I Can't Believe You Spiced My Hairdresser!

I guess a few years ago my friend Stephen slept with other homosister posse member RC's stylist and thats what RC says every time the guy's name comes up. That phrase kills me. Spiced! Ha!This week was nearly the end of my career as nodding yesman. I was on the verge of losing my temper after I got docked two hours for not having my assignment printed out to hand in on friday. First let me be clear about the nature of the assignment; ITS A RESUME. I spent the previous day helping everyone else write and format their resumes because mine was done and they would have been hard pressed to get a job at Shari's as a fricking fry cook. Anyway, I know i should have had it printed up but i very honestly didnt have time. I dont have time for any of this shit! And I dont think I need Ms Dolores' help getting a job! I wouldnt hire her to polish my silver (if I had any silver) let alone as a member of a salon team where youhave to spend hours in close quarters together. Is learning the objective here, or is raising one's tolerance for beurocratic mediocrity. I just know that it is in their best interest to get me to have to make up as few hours after graduation as possible as I think I may get less and less fun to work with past that point. Plus I have to pay again for every makeup hour. Weak!We went down to the Millionair's club homless to work program on Thursday afternoon. It was pretty cool I have to say. I did about 9 haircuts in an hour and a half. mostly buzz cuts but a few real ones and a bunch of beard trims. Everyone was clean, grateful and polite. All interesting characters, serious and intelligent. All seemingly sound of mind and body and quite cleanly. I turned one guy away and immediately suffered some really punishing guilt and regret. He had some small sores on his head, just from really dry and dirty scalp. I knew they werent contagious, just a little gross. I absolutely should have done his haircut anyway. But I called Ms Dolores over for her opinion on his "condition" and she told him he would have to come back when his scalp healed up. I felt like such a jerk, so spoiled. I should have put on some gloves and kept it pushin' but I wussed out. I wont make that mistake again. It was great experience and cool for me to see what the general homeless population is about. Its a wonderful facility, large and clean, serving what smelled and looked like pretty good food and with a lot of safe resources for cleaning up and looking for a job. I probably could have used the place on more than one occasion. Just kidding...not that funny...win some lose some.
Ms A, my fri AM rollerset regular, killed me this week talking about how all men want these days is oral sex. She's talking about really old guys too! Hilarious! She came in all exhilerated from telling some nogoodnik man who lives accross the street from her to go to hell. Apparantly she's finally found a guy who has had multiple bypass surgeries and a defibrulator (sp?) who never bothers her for sex and only comes over when she calls. She's never looking elsewhere. He's caucasian, which is a first for her and she says he's disgustingly wealthy. She said I remind her of her: Good looking and not hungry, you dont need 'em! You might want em but you dont need 'em. She's not altogether wrong. She also wants to hook me up with her grandson who is admittedly shy with a little weight problem..she might be closer to wrong on that one.Angie recommended me another person, to whom I gave a really really mediocre haircut. The style was good, but when Ms Dolores went through it there were so many corner and long peices. I was really disappointed in myself and Ms Dolores looked at me like I had lost my mind. WHile I was doing it could feel that I was off, I'm so damn overextended, its hard not to lose the grip every now and again. Redemptively, I gave my mom's friend Roslyn a really good curly cut, which I was proud of and a facial. Oh, speaking of facials this was a highlight; Abena came up to me while I was airforming one of my regulars (a very nice narcoleptic woman who works for SCCC. She has a hair style that was last seen on every jack in the bicycle deck and not since, and she comes in for a shampoo airform every week) and said "Ok, I have to do a facial and I have no idea what to do, I haven't done one on a person yet." So I start telling her the procedure and explaining the steps, and my regular says "let me see that name tag 'cause I dont want to go to you!" Abena says "Oh yeah, you dont want me! Im the worst!" You know, kind of a little banter. I asked when her client was coming in and she said "Oh she wanderin' around here somewhere." At which point the woman who was seated at the shampoo chair next to my station waiting for her daughter (who happened to be one of my kids from checkpoint at Aki) to finish her pedicure said "That's me, and dont worry becauseI dont want it anymore." she had been sitting there listening to Abena talk about how bad she was that whole time. It was hilarious. Abena was so embarrassed and kept saying "I can't even be mad, I wouldnt want me to do it either if I heard that." She didnt care if Abena was mad anyway, she just wasnt about to go for it. My client was so mortified. I ended up doing the woman's facial (she is Ethiopian and despite being at least 40 has the skin of a teenager, Newsflash: life is not fair,) which was fine because Sherman, our class' resident meth addict was doing her daughter's facial and even with me saying the steps out loud he used the mud mask as an exfoliant. Make sure you ask me if you come in for a facial with anyone but me, your experience could potentially vary quite a bit.
I didnt go to school tuesday but rather stayed home and cleaned my house which was, ahem, needed. It looks great and it felt so good to have the day to myself, even if I did have to spend until almost one o clock being bufetted back and forth from the DOL to the Social Security Administration office. I guess I finally got the no match problem resolved after this last five hour stint with Seattle's finest. If you think the crowd is bad at the DOL, try the SSA. Whew. Lowest common denominator city. And the woman working behind the bulletproof plexi window had the nerve to ask me, upon seeing that I was born in Manhattan, if my parents bought me a condo when I was born that I could use as an investment property now since they were so cheap in the '70's. No they didnt, nothing of the sort. but thanks for suggesting that, it hadnt occured to me. Well, I told her, we moved here when I was not even one. So she asks, did they get in at the beginning of the Microsoft stock? NO, no, they didnt do that either. Jesus, what are you trying to do? I'm already at the bottom of the crab barrel here at the SSA office, want me to try to jump the three feet to the pavement and see what kind of damage I can do? It's no accident that place is on the first floor, especially with that woman, the patron saint of missed wealth and bungled opportunity, manning the desk. Anyway, I had to go back to the licensing place and wait an eternity to show them my SS letter proving that I have the unique pleasure of being Genevieve Elise Lapidus. In a strange twist, the (very cute Morris Chestnut looking) guy behind the counter at the DOL, who has seen me almost everyday for the last couple of weeks, gave me his phone number! If I can bring a smile to the face of a WADOL employee, I can do just about anything. Hey, maybe I'll call him...at least I know he's employed