Sex And The Hairdresser In The City

I had the most interesting pseudo-sexual experience while getting my hair cut and highlighted last week, and I just had to share it with all of you because, although I may not know all of you personally, I know you all need to know my deepest, darkest secrets. You're welcome.

But, before I get into that, let me just tell you that my hairdresser, although she's cute and funny and listens to me blather on and on about nothing, really does not know how to cut bangs. I am in complete misery at the moment because, once again, she did not give me the nice sidebangs that I now adore (and once abhorred) and that make me look like Penelope Cruz (without the strong accent). At the moment, my bangs are cut straight across, and I look like Alfred E. Neuman. Not good, seeing as I'M GOING TO FLORIDA IN A WEEK and the last thing I need is to look like this:

Not that anyone is going to notice, but still. It would be nice if someone would notice me for a change, actually, and when they did, that I didn't look like a complete tool. My only hope is that my hair grows enough in the next week so that I can trim my bangs a wee bit to give them that sidebang look. Please pray for me.

So, while I was sitting there, getting my bangs trimmed badly, my hairdresser starts talking to the guy next to her about lube. Lube? Yes, lube. The guy was going on and on about machinery or something exciting like that, and my hairdresser pipes in with the suggestion of using lube to loosen things up. "Like KY or something," she says, all chipperlike, simultaneously going snipsnipsnip to my precious hairs.

KY? I say to myself, my eyes widening in disbelief. Did she just say what I thought she just said? As in 'sex jelly'? Not that I know ANYTHING at all about that stuff.

Yes, she did. To a strange man who was sitting right beside me.

Thank god he wasn't handsome or even the least bit adorable, because THAT would be uber-embarrassing, and I would have probably ended up with an even more ridiculous-looking haircut because I would have ducked under my robe and never come up for air.

We get through that embarrassing moment and Mrs. Foot-In-The-Mouth is just fluffing up my bangs when she pulls out this bottle of spray and I ask her what that is as she starts spraying my head, and she tells me it's this awesome, amazing stuff that makes your hair look like it just came out of the movies. And she sprays it again, and I am in heaven because the smell is out of this world, so I decide right then and there that, regardless of whether or not this stuff actually does anything at all, I have to buy it because of that smell. And that, my friends, is ridiculous in itself, and don't think I don't know it. I do, but I don't care.

And, so I ask her what it's called, and she tells me. "Blonde Me," she says, showing me the bottle.

And then she giggles.

"What is so funny?" I ask her, totally oblivious to what is right in front of me and still in a little bit of heaven over the amazing smell of this stuff.

She points to the bottle, and by this point, she cannot speak, she's laughing so hard.

And the bottle says: BLOND ME, except the "ND" is on a line all on its own.

And I'm like, "What?"

And she's like, "OH.MY.GOD. Do you see that?!"

And I'm all, "No. If I saw it, I'd be peeing my pants like you are right now."

And she points more specifically to the words and looks at me, waiting.

And then the actual placement of the words hit my retinas, and I cannot believe my luck. The stars in the Galaxy of Sex surely must have been aligned that day, because seriously, what are the chances that the topics of lube AND blowing would BOTH come up at the hairdresser's, of all places, and within the span of one hour? And then I scream, cover my eyes, and run lest the words burn fiery holes into my virginal eyes.

So, of course I bought the bottle of spray, because I'd spend more than that for a bottle that says "Blo Me" on it. This was cheap, in my opinion.

I haven't yet shown the bottle to Mr. Handsome, lest he get entirely the wrong idea (which he will). But, he reads this blog, so now I just wait. But, while I wait, I spray and sniff, and smile, because that, my friends, is how I roll.


rondi adamson said…
I totally understand about the bangs. I have the same problem. One looks like a dork, or like a four-year-old whose mother just cut their bangs, if they are cut too bluntly. Few stylists get that. The first time I met my boyfriend's family I had my bangs cut like that. I was convinced that was all they talked about all the way home.
Gaston Studio said…
Well, you certainly have a much more entertaining time at your hairdresser's than I do at mine!
Em said…
Lube and crude - love it!!

I used to have a hairdresser that made Elton John seem like a macho man - the stories that guy told.

Curled hair, no perm needed.

BLO (nd) Me? Somewhere, a marketing dude is feeling quite clever.
Fragrant Liar said…
Just had my hair done last weekend, and my stylist completely chopped my bangs so I look like a five year old.

BTW, remember Something About Mary? And that "stuff" she put in her hair? I mean, just thinking maybe what you got "blown" into yours . . . Well, it's got protein.
When I finished laughing .......had to compose myself before answering. Well my hairdresser is dead boring, if I lived nearer to you would certainly pay your hairdresser a visit.
Take care and have fun.


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