So I’ve got a new favorite song in my workout playlist: Katy Perry’s California Gurls [sic]. What a fun, catchy tune! I don’t even detest running as much when it’s playing. I just hear the beat and imagine myself running in the surf in Daisy Dukes and a bikini looking like I did back in college. Yes, a few of the lyrics in this one are a tad on the racy side and Katy’s certainly not giving the Florida delegation its due, but all’s good. Whenever I like the tune of a song, but have problems with a lyric or two, I simply change them in my head. For example: California Girls can easily be sung as Central Flor’da Girls, no??
Anyway, speaking of changing lyrics, I thought you might enjoy a little ballad I “wrote” :) (ha!) to honor my favorite salon. It should be sung to the tune of the Beach Boys’ California Girls.
How’s your hair looking? If it’s not fine, fresh, fierce and unforgettable, it’s time to pick up the phone and call Hot Heads 407- 671-0480.
I Wish they All Could Be Hot Heads Salons!
East Coast salons are cool. I like the way they style gals’ hair.
And the Southern ones, with the way they cut… Wow! They’ve really got that flair!
In the Midwest, those salons…they really do it right.
And the Northern Ones? They’re so good with foil. They make their clients’ hair a pleasant sight.
But I wish they all could be Hot Heads Salons!
(Wish they all could be Hot Heads Salons!)
Yeah, I wish they all could be Hot Heads Salons!
The West Coast pros put in highlights that’ll turn the head of any man.
Their peers in other places create great looks too, then reach for a hairspray can
I been all round this great big world. Yeah, I seen straight locks and curls
But I couldn’t wait to get back to my state
Back to the best salon in the world.
Yeah, I wish they all could be Hot Heads Salons!
Monday, June 28, 2010
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Now Playing in our Neighborhood: Jersey Girl
As I have mentioned before on this blog, I am currently more economically challenged than I care to be and because of this, I have had to do without a few things a gal should not have to do without. Case in point: cable. Because I don’t currently have cable, I have not had the pleasure of spending any time with the cast of Jersey Shore. (Well, more accurately, I haven’t spent any time with them for two reasons: 1) because of my annoying lack of funds and the related absence of cable, and 2) because I would probably have to put a bullet in my head, which would likely mess up my hair. I do know the group by reputation, however, given that I have an honorary PhD in pop culture. :) I just haven’t watched the show.
It occurs to me that I may soon find myself in the company of Snooki and the gang as they have been spending quite a bit of time in our fair state. (Several episodes of season two of their show will be set in South Florida - in a retirement community, on South Beach....) Obviously the hospitable thing for me to do, as an almost native - I had a little plastic Sunshine State license plate on the back of my tricycle - would be to reach out to these newcomers and clue them in as to how things are done down here.
Dear Snooki,
It occurs to me that I may soon find myself in the company of Snooki and the gang as they have been spending quite a bit of time in our fair state. (Several episodes of season two of their show will be set in South Florida - in a retirement community, on South Beach....) Obviously the hospitable thing for me to do, as an almost native - I had a little plastic Sunshine State license plate on the back of my tricycle - would be to reach out to these newcomers and clue them in as to how things are done down here.
Though I have not watched Jersey Shore, I do have some knowledge about the life they are used to living: a) My family on my Dad’s side moved directly from Ireland to New Jersey and spent several decades there before moving to Florida, and b) I’ve read most of the Stephanie Plum books.
Anyway, without further ado, I’d like to share my open letter to the most well known of the Garden State delegation:
Dear Snooki,
First of all, welcome! Grab some Orange Juice, pour some vodka in it if you must, and make yourself at home. If you’ve got a few minutes, I thought I’d provide a little info and couple of suggestions which might prove helpful to you during your stay here:
1) That sandy tract of land east of your temporary place of residence is called the beach. Shore is the last name of one of Benny Goodman’s contemporaries and a homonym for an affirmative answer.
2) Tanning beds went out with rubix cubes down here. We choose to look sun kissed, not sun groped and to do so, we go to the beach wearing our SPF 30 or we apply a little Jergens Natural Glow Foaming Daily Moisturizer. You’re looking a little too “Ross in that Friends spray tan episode” for our tastes. You might want to tone it down a bit.
