Who else was raped by their stylist?

John Edwards for one. http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/07/04/AR2007070401258.html

For me, it's kinda a love affair. No, make that a love/hate relationship. Me and the scissors. Me and the bottle of bleach and hair dye. Me and my stylist...my hair lady. I love the way I look after a great cut and style but hate the price I have to pay for it. And I'm not just talking about the way I'm raped in the pocket book. I pay with my integrity and common sense.

It started long ago when I got a perm when I was like 10. Oh the curls, the joyful spiral curls! I felt like a new girl prancing around school with my new do. But then it grew out and I needed another perm, and another, and another. It got expensive. I tried the home kit a few years later. My brown hair turned orange and became dry and frizzy. Time to go back to the salon. Just one more perm I thought, I'll save up for it. And I did. Thank God the perm went out with the eighties.

But then I found out about highlights and how I could reinvent my identity. I could capture the feeling of sun kissed hair all year. Then I went through the red phase. Suddenly I was mysterious. I couldn't possibly let my red fade. I wanted more. I wanted long layers. I wanted bangs that needed an "every two week trim." Who can afford that at $20 a snip? So I went shaggy and let *Karen give me a razor cut. How could I let someone with a razor blade come near my head? What the hell was I thinking?

Things have gotten out of hand. I have hit my low. My bottom. My bottom is exactly $246 plus $50 for a tip. (There were two people. Why one person cutting one head of hair needs an assistant I don't know) The crime occurred yesterday between the hours of 1:30pm and 4:30pm. I came in for highlights thinking it would be a wham bame hour and a half job that would only set me back $150 at max. But throughout the course of 4 hours I was swindled into a cut, color, highlights, toner, glaze and more color. I say swindled because no one said, "We'd like to rape you financially are you OK with that?" They just went ahead and did it. Yes, OK I knew about the cut. But I didn't know they raised their prices for a cut to $56! It's just freakin' hair people! That is more than my phone bill each month! I got up to the counter to pay for my crime and *Tiffany said "That will be two hundred and forty-six dollars, would you like to put the tip on your card as well?" Huh? Wha? How much? I was stunned. Flabbergasted. And like a jackass I shelled out the coin....plus tip...for...both people.

I walked out of there feeling like a moron with my tail between my legs. I was just had. Why didn't I say something? Why didn't I speak up? Because I didn't want to piss off my hairstylist for fear that next time she will really fuck up my hair. She is one powerful woman. Sure I could go see someone else next time but then we'd have to start all over again getting to know one another like a first date and you know how awkward those are.

Hairstylists will never go out of business because there is a serious addiction in this county to their drug. I can't live a life of mousy brown, split ends and grey temples. It doesn't matter how much they charge us we will pay their fee, take our drug and keep our mouths shut! They are no better than drug dealers. TWO HUNDRED AND FORTY SIX DOLLARS (plus tip). Do you know what that buys you? A plane ticket! An Ipod! This is insane and I say to you we must stop the insanity! Women of the United States get a hold of yourselves! We have lost our minds. We look damn good with our inverted bobs and chunky highlights but crazy none the less.

*Names have been changed to protect the guilty rapists involved

Avoid these people:
http://www.forbes.com/2006/06/13/expensive-hair-salons_cx_sy_0614featb_ls.html?partner=email

What grosses me out?

This is a compilation that has taken me about 24 hours to come up with. It is not your average grossness like a dirty diaper. It is really sceevy things that make my toes curl with horror.

