kind of like the one Alice fell into...
fewer psychedelic drugs, talking animals and well, rabbits.
but otherwise, it was strikingly similar.
first lunch, then hair dyeing.
a success, generally.
we giggled a lot--
and laughed even more.
i even snorted once.
my eyebrows are either way too dark or way too bushy.
i'll have to fuck with them.
and it was either some strange coincidence, or the dress code required the stylists to all wear black.
there was the most gorgeous little girl with dreadlocks.
tall, pale thing, with dark dreads down her back.
i was dying to watch her for long enough to feel her personality so i could write more about her.
and there were several oddly non-gay male stylists.
it took over 5 hours for 2 girls to do Becky's hair.
which was, apparently, not a surprise to Becky.
the 3 hours it took to trim less than an inch off her friend's hair was a bit strange, though.
MY hair was the fastest.
thank god, cuz i woulda freaked.
when my hair was finished, i went next door and worked out--
smartie fartie Lisa took her gym clothes and ipod to the salon.
even if i had dark splotches near my hairline from the dye...
oh, and as i headed over there, my phone rang.
some people wanted to come see our house (which is sorta still for sale)...
in an HOUR.
there were 2 extra kids here, plus my step son, which made FIVE kids.
and a teenage babysiter...
and i had no way to get here and clean up before they arrived.
they were warned.
...watch 'em make an offer.
i thought i would pass out from sheer boredom before leaving that place.
but i didn't.
i also thought i might get a little loopy from all the chemicals.
and there was much chaos after that.
but i'll leave it out.
i'll only mention that it included me eating 4 pieces of pizza, 2 breadsticks and a piece of cheesecake.
what the fuck's the matter with me????
well, i was hungry.
my brain is numb.
all i can think about are the girls who did our hair.
and how funny becky looked with tinfoil all over her head.
and how loooooooong C.'s hair is.
and that one stylist whose ass kept hanging out of her pants.
and NOT in a good way.
(but really, IS there a good way??)
i need my husband to get home so he can fuck me.
that offer expired a couple of hours ago.
god damn estrogen. or progesterone.
or whatever the fuck is responsible for this annoyance.
are you glad i shared that?
i hope you're blushing, or squirming or disgusted.
i do hope you're living life to the fullest, though.
--whatever that may mean to you.
and i hope that you're not too hard on yourselves.
and that you believe you deserve the best.
i hope you haven't settled, or that you're not willing to.
i hope you figure out that being happy doesn't mean every day is perfection.
i hope you remember to give, gladly, of your time and talents.
i also hope you don't let others take advantage of you.
and one more, for me...
i hope i can find a time in the day to have some peace, some quiet every day.
so that i can be a better me, or a better man,
...possibly even all that i can be, in the army or something similar.
what i should do, is less crack.
did that joke go out in the 90's?
i worked with this kid once, at a restaurant, who said stuff like that ALL the time.
he was funny--in a good way.
one day he didn't show up to work.
...he had been pulled over and found in possession of a bunch of CRACK, and had escaped custody and was missing/wanted.
can you say...."Lisa's clueless"?
he joked about crack, so i assumed that he had no experience.
that's when the whole "ass out of you and me" policy comes into play.
dammmmmit, my neck hurts.
i think it is jealous of the head massage i got.
NO, SICKOS--not the head massage i GAVE.
on my scalp.
i do give a mean handjob, though.
thanks for asking.
i'm going to go, before i do anymore damage.