3) Please don’t take this the wrong way, but Snooki sounds like a euphemism for an arthropod mating ritual. As nicknames go it’s just not cute and it will fit in here as well as Jim Bob or Hoss or John Boy would, which is to say, it won’t. You have a pleasant enough sounding first name. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go with Nicki or Nicole during your stay?
4) Let me introduce you to another six letter word starting with “s” – subtle. At the risk of hurting your feelings, it means, well, kind of the opposite of you. My mother used to say, “leave something to the imagination”. (That usually came towards the beginning of her “Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?” speech.) I think she had a point. You might want to consider dialing it back a bit in your fashion choices. Short skirts have their place, especially in South Beach, but a short skirt + cleavage + too much make up + a crazy fake tan is just too darn much.
5) Most importantly, you must do something about that hair! You are an attractive enough girl. Not sure if you’re going for Elvira or Sarah Palin or something in between, but whatever you’re doing is missing the mark. Might I suggest a salon a few hours upstate?
On a positive note, I’ve seen Tastykakes at Publix, so no worries. You’re not completely in alien territory. Give my regards to The Situation and enjoy your stay.
Yours Sincerely,
The HHG
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Grounds for Dismissal (of Cellulite :)
Yesterday I wrote a somewhat controversial, but sorry, girls, all true, post about what it’s like to be a single woman in her 40s. As you might imagine, not everyone liked it. So as I always try to do when I get flak for something outrageous that I write :), I’m going to follow it up with a few clarifications:
1) I am a relatively confident gal, so please… no worries about my self esteem. I also don't really think I'm fishing with a tree branch, twine and a bent paperclip. (If that went over your head, please refer back to yesterday's post.) I am fishing in a pond, but I am, at least, using a rod and reel. It's a vintage model dating back to the Ron Popiel Pocket Fisherman days, but it works and it's still kind of, sort of cute. :) All I was alluding to is that a) men are visual, which they are - sorry if you hate that, but it’s true - and b) it never hurts to try and stack the deck in your favor.
2) The only women who thought I was exaggerating about “the pond” are my married friends. My single friends know the pond all too well and were quick to identify other species of fish that should be considered harmful to our health and well being.
3) I know that men of character care about more than just looks.
4) I know that what is supposed to happen will happen and if there’s a great guy out there for me, I will meet him with or without the assistance of a coffee ground paste. :)
5) I write about frivolous things on this site. This is a blog about hair and beauty and fashion. It’s actually supposed to be a somewhat amusing blog about hair and beauty and fashion. Never take anything I say on here too seriously. (Well, takewhat I have to say about where to get your hair cut and colored seriously, but that's about it.) For example, I don’t really think there are only three decent single men in my zip code. There could actually be as many as five.
OK, now that you’re no longer worried about me or my shallow, pessimistic outlook on life… let’s get back to the important matter at hand…vanquishing cellulite. (Maya from Completely Coastal, a blog I read on a regular basis, mentioned that Dr. Oz doesn’t think cellulite can be tamed. I’ve come to really appreciate Maya and I adore her blog. I’m also a huge Dr. Oz fan. Still, I say what can it hurt to give this a try? (Well, it could create an enormous mess in your bathroom and possibly leave you without olive oil for tonight’s dinner, but with those exceptions, what can it hurt to give this a try?)
I doubt seriously that a coffee ground/olive oil paste and Saran Wrap was ever given careful consideration by Dr. Oz or any of his colleagues and I feel certain that this methodology was never discussed in any of their scholarly journals. Here are the only facts I need to know: Demi Moore can afford pricey anti-cellulite treatments, but instead prefers this home remedy and Demi Moore bagged the fifteen years her junior and rather easy on the eyes, Ashton Kutcher. Anyway, onto my own research….
I did, in fact, give this a try and to my optimistic eye, my thighs and caboose look a little less frightening today. Here are what I consider to be the pros and cons of making and using the coffee ground paste:
Pros
Though there is not any research (that I know of) to support the claim that this works, a lot of people swear it does. Google it. This is a new concept to me, but women have been fans of this paste for years.
When you wash off the coffee and olive oil, the aforementioned areas of your bod will feel so soft and smooth.
Even in my economically challenged state, I can afford this “treatment”.
