Maybe a little.
But you know what, in order to live in my happy place, I need to embrace my inner sadist every now and then.
You should try it. It's kinda fun.
It's better than leaving Kaitlin to fend for herself.
That said, I'd much rather remove them from my presence than deal with them invading my space.
But this is easier said than done.
Especially if they are one of two things:
1. Fast-moving.
2. Hard-shelled critters.
The fast-moving ones are a pain in the rear to catch and dispose of. What's even worse though, is if they have the hard shells. Creatures with the hard shells are often time the most difficult to get rid of. You don't want to step on them, lest you're met with the loud crunching then SQUISHing sound escaping from their crushed bodies. Let's face it. I don't care if you're Chuck Norris. That's just nasty. Nobody wants to hear that.
So, what's a person to do?
Get out the heavy duty bathroom cleaner. Or kitchen cleaner. Or disinfectant. Or any household detergent filled with harsh, abrasive, industrial strength chemicals.
And then you spray. Or pour. Or douse. Whatever strikes your fancy.
And then you watch.
I would imagine their ordeal plays out a little like this:
The bug you are trying to kill is simply strolling along, minding it's own business, with no intention of harassing you, when suddenly they are met with a lovely light drizzle from heaven-ward.
No biggie.
Dum-dee-dum-dee-dum.
Along they shuffle, footloose, fancy-free when...
WHAM!
They're suddenly disoriented, paralyzed, slammed with intense pain radiating throughout their crunchy-creepy-crawly body.
But they've faced worse. So, they shake it off and they're up and running.
Dum-dee-dum-dee-dum.
When...
WHAM-BAM!
Uh-oh. They're down for a longer count this time.
They crawl forward. They creep back. They scrunch up their legs, they stretch them out...
And it's over.
All thanks to Lysol or Pinesol or Rubbing Alcohol or Febreeze or what have you.
My sister and I have killed our buggy friends this way for years.
It's not only effective, but it's ick-free for the killer.
Not so for the bug, but you can't have it both ways when you're trying to off the enemy, right?
I work with some people at the store who will do anything to keep from killing a bug. Even the ugly ones. Instead, they will catch them and release them...BACK INTO NATURE WHERE THEY CAN JUST DO THE SAME THING ALL OVER AGAIN TO SOME POOR UNSUSPECTING SIX YEAR OLD WITH RINGLET CURLS AND BRIGHT BLUES EYES NAMED KAITLIN WHO'S JUST TRYING TO GET HOME TO FEED HER CAT, MIMI.
I don't think that's fair, people. Sure, put them back out there to harm someone else. Isn't that a bit like letting a stray, rabid dog roam a playground at noon in early September?
HUH?
I once had a spider "friend" visit me at work in the bathroom. We'll call him Igor. Igor was HUGE. And I'm pretty sure he ate all his off-spring in order to get this way. But I digress.
I couldn't take care of business with Igor sitting there, waiting to pounce, so I enlisted the help of my tree-hugging friend to get rid of him. But she wouldn't. She said he would be instrumental in maintaining a healthy eco-system.
Healthy eco-system my you-know-what.
I couldn't KILL him with my foot. He was UGE!!! And when I say, UGE, I mean like bigger than my left ear lobe and then some.
So, I took out the Comet.
Squirt, squirt.
And I was back to work.
A few hours later, my coworker entered the bathroom literally HORRIFIED by the sight she found on the bathroom floor. A flattened Igor, dead from the harsh chemical fumes. Apparently he thought he could outsmart the attack by flattening himself out. But he was no match for my friend, Comet.
The sight actually made me laugh. It made my coworker scared of me. Apparently, she thought it was sadistic.
It's a BUG. Okay? I don't find anything sadistic about it.
Not really.
Maybe a little.
But you know what, in order to live in my happy place, I need to embrace my inner sadist every now and then.
You should try it. It's kinda fun.
It's better than leaving Kaitlin to fend for herself.
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Randomization
Just for the record, I have a zit the size of Cincinnatti on my face, and yes I'm already aware of it, so no, there is no need to point it out to me. Thanks for looking out for me though.
