The Neighbors

This was the last week of third quarter. As usual, we did virtually nothing for thirty hours. Last week was outrageously busy with clients as everyone wants to get their hair done for the holidays. On Thursday, I think it was, I spent from ten til three doing this one woman’s hair. She came in for a relaxer, semi permanent color and a trim. It s a careful business doing color directly after a relaxer, danger of a chemical haircut lurks behind every corner. Not to mention that she had been using henna on her hair, and the metallic salts in most store bought hennas will melt your hair in a heartbeat if you use the wrong type of developer. Her relaxer came out very well, if you like that kind of thing, nice and straight. She had coarse hair that was about 60% grey, she had been doing her own color for a long time and it certainly looked that way, very nice woman, very bad looking hair. She had red, grey, black, bleach blonde; you name it. And very very dry hair. So I had the challenge of trying to cover her grey and trying to blend in all these other colors without using permanent color. Veysmeir. I used a 4 ½ NG (you have to use NG for grey coverage with the Joico color line,) let the roots process for about twice the time as the overprocessed rest of the hairshaft. I was a little worried because I haven’t done any grey coverage on a real person and she wanted it red, but I wanted it a little darker to try to blend in the weird black patches and cover the henna. It looked really nice, not a miracle mind you, you could still see that she had different shades, but it was a lot better and much more blended. Then I flat ironed it and trimmed it up a couple inches to take care of her pretty severe breakage. I used a technique that Ms V taught me when I was cutting Baby T’s hair, a good one for black women who have a lot of split ends and breakage but don’t want to lose much length. She looked great when she left, and she was really excited about it. She was going to go see Black Nativity the next night, I wonder how she liked it.
I am watching The Pen episode of Seinfeld right now with the running commentary from Jerry Seinfeld and Larry David, my mom got me seasons 1-3 for Chanukkah. I’ve always said that as much as I love Seinfeld, its sometimes so uncomfortably close to home that I can barely watch it I feel so anxious. This episode is a perfect example. Unbeleivable. Its got to be one of the best episodes ever, but when arguments over that kind of minutia happen in your own family with the increasingly louder back and forth banter that Seinfeld called ping pong dialogue in his commentary, its considerably less funny, and rather frighteningly neurotic. An example: My mother won’t let us speak above a whisper in the house after ten for fear of keeping the neighbors awake, actually I think she is more worried about them overhearing what we’re talking about. She was always nervous about it (even though the husband owns a popular local music store and they throw raucous all night parties with Karaoke and wealthy older men drunkenly reliving their glory days through air guitar and Jack Daniels on the rocks while their wives overeat and talk about kid’s soccer practices and how little time they have for themselves) but once they called her, or maybe the mother character even leaned out the window while my mom was talking on the phone and said “ we can hear everything you’re saying!” To which I would have replied something like “ Really? You owe me twenty bucks,” “ try earplugs,” “Move to the Yukon if you don’t want neighbors,” “Get a life,” or even a good old fashioned “fuck off and die,” but which sent my mom into a neurotic downward spiral which has ended up prohibiting her from answering the phone in her own bedroom even years later, and causing more arguments between me, who just cant accept the fact that she cares what those bastards think so I just insist on talking even louder, my sister who also cares what stupid thoughtless people hear us say and, even more so, cares that it bothers Mom so she humors her (which I think just exacerbates the problem by allowing her to feel that that sort of neurotic behaviour is acceptable) and my mom who’s personality is shaped by deep concern for not offending or even inconveniencing anyone, ever, no matter their insignificance in her life. Once, in the car in the QFC lot (miles from the house!!) we were talking about when the neighbor mom came by and told us to cut the grass so the “weed seeds” would stop blowing into her yard and my mom hurriedly shushed me, as if they might be shopping at QFC just then too and could over hear us. I had a meltdown and opened the car door and screamed their last name at the top of my lungs. God forbid I should shut the hell up just to make my mom happy; I’m working on it. Anyway, our discussions about these petty and meaningless interactions have that same exact feeling as Jerry’s banter with his parents as to whether or not it was socially acceptable for him to accept the astronaut pen, and what people were going to say about him taking the pen, even though it was offered and his parents responsibility for allowing him to take the pen. My stomach is in knots just thinking about it. Seinfeld says in his commentary that its like Yiddish theatre being played out in life. It amazes me how powerful culture is that we can grow up isolated from it, never see it demonstrated, and still end up playing out the same types of interactions.