If you put Crest White Strips on your teeth and cucumber slices on your eyes at the same time you’re slathering yourself in coffee grounds and olive oil (as I did :), you will a) start laughing and improve your spirits and b) scare off any unwanted home intruders who should happen to wander in.
Cons
I had a hard time shaking the Marabel Morgan (Total Woman) “wrap your nude body in Saran Wrap and greet your man” image out of my brain.
You will feel a tad ridiculous while engaging in this activity. You will find yourself explaining to your pet why you are standing naked in your bathroom covered in a thick brown paste.
This is a messy venture. If you are the kind of gal whose blood pressure rises at the very thought of a gritty, greasy substance in the vicinity of your gleaming white bathroom tile, this may not be for you.
Chances are good, that when you’re done with this “treatment”, you’ll find yourself craving a donut.
Anyway, that’s it. Don’t ever say I don’t go the extra mile for you.
The HHG
PS Please let me know if you try this and/or if you know of any great single guys.
1) I am a relatively confident gal, so please… no worries about my self esteem. I also don't really think I'm fishing with a tree branch, twine and a bent paperclip. (If that went over your head, please refer back to yesterday's post.) I am fishing in a pond, but I am, at least, using a rod and reel. It's a vintage model dating back to the Ron Popiel Pocket Fisherman days, but it works and it's still kind of, sort of cute. :) All I was alluding to is that a) men are visual, which they are - sorry if you hate that, but it’s true - and b) it never hurts to try and stack the deck in your favor.
2) The only women who thought I was exaggerating about “the pond” are my married friends. My single friends know the pond all too well and were quick to identify other species of fish that should be considered harmful to our health and well being.
3) I know that men of character care about more than just looks.
4) I know that what is supposed to happen will happen and if there’s a great guy out there for me, I will meet him with or without the assistance of a coffee ground paste. :)
5) I write about frivolous things on this site. This is a blog about hair and beauty and fashion. It’s actually supposed to be a somewhat amusing blog about hair and beauty and fashion. Never take anything I say on here too seriously. (Well, takewhat I have to say about where to get your hair cut and colored seriously, but that's about it.) For example, I don’t really think there are only three decent single men in my zip code. There could actually be as many as five.
OK, now that you’re no longer worried about me or my shallow, pessimistic outlook on life… let’s get back to the important matter at hand…vanquishing cellulite. (Maya from Completely Coastal, a blog I read on a regular basis, mentioned that Dr. Oz doesn’t think cellulite can be tamed. I’ve come to really appreciate Maya and I adore her blog. I’m also a huge Dr. Oz fan. Still, I say what can it hurt to give this a try? (Well, it could create an enormous mess in your bathroom and possibly leave you without olive oil for tonight’s dinner, but with those exceptions, what can it hurt to give this a try?)
I doubt seriously that a coffee ground/olive oil paste and Saran Wrap was ever given careful consideration by Dr. Oz or any of his colleagues and I feel certain that this methodology was never discussed in any of their scholarly journals. Here are the only facts I need to know: Demi Moore can afford pricey anti-cellulite treatments, but instead prefers this home remedy and Demi Moore bagged the fifteen years her junior and rather easy on the eyes, Ashton Kutcher. Anyway, onto my own research….
I did, in fact, give this a try and to my optimistic eye, my thighs and caboose look a little less frightening today. Here are what I consider to be the pros and cons of making and using the coffee ground paste:
Pros
Though there is not any research (that I know of) to support the claim that this works, a lot of people swear it does. Google it. This is a new concept to me, but women have been fans of this paste for years.
When you wash off the coffee and olive oil, the aforementioned areas of your bod will feel so soft and smooth.
Even in my economically challenged state, I can afford this “treatment”.
If you put Crest White Strips on your teeth and cucumber slices on your eyes at the same time you’re slathering yourself in coffee grounds and olive oil (as I did :), you will a) start laughing and improve your spirits and b) scare off any unwanted home intruders who should happen to wander in.
Cons
I had a hard time shaking the Marabel Morgan (Total Woman) “wrap your nude body in Saran Wrap and greet your man” image out of my brain.
You will feel a tad ridiculous while engaging in this activity. You will find yourself explaining to your pet why you are standing naked in your bathroom covered in a thick brown paste.
This is a messy venture. If you are the kind of gal whose blood pressure rises at the very thought of a gritty, greasy substance in the vicinity of your gleaming white bathroom tile, this may not be for you.
