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My elder daughter is in a ballet performance this weekend. When these come up every few months, it's my wife's job to do things like hair and makeup. It's my job to do...everything else.
Today, part of that everything else involved a desperate need for hairnets. These hairnets MUST be brown, or evidently, the universe will collapse, the sun will go supernova, and all life will cease on our planet.
I went to Sally Beauty Supply. Now, I'll admit, it's amusing to see a guy in Sally, and I am unmistakably a middle-aged guy. I have a beard and everything. I'm not the typical Sally customer, but when the quest is hairnets, this is the only destination at which I'm guaranteed to find them, and find them for a decent price.
I pull up, and I notice the GIANT poster of Paris Hilton on the window. This poster is advertising for PARIS HILTON HAIR EXTENSIONS ATTACHED TO HEADBANDS!!!one!!eleventy! Despite this frightening apparition on the window, I am not deterred. Nay, the call of hairnets is too strong. I must get them, for the universe must not collapse.
I go in. I've done this before, and I know where the hairnets are. However, I cannot get to them because two enormous old women are in my way. Why are they in my way? Because they cannot tear themselves away from staring at PARIS HILTON'S HAIR EXTENSIONS ATTACHED TO HEADBANDS!!!one!!eleventy!
I say "Excuse me" politely. One behemoth inches forward. I scrape past her, possibly corroding my jeans with whatever creosote may be oozing through her stretch pants. I grab two packages of hairnets and turn to face the counter.
The behemoth has shifted back. I clear my throat. She takes no notice, evidently because the lure of HAIR! EXTENSIONS! WITH! HEADBANDS! is too siren to notice a fat angry bastard like me trying to maintain his dignity in a beauty supply store. I say "Excuse me" again. Nothing.
"Oh my GAWD!" screeches behemoth #2. "I really like this one, but the HEADBAND is so TACKY! Can they be SWITCHED AROUND?"
"RILLY!" bellows behemoth #1. "That one is SOOOOOOOOOOO TERRIBLE!"
I grit my teeth and wedge myself between the ass of behemoth #2 and the shelf. I am stabbed in the chest by a pointy thing holding up hair products. Once again, my jeans have come into contact with the backside of an aging hellbeast. I buy the hairnets and escape with my life. The universe does not implode.
Seriously, I can't understand why anyone would want to look like Paris Hilton in the first place. But even if someone did, neither of those bulging ancient monstroids have a hope in Hades. It would be like putting an ugly bow on a much uglier farm animal.
Good Christ, I hate humanity.
Today, part of that everything else involved a desperate need for hairnets. These hairnets MUST be brown, or evidently, the universe will collapse, the sun will go supernova, and all life will cease on our planet.
I went to Sally Beauty Supply. Now, I'll admit, it's amusing to see a guy in Sally, and I am unmistakably a middle-aged guy. I have a beard and everything. I'm not the typical Sally customer, but when the quest is hairnets, this is the only destination at which I'm guaranteed to find them, and find them for a decent price.
I pull up, and I notice the GIANT poster of Paris Hilton on the window. This poster is advertising for PARIS HILTON HAIR EXTENSIONS ATTACHED TO HEADBANDS!!!one!!eleventy! Despite this frightening apparition on the window, I am not deterred. Nay, the call of hairnets is too strong. I must get them, for the universe must not collapse.
I go in. I've done this before, and I know where the hairnets are. However, I cannot get to them because two enormous old women are in my way. Why are they in my way? Because they cannot tear themselves away from staring at PARIS HILTON'S HAIR EXTENSIONS ATTACHED TO HEADBANDS!!!one!!eleventy!
I say "Excuse me" politely. One behemoth inches forward. I scrape past her, possibly corroding my jeans with whatever creosote may be oozing through her stretch pants. I grab two packages of hairnets and turn to face the counter.
The behemoth has shifted back. I clear my throat. She takes no notice, evidently because the lure of HAIR! EXTENSIONS! WITH! HEADBANDS! is too siren to notice a fat angry bastard like me trying to maintain his dignity in a beauty supply store. I say "Excuse me" again. Nothing.
"Oh my GAWD!" screeches behemoth #2. "I really like this one, but the HEADBAND is so TACKY! Can they be SWITCHED AROUND?"
"RILLY!" bellows behemoth #1. "That one is SOOOOOOOOOOO TERRIBLE!"
I grit my teeth and wedge myself between the ass of behemoth #2 and the shelf. I am stabbed in the chest by a pointy thing holding up hair products. Once again, my jeans have come into contact with the backside of an aging hellbeast. I buy the hairnets and escape with my life. The universe does not implode.
Seriously, I can't understand why anyone would want to look like Paris Hilton in the first place. But even if someone did, neither of those bulging ancient monstroids have a hope in Hades. It would be like putting an ugly bow on a much uglier farm animal.
Good Christ, I hate humanity.
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