Secondly, I may need a new set of tires soon if I cannot learn how NOT to ram my car into the curb every time I park on the street thus creating the most gosh awful, loud, embarrassing noise for every onlooker on the street to stop and listen to.
Thirdly, the groom now has more guests coming to the wedding than I have. The wedding is in my hometown, and apparently no one in town can be bothered to drive a few flippin' blocks to come to it. But his guests can travel hundreds of miles and pay up the Ying-Yang for a hotel room just to see him get married. Guess who is more loved? I am now working on my Reception Line Spiel. It is as follows: "Hi, I'm Sueanne. No, not Suzanne. SUE-ANNE. No, not Susan. SUE-ANNE. No, not Joanne... SUE-ANNE. Like, two separate words. Like on the Waltons. You know what? Just call me Sue. It's much easier. Yes, I do know how handsome he looks. Yes, I'm sure he's your favorite nephew. Yes, I do know how lucky I am. Yes, I know he frickin' rocks. Can we move the line along now? You're holding things up. Thanks. No, I don't mind if you call me Susan if it's easier for you to remember. Jerks."
Seriously. I'm practicing my drop-kick in case that happens to me.
Fourthly, I have no idea what this particular post is about. I think I just feel like whining. I don't whine much...mostly I just cry. Lately, it's become like a hobby to me. Seriously, you could answer with "crying" to any one of the following questions:
"What's Sue up to these days?"
"What does Sue like to do for fun?"
"What is Sue passionate about?"
"How has Sue been keeping herself busy?"
I think Joel is a bit afraid of me. And rightly so. There's nothing wrong with instilling a little bit of fear and reverence into your future husband.
I kid, I kid.
Mostly.
If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go practice parking now.
Secondly, I may need a new set of tires soon if I cannot learn how NOT to ram my car into the curb every time I park on the street thus creating the most gosh awful, loud, embarrassing noise for every onlooker on the street to stop and listen to.
Thirdly, the groom now has more guests coming to the wedding than I have. The wedding is in my hometown, and apparently no one in town can be bothered to drive a few flippin' blocks to come to it. But his guests can travel hundreds of miles and pay up the Ying-Yang for a hotel room just to see him get married. Guess who is more loved? I am now working on my Reception Line Spiel. It is as follows: "Hi, I'm Sueanne. No, not Suzanne. SUE-ANNE. No, not Susan. SUE-ANNE. No, not Joanne... SUE-ANNE. Like, two separate words. Like on the Waltons. You know what? Just call me Sue. It's much easier. Yes, I do know how handsome he looks. Yes, I'm sure he's your favorite nephew. Yes, I do know how lucky I am. Yes, I know he frickin' rocks. Can we move the line along now? You're holding things up. Thanks. No, I don't mind if you call me Susan if it's easier for you to remember. Jerks."
Seriously. I'm practicing my drop-kick in case that happens to me.
Fourthly, I have no idea what this particular post is about. I think I just feel like whining. I don't whine much...mostly I just cry. Lately, it's become like a hobby to me. Seriously, you could answer with "crying" to any one of the following questions:
"What's Sue up to these days?"
"What does Sue like to do for fun?"
"What is Sue passionate about?"
"How has Sue been keeping herself busy?"
I think Joel is a bit afraid of me. And rightly so. There's nothing wrong with instilling a little bit of fear and reverence into your future husband.
I kid, I kid.
Mostly.
If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go practice parking now.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
For serious
I was standing behind the counter today when a customer came up to me and asked...
"Do you work here?"
"Do you work here?"
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Guest Lists
So, can I ask...
During this whole "wedding planning" thing...has anyone else completely freaked out about the number of guests coming to your shin-dig?
Because that's all I can worry about lately.
I'm so concerned that the church will be empty, and there will be no reason to even have a reception.
Apparently...
NO ONE WANTS TO COME TO MY WEDDING!!!
And I know I shouldn't be concerned about how many people are coming...it's not a popularity contest...but when you realize, no one really cares enough to come...it not only hurts a little bit...it also makes you feel really, REALLY lame.
Because, if the church is empty, and the reception is like Reading Day at the library...
I'm going to feel like a big-fat LOSER.
Um...am I the only one who's worried about this? Or has this happened to other people? And would someone please console me and tell me it doesn't really matter???