Chances are good, that when you’re done with this “treatment”, you’ll find yourself craving a donut.
Anyway, that’s it. Don’t ever say I don’t go the extra mile for you.
The HHG
PS Please let me know if you try this and/or if you know of any great single guys.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Grounds For (The Soon To Be) Divorce(d) :)
As I believe I’ve mentioned here a time or two, I am about to join the ranks of the no longer legally wed and I’m doing so at a stage in life where some of my contemporaries are outfitting their spare bedrooms with cribs for their grandbabies. (Obviously I have friends who gave birth in their early teens.) Being single at an age that starts with a “4” is not exactly how I envisioned my life unfolding.
Dating is complicated enough when you’re in your teens and twenties. Thinking about getting back out there when you’re less than a decade away from a regular 10% discount at TCBY is daunting to say the least.
The other day I was discussing this very matter with another gal who had ventured down the aisle with a member of the "Cute, but Troubled" Club and who, as a result, now also checks "Ms" in the prefix box when filling out surveys. She and I marveled at how delusional most of our married and more or less contented friends are. “There are other fish in the sea”, these women tell us. “Just get back out there.” Some even tell us that they’re jealous of us. They tell us that they’re bored and that they long for that “butterflies in the stomach” feeling of a new love again too, but that it’s just not in the cards for them since they’re married to good guys. They tell us that they sometimes wish that they, too, could get a “do over” and could date again guilt free.
It is so obvious that as they offer this advice, they are mentally traveling back through time to that well stocked ocean where we all cast our lines in our youth. They are thinking back to a math class with a quick witted aspiring attorney and to track practice with tanned, shirtless sprinters. They are remembering sizzling hot walk in refrigerator encounters with fellow employees at their summer jobs and all of the sweet, smart, funny guys in their church or synagogue youth groups. They are remembering neighborhood boys with lawn mowers out to make a buck and cute guys in cutoff jeans and feathered hair at the neighborhood pool. They are reminiscing about the days when we were all toned and taut and tan and when every guy we knew was single. They are remembering when we all had just the right bait and when the fish were plentiful. Makes me kind of want to slap them and these are women I adore. :)
We mid-life fisherwomen aren’t out on the open seas in sleek, brand new sport cruisers. We’re sitting in the weeds on the banks of a sparsely populated, polluted retention pond with a tree branch, twine and an unbent paperclip. Making matters worse, we’re doing this while remembering what it was like to fish an ocean teaming with life in a just off the assembly line, lightening - fast water craft. We’re also remembering that when we were all given that handbook about which fish to keep and which to throw back, we foolishly refused to read ours.
Many of the fish in our 2010 pond are flying fish (who jump from woman to woman to woman). Others are experts at squirming off the hook or they were thrown back by other women for very good reasons. Some are damaged goods. Some only have eyes for the shiny new lures. Those who have never been caught at all were not caught for a reason. They are die hard partiers or commitment phobes. They live with their mothers or they prefer the company of other men. Sigh!
Yes, there are still a few decent, hardworking, smart, faithful, funny 40 year old guys who are able to fall in love and to commit in this world. They’re not an extinct species. I even know where they are. They are married to many of the women who are envying us.
Now don’t get me wrong, I would never go after one of these guys, because a) I’m not the kind of girl to go after (or accept advances from) a taken man, and b) if one of these guys would cheat on his wife, then he is no longer worthy of the string of adjectives above anyway. I’m just saying that it makes me a teeny, tiny bit crazy to hear my married friends complain about home renovation projects that take longer than they should or about the fact that their husbands have lost their washboard abs. When these gals get all caught up in their grass is greener fantasies and tell me they want to live vicariously through me, I find myself wanting to lock them in a room and give them the 411 on what a real marital crisis looks and feels like and about what kind of dating market they would be re-entering if they were foolish enough to venture out into it by choice.