My mom and sister and I went to look at a house for sale once, my mom likes to look at houses, and the owner, whom I’m pretty certain was Jewish, spent about twenty minutes with us, during which I felt like we were having a great time, checking out the house etc, at the end of which he said “Good God, you people are giving me a pounding headache! Its like being at my mom’s house times three, I’d hate to sit down to dinner with the three of you.” I was shocked, as I always think of us as so likeable that anyone who meets us is immediately enchanted by our camaraderie, a kind of to-know-us-is-to-immediately-love-us kind of family, but when I reviewed the scenario there hadn’t been one second of silence since we walked in the house and for every opinion, two shrilly conflicted. Not too charming. It occurs to me that might also not be the best way for him to sell that house, but to each their own.
In similar news, I did the hair of this Upper West Side older Jewish lady named Estelle who everyone at school thought was out of her mind. I on the other hand felt like I already knew her. She isn’t crazy at all its just she knows exactly what she wants down to the hair, and isn’t afraid to ask for it, and she thinks her hair is a creature unlike any other and must have an experienced technician to understand its mechanics. Which, in Seattle, seems at the very least eccentric, if not nuts, but in New York is almost everyone. She had short, older mom hair, a fairly simple combination form. Ms V helped me, it needed to be a little longer to cover a couple of thin spots in the back that she couldn’t really see. I did a pretty good job I must say and she loved it, she told me not to go anywhere expensive when I graduate because she wants to follow me. I thought she was great. Kind of like the mom from that early morning Jewish wedding I did this Summer. Later Dawn, the one who hates me :), told me that if she got Estelle again, she had already planned to cuss her out and tell her that she shouldn’t have students cut her hair if she was going to be such a crazy perfectionist about it, she said she was going to refuse to do her hair since it was her last week before graduation and she could afford to make a big stink about it. Just goes to show how big a difference knowing someone’s context can make.
I cut Andy Reinecke’s hair, of lapdance infamy. He’s adorable and has dashing Richard Gere-y silver hair. I didn’t do the greatest job as he had me laughing so hard the whole time talking about his anger management foibles. On the way in to get his haircut that day, some G’d down black guy cut him off and thought Andy would be intimidated. Apparantly he picked the wrong cracker, ‘cause Andy parked and made his way through traffic to try and get into the dude’s car! Homes looked terrified and busily locked his doors so Andy couldn’t get in. Andy was all “Oh, you’re scared? But you’ve got your bandana on, I thought you were down!!?? Don’t touch my car mothaf**ka! I have your license plate!” I asked him if he had thought about therapy, he claims to have “chilled out a lot.” He’s in the wine distribution biz, which, hear tell, is pretty cutthroat and Mafioso. I think he may have found his calling. Probably not so good for his blood pressure, but very good for engendering hilarious stories, I’m telling you.
This week I got my hair flat ironed to where it looks like a tigi ad, I thought I had straight hair until I saw this. Very weird. Everyone likes it but I think it makes my hair look thin and accentuates the Great Clip Cut. Oh well, nice to know the possibilities one’s hair holds.