Spit that collects in the corners of people's mouths and then turns whitish.
The junk and food particles that are left over in your sink after the dirty dishes sit there.
Leftover toothpaste that collects just below the bristles on your toothbrush.
Feet. Anything to do with them including but not limited to toe jam, cheese, dead skin around the nail, bunions, corns and callouses. I cannot discuss this any further. I think I just threw up a little in my mouth.
The smell of hot garbage. Especially if it is in a parking garage.
The area just outside of the back of a restaurant. Where the cooks have smoke breaks. It smells like old burnt food and the huge dumpster of garbage is usually there. A few stray cats or rats linger there looking for scraps of food.
Lots of old white men in suits gathered together. You know at least one of them molested a child, several of them cheated on their wives and most of them cheated on their taxes.
The ring around a bathtub. What is that? Am I that dirty?
Hairs left in the bathtub after a woman shaves.
Gardening. Specifically digging in dirt. Not so much putting a plant into the dirt but making a hole and seeing worms slither out of the dirt into the hole I just made.
While we are on the topic, beatles. Not the band although I'm not too fond of them either. I mean the bugs. With their hard shells and wings. Ugh!
And Love Bugs. Native to Florida, the crunchy bugs fly around while they are connected to one another having sex until they die. They get caught in my hair and stick to the front of my car. I did not make this one up.
Pink Gum stuck to hot pavement.
The smell of old apple juice left in a thermos in a lunch box. This really made me sick when I was a teacher.
The diaper pail in my son's room. It is the worst smell known to man. It burns the inside of my nose hairs when I have to change the pail.
The crumbs that fall off my kitchen counter top and into my utensil drawer. They actually take up residence inside each plastic slot that holds my knives, forks and spoons.
The plastic, latexy smell of a condom. A condom should be disposed of properly and immediately after use before snuggle time sets in.
Long hairs that fall into my butt crack throughout the day. Hmm? What's this doing here?
Door handles. They are dirty and you should never, EVER touch them with the bare hand.
Dirty tissues left in coat pockets from the winter before.
The floor of a movie theater. You know dozens of sodas were spilled there. Candy and chocolate have melted on to those floors and I'm pretty sure no one ever washes it. Is is a hard floor or carpet? I don't know but my feet always stick to it. Nasty.
Used band-aids left in the shower.
When you go to get your hair colored and they put this goo around your face so the color doesn't get on your skin...eww the feeling of it is gross. It's cold and goopy and I just don't like it.
The fluoride treatment at the dentist. The taste of it is nasty flavor mixed with cherry flavor. And the consistency of it makes my skin crawl. I hate having to sit there for 10 minutes with it around my teeth and gums.
Stuff on window sills. Like dead bugs, dust and the likes there of. If I go to your house and can write my name in the filth on your sill I'm leaving.
The junk that comes out of your earlobe holes when you've had a pair of earrings in too long. You know what I'm talking about, it's all crusty.

And the top two things that gross me out beyond belief:
1. The dirt and debris that collects from the vacuum. We had to return our new bagless vacuum because I refused to clean out the gunk. I can't even look at it. Seriously. The pet hair, dust bunnies, random bugs, food particles etc.

2. The words moist and pus gross me out completely.

Why do babyish words end in "Y" or IE"?

You know what I mean, "ouch-y" or "pac-i". Or blank-ie. Where did this come from? It's not like my kid is not going to like something just because the word I'm using ends in a hard sounding consonant. Honey do you want your blankie? Yes please. Honey do you want your blankET? AHHH noooooo! Not the blankET!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Does an IE or Y at the end of the word make the item all that more appealing? Na. So why do we do it? I'll admit I'm the first one to throw around an Icky or shoeys. And heck I think I've even said "did you get a booboo-ie?" Booboo-ie, what the hell is that?

There are many appropriate times to add the Y. Like mommy and daddy. Or poopy. Those are three staples that must not change and sound perfectly fine.

But for the other instances do we realize how stupid we sound talking to our kids? Do we care?

What the hell?

Possum here, possum there, possum everywhere!

I believe in fate, destiny. Everything happens for a reason. God, a higher power and what not. But this is just strange.

About a month ago I was leaving my house and noticed a neighbor in the street just outside of my house. She had a box and was walking over to a heap of dark fur. Low and behold there was an opposum on the road. I asked her what she was doing and she pointed at it and said "babies!" I got closer and sure enough there were little pink babies squirming around in the fur. Aww, babies. I know possum (round her in the south we take off the "O" in Opposum) are quite ugly but all babies are cute. She picked up the dead critter and put it into a box and took it to a vets office. But I was so puzzled. How could momma possum be dead and the babies were still alive? And there was no blood? Did she give birth? Was she hit by a car and only a small hole was made in her belly?

