So, I got my hair cut today. I’d show you a picture, but actually? You can just look at any one of the pictures on this here blawg, and that’ll give you a pretty good idea what I look like because my hair, it never changes, NEVER. This one time, I went back to my old high school in my capacity as a reporter (one of their students had won an award, and that was the kind of exciting news I got to cover), and one of my old teachers (old as in “It’s been a while since I left school”, not old as in “old”) was all, “God, Amber, you haven’t changed since you were 15.” I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
Oooh! Actually, now I come to think of it, one time my hair did change. I was the last client of the day, and the hairdresser was obviously a) desperate to get home and b) a vindictive bitch, because she chose to interpret my “could you layer it gently around the sides, please” as “could you hack viciously into my hair, leaving me with a MULLET please, because I would like that.” Being the non-confrontational type that I am (no, really), I said nothing about this, paid, smiled, then went out to the car and HOWLED.
Other examples of my cowardice in the face of hairdressers:
- Sitting for half an hour with one of those butterfly clip things clamped onto my ear. Only mentioning it when it became clear to my eight-year-old self that my ear would totally DROP OFF if I didn’t.
- Allowing an over-enthusiastic trainee hairdresser to almost decapitate me during a twenty minute “Indian head massage” which involved the back off my neck resting against the edge of the sink, causing me to almost lose all sensation in the lower half of my body.
- Allowing various hairdressers to force me to stand up for the duration of my haircut, even that one in Vidal Sassoon that time who made me stand up when I had the flu (why did I keep my hair appointment when I had the flu? Who knows?!), and only let me sit back down when I told her I would probably faint if I didn’t.
Now I get my hair cut at home by my own personal hairdresser, Carol, who is the only person I trust, and if I ever become rich and famous I will be forced to fly Carol around the world to cut my hair. So that’s who cut my hair today, and let me tell you, it was the highlight of the last few days. Other highlights:
- Finishing the book about the gypsy who fell in love with an Earl. (Result: the gypsy married the Earl. So didn’t see that one coming.)
- Being forced to watch The Worst Film Of All Time, Ever, by Terry, who had clearly been smoking crack at the time. (Yes, it was even worse than The Cable Guy. I know!) Basic plot: a Very Bad Thing happens to a blonde woman. We are shown The Very Bad Thing happening in gruesome detail. Blonde woman climbs down a hole with her friends. More Very Bad Things Happen. Some Even Worse Things Happen. The End.
- Deciding to watch another movie directly after this, so as to get the gruesome images left by TWFOATE out of our heads. Stupidly selecting The Second Worst Film of All Time, Ever. Plot: Adam tries to get Eve to sleep with him. Eve doesn’t, but then she does. The End.
- Going Christmas shopping. Spending a lot of money in TK Maxx.
- None of it on shoes. GOD.
- Being broke now. Happy Christmas, our families!
- Being too lazy to write a proper entry, so resorting once again to the trusty old list format. Go, me!
With a bit of luck I will soon do something stupid and/or potentially harmful to myself and will be able to tell you all about it. Until then, you’re just going to have to bear with me folks – it’s going to be a long, hard winter…