Thursday I did one of the first quarter students’ hair. She is a beautiful young woman of mixed ethnicity who has hip length locks that she has been growing for six years. I think she was sent from god so that I would have some ones locks to do and practice cool stuff on in school, a blessed break from the endless relaxers and flatirons. I did her color. It was a hell of a lot of work but ended up looking really cool I bleached a bunch of them, then toned half of them with 10A to take out some of the warmth, and did the rest with 6RR for a bright copper look. Then I did the two triangles over her ears a caramel brown color, the back is her natural black with some of the tips that had old bleach on them colored with the 6RR. It looks beautiful. Totally calico. I braided them up after I twisted them and they looked like Indian corn. I taught Magic (one of the fifth quarter students) how to twist locks, which was nice since she taught me so much, wraps, relaxers etc. I really like Magic but things have been a little tense between us since some really amazing circumstances forced us into conversations more intimate than our relationship was built to bear. Almost two weeks ago, I “just happened” to be working the front desk when Magic and Naeemah came in talking shit about how she had just seen her man drive by and he hadn’t stopped to say hello. She called him up and was trying to get him to stop by and drop off “something” for her at school. He was saying he didn’t want to come in, he was busy etc, she told him all he would have to do was call, her girl Vivi was at the front desk and I would call her over the PA and tell her she had someone waiting for her outside. He refused. She got off the phone talking about “Damn DJs! Niggas at a record store and won’t come through.” I said; “ Oh, your man is a DJ? Where does he play at?” She said “Well he use to have Fridays at the Mediterranean, but it got moved up to The Fall.” When she said that my heart fell through the soles of my shoes since I knew already it was the boyfriend of one of my best friends. I asked his name, even though I already knew. It was him of course. I asked, I thought very nonchalantly, how long they had been together. A year. Half the time he and my friend, we’ll call her Athena, have been together. I weakly said, so when she found out I knew him it wouldn’t be like I never mentioned it, “Oh. Did you know I do his hair?” She didn’t of course and I could tell she felt a little awkward that I had been doing his hair and he never told her. Of course she was about to find out that there were a lot of things he never told her. I was a greener shade of pale by this time and excused myself shakily from the desk, walked into the breakroom and asked Bintu if she could come and talk to me upstairs for a min. I told her what had just transpired, and asked if she thought I should tell Magic or what the hell I should do. We decided I had to say something, but I was going to wait until I figured out the right way. Of course the second I stepped back into the room she was like “why did you ask how long Me and “DJ Douchebag”* been together?” to which I simply said “I have to tell you something.” The whole experience was unreal. And its not like she blames me per se but she knows that Athena and I are friends and so probably wonders where my loyalties lie. I just want his cheating bastard ass to be lonely and miserable, that’s pretty much my priority, beyond that, they both deserve way better. He is still trying to play them both, but I don’t talk about it too much with either of them, it’s a tender area for me, as I’ve been kicked in that spot more than once before. I don’t have a lot of patience with it. Anyway, Thursday was her last day so it was nice that she and I got to have that little chill, uncharged time together before she left.
Today, Friday, we cleaned the school, packed up our things, had a little auction where we could buy beauty supply odds and ends in exchange for the flimsy dollar store gold coins that the instructors give out to us as rewards for things like doing a great job, dealing with a tough client, basically going above and beyond the call of duty. On the one hand that sort of reward system harkens back to kindygarden, but on the other hand I got some bendy permrods, a tiny diameter curling iron, some fastdry nailpolish spray like they use in the nailshops (God only knows what is in that stuff, probably Hanford leftovers, but its god’s gift to the perennially rushed,) and some clips, all for free so I guess the coins get mixed blessing status. Friday also brought goodbye to the fifth quarter students who are graduating and to those of us third quarters who won’t be returning. Unfortunately, that includes my # 1 roll partner, Bintu. She is 6 months pregnant and hasn’t been able to finish a press and curl without puking for the last four months. She will be back in the summer but by that time god willing, I’ll be finished. It sucks, I don’t know what Ill do without her. Of course we still say we’re going to hang out, but its never the same, and the times I really need her are in school when I just need one intelligent glance to make up for the prevailing fisheye. In surprise news, those leaving also include Ruby, of Ruby and Nathan, who has decided to defect and join forces with enemy beauty school Greenwood Academy of Hair. I will miss her, for all her poor decision making and boy craziness, and even though she openly admits to habitually not washing her face at night she really is a nice girl and getting to be a pretty talented stylist. Plus those of us few who are left are really going to be hurting on the floor handling all the clients without fifth quarter and second quarter not on the floor yet (not to mention when those bizarre and nutty second quarter folks do come out on the clinic, we’ll all long for the days when we had to do it all by ourselves.)
Bottom line? Two quarters left. That’s about six and a half months. Less if I can manage to drag myself to some makeup hours. Happy holidays, may your days be merry and bright, and may all your haircuts turn out right (I know, I’ve got 3 weeks off, I’ll get some rest, buh bye.)



* real name withheld to protect victim’s identity

What About Your Friends?

