Beached Blog

[insert bullet point] we just had a work PIZZA PARTY!!! i know, i know, a mere week after employee appreciation SMOOTHIE DAY! but here’s the thing. it was like a socialist pizza party. i don’t want to complain (i’m still doing it though, how hyposhittical of me) but when i show up, it’s like the bread line, son! a line out the door, and anxious heads peering into the board room to see if the UN sent enough rations to feed the entire village. i did hear this and grimace: “it wasn’t my fault, i touched two pieces by accident so i had to take both of them! have mercy!” as my coworker and i got closer to the table, we were told “1 piece per person max!” and i crinkled up my nose. WHAT. one piece per person! isn’t there supposed to be an obesity epidemic or something?! it was ludicrous. anyway, in addition to pizza, there was also some soda and cookie cakes. you can bet i made up for my pizza deficit in cookie cake. COOKIE CAKE. that’s my new platform as an employee. i’ll only negotiate in terms of cookie cakes. i’m feeling good about my decision so far. i’ll let you know how it goes

cookie or cake? it’s not what matters.
photo courtesy of Flickr and moknits

[insert bullet point] also, since we’re on the subject of my gluttony, i’m now addicted to strawberry syrup/flavoring. i can’t stop putting it on everything ever since the tooth surge. i put it in coffay and ice cream. everywhere. on my face and hands. on my keyboard. it’s kind of gross, but that makes it better for me to love. if you love gross things, you’re less likely to attract the kind of people i like to label “judge judies.” if i had a label gun, i would constantly be typing up stereotypes and sticking them onto people. it would be a social experiment. that’s how i’ve noticed you can excuse inappropriate behavior.

[this took me all week to write, not because it’s good, because i’ve been having blog-stipation…so read it if you want…it was backed up in my creative long intestine, and needed to *SPLAT* out. there’s no pride in that statement, only relief.]

[insert bullet point] on sunday i went to the hair salon. i use haircuts to punctuate my life with excitement, even if i’m just getting “a little off the top and the sides.” (my regular) if i were keeping a diary, the days with haircuts would read HAIRCUT in big pink bubble letters at the top with lots of “omg”s and smiley faces everywhere. that’s what i’m trying to get at if you’d just let me breathe for a second.


back on track.

so anyway, i made an appt and i went to the shi-shi salon referred to me by my mater. i could have had a baby (not just one made out of hair, but like a real one) since the last time i was there. i didn’t even ask for my old stylist. too much time had passed. some shame there.

but THEN after tiny asian lady #1 gave me some serious hair washing therapy and realigned my follicles, i did get to meet the COOLEST. STYLIST. EVER. tall. lanky. half-asian. and one arm completely in tats. hawwwwt. one of those people who within 5 seconds of meeting them you already start fantasizing about hanging out with this person in a different more caz context, like a spontaneous picnic or at a wishing well or doing some Mad Libs, you know, standard BFF stuff.

what a cool guy. his name was Dave. SEE WHAT I MEAN?! how cool is that!!! anyway, i didn’t know what to say the whole time. at first he quipped, “oh so you seem to come here every 4 months.” yes. it’s true, i realized. i’m not a huge customer of grooming. then he said “oh well you must’ve gotten a really great haircut last time because you haven’t been here for 9 MONTHS!” a bit of a jab. but since he was as cool as crap, i giggled and nodded, and demurely looked away. anyway, i didn’t know what to say the whole time as dave was as cool as all get-out so i just hid behind my 4000 walls of black grease and split ends until the dreaded conversation starter ball was dropped: “didja go out last night?”

while we were “conversing,” this was happening
photo courtesy of Flickr and Dag4

i weighed my options, there being two, and decided ‘what the hey’ so i said “sort of. actually, i’m a comedian.” dave was so excited, he paused mid-hairchop, and spun my chair around to face him. “that is so cool! that is awesome. really? awesome. i mean really? wow.” i just regained the conversational upper hand. or so i thought. ENTER ADRIANA.

adriana was dave’s other appt. after he finished up my locks and commissioned tiny asian woman #2 to blow dry my hair, he went to take care of Adriana, who stepped straight out of Cosmo, apparently. how dare she. there are people who have babies instead of haircuts here, Adriana. how dare you (jk omg your april shoot was fabbbbbb).

Adriana opened her mouth, introduced herself to dave, told him exactly what she wanted with her hair and then launched into a full-on conversation like they were soul sisters. i was so jealous and seething, some of my hair started spontaneously regrowing. i didn’t calm down until dave came back to ask me more about comedy while adriana was getting her hair washed and her confidence checked. thank you, somewhat unique pasttime of mine! Adriana might have had a personality, but i have useless information i can drop about myself, and i expect to get a free ride through social situations based on that. the end. i hope you feel like you wasted some time.

this is the best picture of tripping the light fantastic that i’ve seen lately.

5 thoughts on “Beached Blog

  1. Lisa Fine Goldstein/Kelly Kelly says:

    i think you should tip Dave in cookie cakes, then you will blow that cosmo chick out of the water.It reminds of this random time I went to the ladies room…In walks this 6 ft. tall blonde, model-looking woman. She sashayed up to the sink right next to me. And I’m thinking, “Yeah, life’s fair.” And I had been having trouble getting the automatic faucet thingee to acknowledge my hands’ existence.. and she gestures her manicured fingers sort of nearish to the faucet and voila… Perrier comes pouring out. Gonna go eat me some cookie cakes just at the memory of that.I’ll have to check out your haircut next time I see you.Lisa

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