Having said all that, I will acknowledge that there are a handful of women out there who have given our gender a bad name. There are women who married strictly for money and who didn’t feel like sticking around when the going got rough. There are women who decided to play footsies with co-workers or with the pool boy and there are women who spend their afternoons at the neighborhood dive bar. I don’t think there are a lot of these women around and I can tell you for certain that there are none of this ilk in my circle of friends, but I understand that they do exist. I also know that there are men whose wives have passed away and men whose wives decided to play for the other team. I am not so cynical as to think there aren’t about three 40 – 50 year old single guys in my zip code who might be worth having. The problem is that at least one (probably two) of these guys will decide he’d rather be with a 25 – 35 year old now that he’s single again and the elusive one will find himself sitting in the proverbial catbird seat marveling at his good fortune. (It’s staggering to think about how many quality single women there are out there. I bet I could name 25 without even breaking a sweat.)
So… where does this leave me and the passel of other great newly single or soon to be single 40 something gals? Well, we can either a) Give up on men altogether b) Get involved with the safe, but socially backwards guys who are living with their Moms c) Continue utilizing poor judgement in this area of our lives and date someone who isn't dating or marriage material d) Start dating sixty year olds or e) Step up our games so that if we do come in contact with any of the mythical good single guys our age who aren’t casing college gyms for 20 year olds in Juicy Couture shorts, we will be in the position to land them.*
*I know how that sounds and believe me, it pains me to say it. I’m just facing reality though. If GLSG – Good LEGALLY Single Guy has to choose between Phenomenal Woman A who has major cellulite, mousy hair and gray roots and Phenomenal Woman B who has none of the above, the sad fact is that he’ll probably go for Phenomenal Woman B. If we’re honest, we would likely do the same thing if the odds were stacked in our favor the way they are for them.
It’s Economics 101. It’s that fundamental concept about supply and demand. These guys are in a position to be choosy, so guess what? That’s what they’re gonna be. I don’t begrudge them that. I mean, if they’re decent guys who are legitimately single at this age, odds are they’ve been through some pretty rough stuff. How great for them that they came out on the other side of pain and heartache to find themselves hot commodities. Kinda sucks for us though!
This brings me to the real reason for this post. I just read about the most entertaining and economical means of combating cellulite and I felt like I had to pass it along. I understand that this is a method employed by numerous well to do and in the know (about things of this sort) Hollywood types.
Basically, you take a mess of lukewarm coffee grounds, mix in about a tablespoon of olive oil and smear this concoction all over your thighs and derriere. You then take enough saran wrap to contain all this and wrap it around your lower extremities. Then… you wait for about twenty minutes and you shower off. (Did I mention that you should probably apply the coffee ground paste when standing on newspaper or a kitchen sized garbage bag?)
Anyway, because I am genuinely committed to the well being of my few, but faithful readers and because I have opted for “e” in the multiple choice scenario laid out above, I’m going to try this and report back. I’ll let you know how it goes. :)
Dating is complicated enough when you’re in your teens and twenties. Thinking about getting back out there when you’re less than a decade away from a regular 10% discount at TCBY is daunting to say the least.
The other day I was discussing this very matter with another gal who had ventured down the aisle with a member of the "Cute, but Troubled" Club and who, as a result, now also checks "Ms" in the prefix box when filling out surveys. She and I marveled at how delusional most of our married and more or less contented friends are. “There are other fish in the sea”, these women tell us. “Just get back out there.” Some even tell us that they’re jealous of us. They tell us that they’re bored and that they long for that “butterflies in the stomach” feeling of a new love again too, but that it’s just not in the cards for them since they’re married to good guys. They tell us that they sometimes wish that they, too, could get a “do over” and could date again guilt free.
It is so obvious that as they offer this advice, they are mentally traveling back through time to that well stocked ocean where we all cast our lines in our youth. They are thinking back to a math class with a quick witted aspiring attorney and to track practice with tanned, shirtless sprinters. They are remembering sizzling hot walk in refrigerator encounters with fellow employees at their summer jobs and all of the sweet, smart, funny guys in their church or synagogue youth groups. They are remembering neighborhood boys with lawn mowers out to make a buck and cute guys in cutoff jeans and feathered hair at the neighborhood pool. They are reminiscing about the days when we were all toned and taut and tan and when every guy we knew was single. They are remembering when we all had just the right bait and when the fish were plentiful. Makes me kind of want to slap them and these are women I adore. :)
We mid-life fisherwomen aren’t out on the open seas in sleek, brand new sport cruisers. We’re sitting in the weeds on the banks of a sparsely populated, polluted retention pond with a tree branch, twine and an unbent paperclip. Making matters worse, we’re doing this while remembering what it was like to fish an ocean teaming with life in a just off the assembly line, lightening - fast water craft. We’re also remembering that when we were all given that handbook about which fish to keep and which to throw back, we foolishly refused to read ours.