This week may prove to be a real hurter. Even as I typed that I felt like shifting my thinking. Now why is that line indented? Oh well. Ok, fixed it. Anyway, let me rephrase myself and make this something worth reading instead of a gripefest (my friend Amani always calls that sort of thing a pity party.) True enough, things have really not been going my way for the last few days. We can start as far back as last issue with the great clips for hair Trojan horse which came bearing the unexpected gift of a botched and painfully obvious bad haircut. Not as dramatic as 100 armor-clad Greek soldiers bursting forth, ready for battle (and not nearly as sexy either now that I think of it…) but in a modern setting, almost equally devastating ;). On Friday, I went and tried to hook my computer up to the wireless connect at The Elysian Brewery (which I really can’t stand but seem to always end up in. Its like a barn full of fratboys.) Naturally, something was not set up right about my wireless card so I couldn’t get online. I left my debit card there, which I didn’t realize until I was buying new mascara at Sephora the next day after I woke up with my right eye swollen shut. I don’t know for sure it was the mascara, but when in doubt, throw it out! Mom taught me that about fish and mayo but it works for eye makeup too. Then I had dinner at Mom’s and went over to Frannie’s to do her hair and watch comic view. Sat I worked, then took my computer over to Tyson and Brian’s house which, while it is only 10 mins from work, took me over an hour because of football traffic. Indubitably the worst thing about living in Seattle, save the rain. Brian is a computer nerd extraordinaire and he’s fabulous. One of those rare Seattle types who do whatever it is that they’ve said they’re going to do. Anyway, he has completely hooked up this little computer of mine and he fixed whatever it was that was disabling me from getting online at Elysian. Then I had to go get my stupid debit card. It was saved behind the counter, thanks guys! My friend Sophia who works there was about to go to some new night at a club called premiere which is wack by location alone, situated right next to the new, ugly and unwanted retractable roof stadium downtown. It was terrible, the sound was terrible, the crowd was sparse and weird and in classic Seattle form they were charging $25 to get in. She had passes, dear reader, I have not lost my mind. I did see friend Derrick there, nice to chat with him and as well to hear him spin even it he did have to play some corny top 40 crap that I’m sure he closes his eyes and thinks of England on, he just has crazy skills and its nice to hear. Especially after whomever it was that went before him who apparantly felt that it was anybody’s game and just played one dancehall tune literally on top of another one. But, Sophia and I had a great time dancing and just clowning around. She’s a great dancer and, like me, doesn’t care about acting silly in public. Also I got picked up on by an Asian guy! That is a first! And since virtually two thirds of the men in Seattle are Asian… you do the math. J
Sunday I went to work and I could tell that my car was running a little funny by the time I got to the top of the garage. In a rare stroke of preemptive brilliance I decided not to take the freeway home and not stop at the beauty supply downtown even though I was supposed to do both Derrick and Frannie’s locks and left fave twisting product at school. I got to Cloverdale and 44th (a mere 2 blocks from my house, cant complain too bitterly about that) and Sizzla came to an unrelenting halt. I carried my groceries to the house and sat my go-go-go ass on the couch and thought about what in the name of all things holy I was going to do without a car for any amount of time, not to mention when I was going to get the thing in to the mechanic since it needed to be towed and it was Sunday, 7pm and I have to be at work Monday, 8 am. After a few moments of what I must say was pretty calm ponderance, I did what I always do when I don’t know what to do and picked up the phone. I sucked it up and called Mad Max, an ex with whom I hadn’t spoken in months and whose ending doesn’t bring fine mem’ry to mind. But, he happens to be a Japanese auto mechanic (he’s Senegalese, the cars are Japanese. An equation I wouldn’t care to reverse…) and he knows if the chips were down I’d drive him back to Dakar if that’s what needed doing, so I asked him who he thought would be able to come to my house and work on the car so that I didn’t have to kick off with a $200 towing bill. He thought he probably could and was there in half an hour, in the dark with a flashlight. It is about three weeks later as I now write and I got the ol’ girl back but a few days ago. He charged me no labor and sold me all the parts shop price. Still, it came to a cool $1200 parts and I shake my fist at the used car salesman with a heart o’ gold (and a janky, Spokane grill to match) who told me that, repairwise, owning a Lexus was just like owning a Toyota. Not so. And get this, Mad Max lent me his ride the last few days when he could hear in my voice that one more bus ride from Rainier Beach to the U Village might be the difference between this world and the next. Said ex’s said ride is a cobalt blue 1987 or so 8 cylinder Mustang convertible with all chrome bumpers, windshield wipers and 100 spoke rims. Good lord I was nervous driving that car. I was SURE I was going to get pulled over, and you cant even argue with the cop, its like you know you shouldn’t be driving that car, and you kind of feel you deserve the ticket. After all, nobody who isn’t up to something pushes that kind of ride. Well, Mad Max sold the accursed thing while I was driving it and of course the brother who bought it wanted it right away. A very annoying and predictably bizarre ghetto situation. So, I had to give it back immediately. Naturally, I had been using my worth-its-weight-in-gold zone four pass donated by Ariel to park the thing, since Capitol hill has two meter maids per civilian driver. Mad Max picked it up while it was parked on the hill and I was at school, the pass unfortunately remained in the car and was given with the suspicious vehicle to the proud new owner who not 12 hours later got pulled over and, as the result of driving an outrageously ostentatious car as a black man with an outstanding warrant thorough the south end at night, has been in jail ever since. My zone four pass remains in the car at an unspecified location and I have received two tickets: one for parking for too long in a zone four space and while the child-eating bastards were at it, one for not having a front plate. Any questions?
