Aurora Borealis Comes In Yooooou
I'm having a bad hair day. Scratch that. I'm having a bad hair week. Am I concerned? Not really, but if it continues for much longer, I may have to take drastic measures. Here's the deal. I got my hair cut a week ago Saturday, and what should have been a fairly routine occurrence ended up not being so at all.
I walked into the salon and was told by the somewhat distracted receptionist that Renee, the woman who cuts my hair (whom I've mentioned in this blog before), had already left in order to go to the Emergency Room to get her kidney looked at. You can imagine the look of befuddlement on my face. Well... maybe you can't if you've never seen my face, but trust me, it was befuddled. I was befuddled. Before I could express this befuddlement to the now attentive receptionist, she (perhaps noting my look of befuddlement) chimed in again and told me they'd be happy to either reschedule, or if I were willing to wait, then another stylist, Grace, could cut my hair. Whew. Befuddlement, be gone! Grace has arrived! Praise be!
I was familiar with Grace. She'd cut my hair a few years before when Renee was on maternity leave and done an excellent job, particularly considering she'd never done so before and wasn't privy to the manner in which I liked it cut. Granted, I'm not particularly picky these days. When you go with long hair for five years, like I did from '96-'01, and you manage to convince yourself that you look good, when in fact you look like the second coming of Johnny Tremain, it's time to let someone else be the judge of good hair style. I have entrusted Renee (and every so often, Grace) with this responsibility in recent years. Based on other people's comments, they haven't failed me yet, unless of course my friends are simply too nice to tell me.
So anyway, Grace finally finished with her previous client so she had the assistant (whom I tipped - see above link) shampoo my hair before sitting me down and getting to work. While she's snipping away, conversation strikes up.
"So, Grace, what's the deal? Renee went to go have her kidney looked at? Is this a fairly regular occurrence? What does she do, just plop it up on the counter and say, 'I think something's wrong?' I mean, a kidney is not something the average person can readily diagnose as being well, er... ill."
"Naw, naw... nuthin' like that. She's been havin' a pain in her side all week and it's been gettin' worse each day. Finally today, she walks in limpin'. I told her she betta get herself to the doctah's or else she's in real trouble. I had a kidney infection once, and the exact same thing happened. I was in bed fuh two weeks."
"Jesus."
"Yah."
We continued to discuss Renee's medical woes (Here's hoping she's OK. I still don't know. She's a fantastic woman with a great personality, and can cut a mean head of hair) while Grace did her thing. Towards the end of the cut she asked me to look up and see if everything looked O.K.. It was kind of hard to tell at first, as my bangs were in my eyes. I brushed them aside and said,
"Sorry, but do you think you could trim the bangs a little bit more, please?"
"Shu-ah."
She took about another 1/2 inch off, and then had me look again. By this point it looked decent enough. Although, it was a tad bit different than previous cuts, I was more than pleased with the results given the current circumstances. Why split hairs? (Get it? Split... hairs? Pun most certainly intended.... Ooooh, man... I kill me.) Grace then threw some crazy nouveau styling gel shit in my hair and proceeded to give it the "wind blown" look, which was fine. I'm only a short train ride from the salon and few people saw me on the trek from there to my home. Once there, I washed the gel out, ran a comb through it and I was back to my normal self.
Now, one week later, I'm thinking splitting hairs might have been the wise choice. In the short bit my hair has grown in, I'm noticing that it's a bit more uneven than I thought. This is not Grace's fault, by any stretch. It's my own for not noticing it beforehand. Today, after I threw some gel in myself (but not the crazy nouveau styling shit Grace used. CVS brand for me, baby. Nothing but the best) it looked like I had an 80's coiffure with bangs going down one side. It's nothing horrific... yet. If things continue on their present course, however, there's a good chance I'll be looking like that cat from A Flock Of Seagulls. Or not. This could just be a case of "scissor shock", as Renee likes to call it. My plan is to let it grow in further still and see what happens. Maybe it'll be Flock of Seagulls. Maybe Duran Duran. Maybe, if I wait REALLY long it'll be Def Leppard (actually no.. been down that road before.) Maybe it'll just turn into normal Eric hair, assuming there is such a thing. Whatever. I just wanted to tell you all so that you're not shocked the next time you see me. But, more importantly, I'm looking for an excuse to post A Flock Of Seagulls song.
Now I have one.
And you thought I was done posting 80's music. Puh-LEEZE.
Have fun everybody.