So for the next week I told several people about this and most of them were horrified at the thought of pink babies crawling around on their mother. I googled Opossum. There it was, possum are marsupials. They carry their babies in a pouch. That explains it.

But it didn't answer the question of what happened to the babies. Did they survive? Did someone take them in and bottle feed them. Were they going to be set free back into the wild? Part of me didn't want to know the answer. And a part of me was mad at the person who hit and killed the mom. Damn that urban sprawl! Damn those developers who built this neighborhood on top of the possums land.

Two days later I was driving home with some friends in the car late at night down a dark road. We were all laughing and talking when Diddums (not his real name) screamed "Watch out!!!" I slammed on my breaks and came to a complete stop. I almost had a heart attack. There before me was another freakin' possum! It was just sitting in the middle of the road with its beady little eyes staring at my headlights. And it wouldn't move! "All right little guy get the hell outta my way!" Nope. So I drove around it. I thought only bunnies froze in the face of fear?

Third time is a charm.

Yesterday I notice Gus (our ferocious beast of a dog) didn't want to go outside. He would get to the doorway and stop. Turn around and come back in only to want to go outside two minutes later. After 15 minutes of this I decided maybe my silly dog had a reason for not wanting to go outside and I should just trust his instincts. I looked around the backyard. Hmm? Nothin'. Time to call for backup. Husband. T walks outside and directly next to the back door leaning up against the house is the cover to our hot tub. He pulls it back quickly and screams! Ahhhhh! I hear this hissing sound. He yells "POSSUM!!!" Wouldn't you know it another freaking possum!

How can one person have three encounters with possum in one month? I mean how many have you had in your whole life? None right? This possum wouldn't leave our house. It just hung out next to the door for hours. I know we are cool and all but go away, my dog needs to use our backyard as a bathroom! How do they go from being cute pink babies to ugly mean bitches? Although this particular possum was a dude, I saw its jewels. Possum are the Tom Petty of animals. If he were an actor he'd be Christopher Walkin. Scary! Look at those teeth? Ugh, nasty.

So what does Karma have to do with my possum encounter? What is my higher power trying to tell me? I'm afraid if I don't have answers soon another one will bless me with its presence and this time I'm calling for better backup that is armed and dangerous!

Where is the food?

Why is it that the more you pay for food the less food you get?

A few years ago hubby and I (boyfriend at the time) decided to bail out on our families and go on a trip for Thanksgiving. We wanted to splurge on turkey day dinner since we wouldn't be with out families. So we made reservations at this expensive restaurant that everyone raved about. I don't know about you but I pig out on Thanksgiving. I mean two servings of mashed taters...yes please! Triple the stuffing, lotsa gravy and a huge piece of apple pie. Well our dinner was served as follows: a sliver of turkey with one cranberry on the side, spoonful of mashed potatoes, teaspoon of stuffing, three asparagus sticks and a fru fru garnish. That's it! Don't disrespect me with your garnish! Yeah it was tasty but it just tempted my tummy to want more, a mere appetizer if you will. The only thing hefty about that meal was the bill.

Have you ever left MacDonald's hungry or broke. No. Impossible. You only need to spend $5 bucks and you get a huge meal complete with side items and what not. And you get cholesterol and heart trouble at no extra cost. Sweet!

So, I took the hubby out for a birthday dinner. He wanted to go to some fancy shmancy steakhouse. I got the Mahi Mahi. There were two little fins on my plate surrounded by tomatoes and onions. I'm like is this Nemo? WTF? Where is my starch? Where are the veggies? I was starving when I came in and I was starving when I left. Not to mention broke! This should be illegal. There should be a law that says the more money that you spend the more food that you get. I was ripped off, hoodwinked, bamboozled.

What's so funny?

(This post is in honor of my friend Melanie)
I admit, I have a cruel streak in me. I get a chuckle at other's people's expense. I bet you do too. So, wanna know what's funny?