One last outrageous thing that made this whole carless for three weeks thing even more of an outrage than it would have been: I have been hustling like crazy to get all my dental work done in the right quick so’s I can leave Beelzebub’s University Village Management Office as soon as possible, since I know my future may not hold cushy health benefits for some time to come. Anyway, as luck would have it my dentist had a cancellation (getting an appointment with them is akin to getting a human on the phone calling the IRS) so I eagerly took it and skipped school, hustled downtown in a taxi and patiently lay in the chair while a dentist different than my regular one injected me with enough Novocain to keep my face numb from mandible to corrogator (eyebrow) for eight hours. When the numbness wore off, I could feel that something was NOT right. My cheek (not my tooth) was really, really sore to the touch and when I woke up the next morning, it was swollen like I had a ping pong ball stuffed in my cheek. I went back to the dentist a few days later (at my Mom and sisters constant and nagging behest, they were sure it was infected despite no signs of infection) and was told that I had a hematoma or blood clot from the anaesthetic needle. Well that’s just fine, there was, as I knew, nothing they could do about it. They did prescribe me antibiotics “just in case.” Just in case I wanted a yeast infection to take my mind off the cheek pain. We just had to wait it out. “WE” except I was the only one who had to ride the 42, transfer to the 7 downtown and walk from Broadway to school looking like Alvin the fucking chipmunk. I believe this is a perfect case of insult to injury. My face is almost back to normal, now almost a month later but you can still see the bruising and if I suck in my cheek I can feel the soreness at the needle’s point of entry (“so don’t suck in your cheek!”)
Its become a little convoluted, but the whole focus of this entry was, and is still, about how great my friends are. I had a whole bunch of other trying experiences the last two weeks that now seem too trite to retell but the gist is; I’m freaking Penelope Pitstop. I get in the most outrageous, annoying and ludicrous situations and all I ever have to do is think about the right person to call and someone, with some specific, perfectly honed and very costly expertise that I could never afford comes through every single time. In fact, I told one of my friends, who lives in LA about how much my car cost, just kvetching, and he put $200 in my bank account without saying a word. It’s staggering. There are people who never understand why I put as much energy and time into my social life and taking care of my friendships as I do. It isn’t a part of our efficiency society, outside of finishing up work and going out to drink and schmooze about work and shopping and other peoples’ personality flaws. But really loving friendships are kind of a dodo bird. Its something people I meet always say, you have such great friends. Its so true, and ive worked hard at it, we take years finding out how to be the best friends to each other, taking care, vanquishing our weaknesses and honing strengths. It is one thing that I really treasure about growing up in one place, as well as seeing the importance that my parents always placed on making time for friends, not just for fun activities but for when things went wrong or you needed outside perspective, or they did. I can’t imagine what their divorce would have been like if they were each other’s only support. That’s what that pithy cliché about things “taking a village” is about, we need each other. We cant do it alone and that should be so obvious but it isn’t. That’s why so many youth are so drawn to other cultures; its this radically new feeling of…community!!! The magic word that we seem to be unique in using and not having. Raking it in in isolation is not a success in my book.
Let see. Why is reflection so hard these days? What is reflection? Sun glinting off of a lake, your image in the mirror when you flip on the bathroom light, the tell tale square of flash in smiling snapshot irises. All those images have light in common, maybe that’s why I can’t shine anything back. It not reflecting when you have to be the light source. I haven’t truly seen the sun, been outside for more than an hour, or lately even seen it through a window for months and months. My skin is pallid and hair lank. Getting dressed is a chore and I have hat hair all the time. Who cares anyway because I wear a smock thirty hours a week and black pants. I rue the day that someone decided black pants were acceptable in any situation and should be incorporated into all dress codes. A year at Dahlia Lounge and I would look down and want to chew my legs off like wolverine in a steel trap
Jesus, I thought I said this wasn’t going to be a pity party! Shaddap already.