Many of the fish in our 2010 pond are flying fish (who jump from woman to woman to woman). Others are experts at squirming off the hook or they were thrown back by other women for very good reasons. Some are damaged goods. Some only have eyes for the shiny new lures. Those who have never been caught at all were not caught for a reason. They are die hard partiers or commitment phobes. They live with their mothers or they prefer the company of other men. Sigh!
Yes, there are still a few decent, hardworking, smart, faithful, funny 40 year old guys who are able to fall in love and to commit in this world. They’re not an extinct species. I even know where they are. They are married to many of the women who are envying us.
Now don’t get me wrong, I would never go after one of these guys, because a) I’m not the kind of girl to go after (or accept advances from) a taken man, and b) if one of these guys would cheat on his wife, then he is no longer worthy of the string of adjectives above anyway. I’m just saying that it makes me a teeny, tiny bit crazy to hear my married friends complain about home renovation projects that take longer than they should or about the fact that their husbands have lost their washboard abs. When these gals get all caught up in their grass is greener fantasies and tell me they want to live vicariously through me, I find myself wanting to lock them in a room and give them the 411 on what a real marital crisis looks and feels like and about what kind of dating market they would be re-entering if they were foolish enough to venture out into it by choice.
Having said all that, I will acknowledge that there are a handful of women out there who have given our gender a bad name. There are women who married strictly for money and who didn’t feel like sticking around when the going got rough. There are women who decided to play footsies with co-workers or with the pool boy and there are women who spend their afternoons at the neighborhood dive bar. I don’t think there are a lot of these women around and I can tell you for certain that there are none of this ilk in my circle of friends, but I understand that they do exist. I also know that there are men whose wives have passed away and men whose wives decided to play for the other team. I am not so cynical as to think there aren’t about three 40 – 50 year old single guys in my zip code who might be worth having. The problem is that at least one (probably two) of these guys will decide he’d rather be with a 25 – 35 year old now that he’s single again and the elusive one will find himself sitting in the proverbial catbird seat marveling at his good fortune. (It’s staggering to think about how many quality single women there are out there. I bet I could name 25 without even breaking a sweat.)
So… where does this leave me and the passel of other great newly single or soon to be single 40 something gals? Well, we can either a) Give up on men altogether b) Get involved with the safe, but socially backwards guys who are living with their Moms c) Continue utilizing poor judgement in this area of our lives and date someone who isn't dating or marriage material d) Start dating sixty year olds or e) Step up our games so that if we do come in contact with any of the mythical good single guys our age who aren’t casing college gyms for 20 year olds in Juicy Couture shorts, we will be in the position to land them.*
*I know how that sounds and believe me, it pains me to say it. I’m just facing reality though. If GLSG – Good LEGALLY Single Guy has to choose between Phenomenal Woman A who has major cellulite, mousy hair and gray roots and Phenomenal Woman B who has none of the above, the sad fact is that he’ll probably go for Phenomenal Woman B. If we’re honest, we would likely do the same thing if the odds were stacked in our favor the way they are for them.
It’s Economics 101. It’s that fundamental concept about supply and demand. These guys are in a position to be choosy, so guess what? That’s what they’re gonna be. I don’t begrudge them that. I mean, if they’re decent guys who are legitimately single at this age, odds are they’ve been through some pretty rough stuff. How great for them that they came out on the other side of pain and heartache to find themselves hot commodities. Kinda sucks for us though!
This brings me to the real reason for this post. I just read about the most entertaining and economical means of combating cellulite and I felt like I had to pass it along. I understand that this is a method employed by numerous well to do and in the know (about things of this sort) Hollywood types.
Basically, you take a mess of lukewarm coffee grounds, mix in about a tablespoon of olive oil and smear this concoction all over your thighs and derriere. You then take enough saran wrap to contain all this and wrap it around your lower extremities. Then… you wait for about twenty minutes and you shower off. (Did I mention that you should probably apply the coffee ground paste when standing on newspaper or a kitchen sized garbage bag?)