When you see someone leaving a store walking through a parking lot and they go up to the wrong car and think it's theirs. And they click the remote unlock button as they are walking up to the car and nothing happens. But the lights on THEIR car a few isles away are flashing. And they are all confused and start trying to open the door handle. "Huh, why won't my car door open?" But DUH its not their car!!!!! They look inside the window. "Huh where is my stuff and why is the interior of my car brown not blue?" They slowly back away from the car when they realize it's not theirs. And then they look around to see if anyone saw them winning the award for dumbass of the year. At this point I'm about rolling on the pavement in hysterics. AHHHHHH!!!!!
I have a family member who did this with me once and we laughed about it for hours.

What else?
Today I went to put gas in my car. Gas prices are so not funny. But this is. This lady pulls her car up to a pump with a bright red bag over the gas handle. She gets out of her car. Hello, bag on handle. Puts her credit card into the pump. Bag still there. Scratches her head why it won' take her card. Pushes the attendant call button and asks what the problem is. When the guys says, "The pump is broken!" She looks all annoyed. Then looks around to see if anyone saw her win runner up for dumbass of the year. I saw it and yes I laughed.

Another thing.
When someone trips. Not the kind of trip and fall that results in injury. (I've certainly been there and done that!) But the kind where they just kind of skip over their feet. It's only funny when it's someone who thinks they are so cool. Like a person in a business suit or a woman who is totally hot. It's the best when this kind of trip reminds them that they are not as cool as they think they are...they are just a regular dumbass like the rest of us. I love when they try and pretend like it didn't happen and keep on walking. But oh no...I saw it...I know it happened and I'm calling you out on it! I admire people with two left feet.

One more thing.
Farting. Have you ever been in a meeting or a family function and someone farts? But nobody says anything about it? But you know everybody heard it. And you are thinking...is the fartee going to own up to it? Say excuse me? How can they just carry on business as usual when they just floated an air biscuit with noise? It's like a pink elephant in the room.
This is why I love kids. There is no way a 4 year old would fart and not own up to it. In fact, they insist upon stopping everything to claim it. So adults, be proud, own your farts so I can laugh my ass off when you do it and not have to stiffle my smirks.

What kind of crazy person flys with a toddler?

A crazy person that looks like me! And my husband.

So, superman is 18 months old and into and on top of everything. He is just curious about the world, people, cabinets and the refrigerator. We decided to take him to NJ for a family vacation. Now so called friends of mine said he would sleep during the flight. So called friends of mine who shall remain nameless said to give him his bottle during take off and landing to avoid his ears from getting blocked. But no, my child wanted no part of his milk. He did eat those little stars (God bless them) but I think someone laced them with uppers because he did not sleep AT ALL. What did he do during the long journey for two hours and 22 minutes? Poked the people's heads in front of us. He loves to go fishing for hair accessories. Turned around and made faces at the people behind us. It was cute the first six times he did it. Threw his sippy cup at the people behind us. Licked the window, arm rest and tray table. I am a total germaphobe so this horrified me! He wined, whimpered, made noise but surprisingly did not cry. He also had a big poopy diaper blowout. Thank God someone at Spirit Airlines put in a changing table in the bathroom. That was the highlight of out trip. He played with the seat belt. He tried to scale the seats and make a run for the isle. We played peek-a-boo 6 million times. Read three books over and over. And prayed to God several times.

The toys that I brought to entertain him were a complete joke. Yes, I went and bought him new toys to play with. At one point he looked at his play keys and then up at me as if to say "Are you kidding me? How boring." The DVD player with three different movies held his attention for about 3.5 seconds. I tried to pass the time by feeding him crackers, water, juice, fruit...anything that was edible and would keep him still and quiet. He played with the window shade...up...down...up...down. Repeat over and over for 8.9 seconds.

The flight was incredibly long, painfully long. We were so worried about superman bothering other passengers that when we got off the plane my husband said he thought he might throw up from him nerves being shot. If you see an adult with a toddler flying on a plane, have mercy. Have mercy on their poor souls. Because those are crazy people who will only make this mistake once.