I did some cool hair this last few weeks. Yesterday I did another of Mom’s good friend’s hair. She wears a very clean cut and exacting bob. Unlike all these layery choppy cuts that most people have these days, which are pretty forgiving as far as fucking-up goes, the bob will tell on you. If you keep the tension that you use in the back when you cut over the ears, you’ll end up with holes in the bottom edge right under the ears, cause the hair needs to be longer to make up for the sticky-outieness of ears. If you cut one parting shorter than the one under it, or cut your guide when you cut the subsequent parting, it will look graduated and like a choppy line. Anyway, it looked pretty darn good, I must say. Especially for my first time. She liked it a lot, and that’s the important part. I felt really good about it until Ariel said it was asymmetrical. I don’t think it really is but she’ll be in Hawaii for the next month so I wont get to see. If I was in Hawaii I wouldn’t care if my hair looked like Wynonna Judd’s, I’d be so happy.
I colored this fabu drama fag from SCCC Theater dept who was Jack in the Sondheim musical Into the Woods. He had a big level 3 fro (was af am) and wanted it red, without destroying his hair. Bleach was out, so that was a challenge. 4 ozs of 6RR w/30 vol dvlpr and copper intensifier later, he was a redhead, subtle enough to avoid the dreaded clown wig look but bright enough to be perfect for the stage. I did Frannie’s locks ash blonde, a long and arduous process. A word to the wise when coloring locks; untwist them a bit, or end up with leopard print hair. I managed to salvage it but it woulda been a LOT less work had I thought of that sooner. I cut Nellie’s beautiful blonde hair from too long just above the shoulder. I’ve been hustling manicure and pedicure hours whenever I can get them, I do not want to be in fifth quarter with 200 hours left and 75 of ‘em need to be nail hours. Nightmare. Oh, I burnt my first hair during a press and curl. It wasn’t too bad, the woman had awful hair, you know how I feel about relaxers, and I would have actively tried to get her to get one as soon as possible. Feh, SO THICK so coarse and nappy. Locks or frequent relaxers, those are her two options because it honestly didn’t matter how much heat you put on it, it didn’t look right and reverted by the time you were an inch up her scalp. So, yeah, I burnt a small section of her hair about half way up in the back. Felt bad, I couldn’t believe it but I didn’t say anything to her about it! That was so unlike me. But I wanted her out of there so bad and she was so difficult anyway and I was sure that with as much hair as she had she would never miss it and most likely never notice. Plus she had the nerve to come in the salon for a shampoo press and curl with home hair dye all over her head.
This week we all had to write papers on a skin care line that we use or are interested in using. It was an amazing thing to see so clearly everybody’s academic experience laid plain. I’ve never seen anyone so stressed out over a little 5 page research paper. We had to go over each ingredient and as you might guess many products have the same ingredients. Anyway, even after hearing them read several times most people really couldn’t even sound out let alone pronounce the names of some of the ingredients (things like propylene glycol or diazolidinyl urea) and were hard pressed to write in complete sentences. I wont detail Amy’s paper as I’m really not trying to mock anyone, but you can imagine, you can just imagine. I tried to show people how to look at a really long word (di-ethyl-tri-amine or some such thing) and break down which syllables go with which but they really didn’t want to hear it, they’d rather just preface each sentence with “ok, I don’t know if I’m saying this right,” or “I cant say these big words.” It must be hard coming up with lesson plans for such a diverse group with such disparate skill levels. You can’t challenge some people in the class without dusting others, and if you teach to the LCD you…end up with a WA state public school education! But seriously folks…
Now were learning some basic A/P stuff, 10th grade bio curriculum. Cell structure, bones of the skull etc.
Our practicals are next week, we did a timed practice today. Facial, full head pincurls, full head fingerwaves and then an airform. All in under 4 hours. I felt like a train wreck by 5. Mahdis is visiting and I feel a little hookey coming on. I know I’ll regret it, but I like to leave later for later.
It’s getting late, its 30 degrees tops outside, and I have skool in 8 hours. It’s time for me to pull my hood on, tuck jammies into socks and get under the covers. Until nex’ time. xoxoV