Anyway, because I am genuinely committed to the well being of my few, but faithful readers and because I have opted for “e” in the multiple choice scenario laid out above, I’m going to try this and report back. I’ll let you know how it goes. :)
Sunday, June 6, 2010
A Hair Appointment That Left Her Seeing Red
I understand that in 2010, a typical driver’s ed curriculum consists of defensive driving strategies, simulator games, hands on experience in a real vehicle, road sign quizzes, drug and alcohol facts, discussions about the danger of texting and driving and rules of engagement for navigating around bikes and pedestrians. When I took driver’s ed, back in the late 1970s, the bulk of the class involved viewing ghastly footage of twisted and mangled vehicles and bodies covered by sheets.
I’m sure much of the new curriculum is the result of top notch computer programming and years of research. Having said that, guess who I’d rather get in the car with - a graduate of the 2010 class or a Baby Boomer who was scared witless by a barrage of blood and guts? I’ll put my life in the hands of that 40+ year old every day of the week. When it comes to behavior modification, fear does have its place.
I tell you this, because today I’m sharing a cautionary hair tale. I feel certain that after you read it, you will sprint to your phone and dial up Hot Heads.
One of the blogs I read on a semi-regular basis is called Lisa and Laura Write. Basically it contains the random musings of two sisters who are writers in the young adult genre. (Think Stephanie Meyer minus the gazillion dollar advance.) I knew I should follow them as soon as I read their bio. Here’s how they describe themselves: The Hilton Sisters - spray tans + brains - 4 inches + 20 (ok, fine...30) pounds ÷ Cleveland, OH. Love it!
In their Friday, June 4th post, http://lisa-laura.blogspot.com/2010/06/hair-mergency.html, Laura reminisces about a former do that sounded quite like the trademark look of skateboarder, Shaun White aka The Flying Tomato. She used the words “red” and “mullet” in the same sentence and I think we all know that the only time that should happen is when one is discussing fish.
Her post goes on to detail her current “hair-mergency” which involved a stint as a maid of honor, a stylist with a compromised immune system and an end result which left me craving the following summer cocktail. (Check out the post and you'll understand. It's rather amusing! :)
In the meantime, I’m going to tell you again, girls. You can’t leave these things to chance. If you want to look fabulous, and I know you do, stay in Florida and book your appointments with the hair professionals at Hot Heads 407-671-0480. If you don’t, there is always that possibility that your hair will end up looking like the top 2/3 of a traffic light. Is that a chance you’re willing to take? I think not!
I’m sure much of the new curriculum is the result of top notch computer programming and years of research. Having said that, guess who I’d rather get in the car with - a graduate of the 2010 class or a Baby Boomer who was scared witless by a barrage of blood and guts? I’ll put my life in the hands of that 40+ year old every day of the week. When it comes to behavior modification, fear does have its place.
I tell you this, because today I’m sharing a cautionary hair tale. I feel certain that after you read it, you will sprint to your phone and dial up Hot Heads.
One of the blogs I read on a semi-regular basis is called Lisa and Laura Write. Basically it contains the random musings of two sisters who are writers in the young adult genre. (Think Stephanie Meyer minus the gazillion dollar advance.) I knew I should follow them as soon as I read their bio. Here’s how they describe themselves: The Hilton Sisters - spray tans + brains - 4 inches + 20 (ok, fine...30) pounds ÷ Cleveland, OH. Love it!
In their Friday, June 4th post, http://lisa-laura.blogspot.com/2010/06/hair-mergency.html, Laura reminisces about a former do that sounded quite like the trademark look of skateboarder, Shaun White aka The Flying Tomato. She used the words “red” and “mullet” in the same sentence and I think we all know that the only time that should happen is when one is discussing fish.
Her post goes on to detail her current “hair-mergency” which involved a stint as a maid of honor, a stylist with a compromised immune system and an end result which left me craving the following summer cocktail. (Check out the post and you'll understand. It's rather amusing! :)
In the meantime, I’m going to tell you again, girls. You can’t leave these things to chance. If you want to look fabulous, and I know you do, stay in Florida and book your appointments with the hair professionals at Hot Heads 407-671-0480. If you don’t, there is always that possibility that your hair will end up looking like the top 2/3 of a traffic light. Is that a chance you’re willing to take? I think not!
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