Download: A Flock Of Seagulls - I Ran
I walked into the salon and was told by the somewhat distracted receptionist that Renee, the woman who cuts my hair (whom I've mentioned in this blog before), had already left in order to go to the Emergency Room to get her kidney looked at. You can imagine the look of befuddlement on my face. Well... maybe you can't if you've never seen my face, but trust me, it was befuddled. I was befuddled. Before I could express this befuddlement to the now attentive receptionist, she (perhaps noting my look of befuddlement) chimed in again and told me they'd be happy to either reschedule, or if I were willing to wait, then another stylist, Grace, could cut my hair. Whew. Befuddlement, be gone! Grace has arrived! Praise be!
I was familiar with Grace. She'd cut my hair a few years before when Renee was on maternity leave and done an excellent job, particularly considering she'd never done so before and wasn't privy to the manner in which I liked it cut. Granted, I'm not particularly picky these days. When you go with long hair for five years, like I did from '96-'01, and you manage to convince yourself that you look good, when in fact you look like the second coming of Johnny Tremain, it's time to let someone else be the judge of good hair style. I have entrusted Renee (and every so often, Grace) with this responsibility in recent years. Based on other people's comments, they haven't failed me yet, unless of course my friends are simply too nice to tell me.
So anyway, Grace finally finished with her previous client so she had the assistant (whom I tipped - see above link) shampoo my hair before sitting me down and getting to work. While she's snipping away, conversation strikes up.
"So, Grace, what's the deal? Renee went to go have her kidney looked at? Is this a fairly regular occurrence? What does she do, just plop it up on the counter and say, 'I think something's wrong?' I mean, a kidney is not something the average person can readily diagnose as being well, er... ill."
"Naw, naw... nuthin' like that. She's been havin' a pain in her side all week and it's been gettin' worse each day. Finally today, she walks in limpin'. I told her she betta get herself to the doctah's or else she's in real trouble. I had a kidney infection once, and the exact same thing happened. I was in bed fuh two weeks."
"Jesus."
"Yah."
We continued to discuss Renee's medical woes (Here's hoping she's OK. I still don't know. She's a fantastic woman with a great personality, and can cut a mean head of hair) while Grace did her thing. Towards the end of the cut she asked me to look up and see if everything looked O.K.. It was kind of hard to tell at first, as my bangs were in my eyes. I brushed them aside and said,
"Sorry, but do you think you could trim the bangs a little bit more, please?"
"Shu-ah."
She took about another 1/2 inch off, and then had me look again. By this point it looked decent enough. Although, it was a tad bit different than previous cuts, I was more than pleased with the results given the current circumstances. Why split hairs? (Get it? Split... hairs? Pun most certainly intended.... Ooooh, man... I kill me.) Grace then threw some crazy nouveau styling gel shit in my hair and proceeded to give it the "wind blown" look, which was fine. I'm only a short train ride from the salon and few people saw me on the trek from there to my home. Once there, I washed the gel out, ran a comb through it and I was back to my normal self.
Now, one week later, I'm thinking splitting hairs might have been the wise choice. In the short bit my hair has grown in, I'm noticing that it's a bit more uneven than I thought. This is not Grace's fault, by any stretch. It's my own for not noticing it beforehand. Today, after I threw some gel in myself (but not the crazy nouveau styling shit Grace used. CVS brand for me, baby. Nothing but the best) it looked like I had an 80's coiffure with bangs going down one side. It's nothing horrific... yet. If things continue on their present course, however, there's a good chance I'll be looking like that cat from A Flock Of Seagulls. Or not. This could just be a case of "scissor shock", as Renee likes to call it. My plan is to let it grow in further still and see what happens. Maybe it'll be Flock of Seagulls. Maybe Duran Duran. Maybe, if I wait REALLY long it'll be Def Leppard (actually no.. been down that road before.) Maybe it'll just turn into normal Eric hair, assuming there is such a thing. Whatever. I just wanted to tell you all so that you're not shocked the next time you see me. But, more importantly, I'm looking for an excuse to post A Flock Of Seagulls song.
Now I have one.
And you thought I was done posting 80's music. Puh-LEEZE.
Have fun everybody.
posted by Eric at 5:29 PM
2 Comments:
Speaking of having a tune stuck in one's head...a co-worker told me her favorite gameshow was The Price Is Right. Not only is that little jingle now stuck in my head but I keep hearing Johnny Olsen saying "Come on down!" Help me. Is there medication for this sort of thing? Now I'm hearing Ernie Boch Jr. too.
Oh dear. That's pretty rough. A guy I knew in college got picked to be a contestant on The Price Is Right. Contrary to popular opinion, the selection isn't a random one at all. They screen everyone as they're waiting in line to enter the studio. Those that are the biggest characters usually end up getting picked. By the way, the theme song is now stuck in my head too. Thanks a lot.
Ernie Boch Jr... at least it wasn't Ernie Sr. you were thinking about. Remember how he would inexplicably have the llama run across the showroom floor at the end of the commerical while saying, "Hey Chica!" (Ernie, not the llama)
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