*sigh*
During this whole "wedding planning" thing...has anyone else completely freaked out about the number of guests coming to your shin-dig?
Because that's all I can worry about lately.
I'm so concerned that the church will be empty, and there will be no reason to even have a reception.
Apparently...
NO ONE WANTS TO COME TO MY WEDDING!!!
And I know I shouldn't be concerned about how many people are coming...it's not a popularity contest...but when you realize, no one really cares enough to come...it not only hurts a little bit...it also makes you feel really, REALLY lame.
Because, if the church is empty, and the reception is like Reading Day at the library...
I'm going to feel like a big-fat LOSER.
Um...am I the only one who's worried about this? Or has this happened to other people? And would someone please console me and tell me it doesn't really matter???
*sigh*
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Now, you're just pullin' my leg!
I had a strikingly handsome customer come up to the counter today and ask me the following question:
"The price on the anchor bookends you have... is that the price for the set, or just for one of them?"
Selling bookends separately...
Isn't that a bit like selling the salt shaker without the pepper grinder?
I mean, I'm just asking, but what good is one bookend going to do you? Not much. Not much at all.
Silly people.
"The price on the anchor bookends you have... is that the price for the set, or just for one of them?"
Selling bookends separately...
Isn't that a bit like selling the salt shaker without the pepper grinder?
I mean, I'm just asking, but what good is one bookend going to do you? Not much. Not much at all.
Silly people.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Men as Pigs
Has anyone else noticed the recent TV commercials promoting the idea of "All men are pigs"? Or is it just me?
The Klondike Bar commercial? The hot girl wiggles by as a husband and wife are discussing something and the announcer comes on and states "So and So kept his eyes on his wife the entire time. Give that guy a Klondike Bar."
So, now we're supposed to reward men for not being total pigs? As though we shouldn't just expect it out of them?
Or the Kohler commercial? The guy sees the hot plumber chick on the street, runs back into the house and dumps all kinds of items down the toilet to clog it up so he can have hot plumber lady come in to fix it. But the toilet works so well, he can't clog it up. And then his wife wanders in and gives him a look of "What the..." And we're all supposed to laugh.
Ha-ha?
Or even the Verizon one where the boyfriend and girlfriend are talking (or rather she is) and he doesn't want to listen, so instead he focuses his attention on the hot girls coming down the sidewalk, flips his phone over as they walk past so he can see their rear view in his phone. Ha-HA! Now that is just clever.
Really?
Why is the media promoting the idea that all men are pigs, jerks and imbeciles? If I went according to what the media told me, I'd be a lesbian by now. Especially considering the fact that apparently men can't stand listening to women talk, they're lazy, they think with their joy-stick and not their head, and their level of normal functioning is so low it's up to the woman to mold them into above-average contributing members of society.
Is anyone else bothered by this?
Or are these stereotypes now okay with everyone?
The Klondike Bar commercial? The hot girl wiggles by as a husband and wife are discussing something and the announcer comes on and states "So and So kept his eyes on his wife the entire time. Give that guy a Klondike Bar."
So, now we're supposed to reward men for not being total pigs? As though we shouldn't just expect it out of them?
Or the Kohler commercial? The guy sees the hot plumber chick on the street, runs back into the house and dumps all kinds of items down the toilet to clog it up so he can have hot plumber lady come in to fix it. But the toilet works so well, he can't clog it up. And then his wife wanders in and gives him a look of "What the..." And we're all supposed to laugh.
Ha-ha?
Or even the Verizon one where the boyfriend and girlfriend are talking (or rather she is) and he doesn't want to listen, so instead he focuses his attention on the hot girls coming down the sidewalk, flips his phone over as they walk past so he can see their rear view in his phone. Ha-HA! Now that is just clever.
Really?
Why is the media promoting the idea that all men are pigs, jerks and imbeciles? If I went according to what the media told me, I'd be a lesbian by now. Especially considering the fact that apparently men can't stand listening to women talk, they're lazy, they think with their joy-stick and not their head, and their level of normal functioning is so low it's up to the woman to mold them into above-average contributing members of society.
Is anyone else bothered by this?
Or are these stereotypes now okay with everyone?
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