Labolindsey J. Swihart

In a final calculated move which rivaled the gaslighting of Empire of Evil Assholes; Lexus of Bellevue Chapter, the Washington State Department of Licensing (who must have felt their feindish vice grip on my progress beginning to ebb,) sent me, at excruciatingly long last, my license and the coveted Certificate of Licensure!! "Calloo Callay!" I thought, "I can now send in the other paperwork from SVI to NY DOL and be on my way to all of their asanine testing centers!" And if all they needed was a copy of my license, I'd have been right. But, no, they need the certificate of Licensure. And though I do have one, its as much use to me as the land treaties were between the Pequots and those peaceable britsh settlers... since the damn thing is made out TO THE WRONG PERSON. And that person, who may be holding my certificate in their hot weird, genderless, little hand, if they have hands, goes by the name of (drumroll please...) Labolindsey J. Swihart.
When I read that name, in the column marked liscencee, right beneath my correct name and address, I became completely hysterical. I cannot remember laughing that hard ever. Is that a name? What in the hell? My mom suggested "Maybe its Thai (whispervoice:) they have very strange names!" Court posed the question; "Is that a name or did someone go face down on the keyboard?" and reminded me of my first job, as a telemarketer, for a company named CamTy (which turned out to be a fraud. I was colleting money in the name of search and rescue from little old ladies for the personal financial gain of my boss, who turned out to live up the block from me and i had to see him all the damn time after he got busted. Very awkward.) At CamTy I amused myself by collecting lists of the strangest, silliest most bizarre names off of my call lists. Names such as Larry Longnecker and Sporer Dalyrimple. Raquel swears she has the lists in some box of her stuff at her moms but alas, lost to me. Anyway, we spent many high, collegiate hours in tears over those names and I wouldnt have been at ALL suprised to find Labolinsey J. Swihart on one of them. When i managed to pull myself together, I called Rosie McGrew (which is more than a little Dr Seuss-y sounding itself) and thanked her SO much for being so expedient and sending me a certificate, now could i get one in my own name? What a fucking joke that place is. Now new york has THREE different and incorrect certificates of licensure for me, im sure thatll really speed the process on this end. Christ. As I write now though, my application with all materials present is at the NY dept of state, I am officially finished with WA state DOL.
I have been working a lot here getting my book together, ive done some really nice shoots with that lovely kiwi photographer. I met with a rep for freelance hair and makuppers in chelsea, which is exciting. Now she has me on their list to assist any of the artists they rep when they need assistants. I finally got to work with Marlette, this incredible makeup artist and fabulous woman who I have been maniacally pursuing since I got here. She had a job doing a print ad for some sony product or other that was from three in the afternoon until three in the morning last Saturday. Last sat was a hell of a day. Heres the deal.
Remember Abena? My dear friend from SVI? Well listen here. Her husband was shot and killed in a seven eleven parking lot in Kent last week. He was a G, he really was. And a pimp. Could be a bastard, but was a great father, and her man for ten years. He pulled up in the parking lot at an inopportune time, it seems. Some asian gangster types had just gotten into a drunken arguement with the clerk who refused to sell them more alchohol. As Abena's man and his brother pulled up behind the car, the kids, in a drunken temper fit, just sprayed the lot with rounds of bullets. Only one person was hit. The bullet passed through the trunk into the back seat and into his spinal column and he was dead before they got to the hospital. I dont really go into other people's stories in this thing unless they pertain. I say that to say this, as Ms Alexander would say. Its a complicated story, he was really stuck and was doing his best to stay that way, making the wrong choice at every turn, paralyzed by growing up. We do not have forever to make up our minds. Fuck around too long and the choice will be completely out of your hands. Since her husband was originally from New York, his family flew his body back here for the funeral and Abena and their three children packed as much as they could and moved to the bronx to live with her in laws. Sat was the funeral at a lovely, small chapel in harlem. I was the only white skinned person there. It was good to see all the family coming together, weird to see his young beautiful dead face in the casket, heartwrenching to see his kids looking at his body. The saddest thing was to think of that stupid spoiled drunk moment robbing these kids of a lifetime with their dad, and their dad robbing them of it by being wild and out when he should have been home. Its just awful. But its just wonderful that Abena used the momentum to move out here like she had wanted to and couldnt while he was alive holding her back, just wonderful that she has this great chance to start over with all this family and even more wonderful that her kids dont have to grow up in West Seattle. So lemonade is being made, theres just some tears in it.
I had already taken work off for the funeral (more on that later, this day is to be instrumental in my employment history i think) so when Marlette's agency called to see if I could assist that day and I had to be in harlem at the time it started i felt rather discouraged. However, i told them i had a funeral and I could be there by 4:30. Funeral at two, on the A by 33o, transfer to the F at west 4 and in Dumbo (down under the manhattan bridge overpass) for the rooftop party shoot by 4:30. Marlette was doing makeup (duh) and i was doing hair. We had to do an angel and a devil and a boy who was supposed to have been wearing a dog suit all night so his hair was supposed to "look sweaty." It was a halloween party thing. Angel had very curly coppery red hair which I pinned up in sections to make a big hair halo around her head. the devil girl's hair was kind of like mine so i just backcombed it (the only way to survive an outdoor shoot intact) and flatironed the ends to be pointy and devilish. Then we spent a rediculously long time in the freezing cold on the rooftop, intermittantly waiting in the freight elevator to avoid the wind, while the (reputably slow) photographer took a kajillion shots and Marlette and I danced around, did the hokey pokey and the electric slide, both in scrubs her in a rubber alien head standing in as extras in the background. It still really didnt look like a party scene, but it was backdropped by the lit up brooklyn bridge, which was nice. Then the whole crew piled into the RV and drove to union square for the rest of the shoot. We got there around 11 pm. We had to do a shot of some jazz musicians and then a shot of two girls dressed to party in a cab. Devil girl got remade up with soft pink makeup and long wavy hair parted in the middle and the new girl had black razor cut williamsburg hair that could only be flatironed and then messed up with some waxy product. They looked good, and the idea was to make them look like theyd done their own hair so it wasnt supposed to look perfect. I was there until 230, when I begged off since I had to work the next day. I took a cab home. It was an amazing day. I feel like I can do so much in a day here now whereas when I first got here it was an acheivement to get to the grocery store and the post office in one day. Well, maybe the post office is a bad example, it is pretty much the only thing you can do in a day. By the way, my friend got the DVDs that i sent contraband through bribing the mail carrier!! I wish he and I could work something out on a more regular basis! Maybe a sign like UPS Yes or No that I can flip over when I have something to mail and dont feel like waiting in the postal welfare health clinic unemployment driver licensing line...
Yesterday I did Marlette's color. She has this outrageously long beautiful hair that she likes to color like wood paneling, white blond, honey blonde, chocolate brown all randomly woven in. It came out beautifully I have to say! It took me too long, but it was gorgeous. I gave her a cut too which looked great. I felt SO proud that someone of her stature in the fashion industry would trust me to do their color. I kind of cant believe it. The best thing is that we did a trade, that she'll give me makeup for my kit and ill do her color for free! She gave me so much fabulous makeup I am kind of overwhelmed by her generosity. It would have cost me almost a thousand dollars to buy what she gave me. Not to mention it all has her artist juju on it. Ill be in her debt not only for the product but for the faith in me and my skill for as long as I'm around. We went out, along with two stylist she worked with over the weekend, for drinks at Schillers the beautiful LES bar where the kiwi photographer works. We ate calamari and drank champagne, which was bottomless and led to a serious hangover today.

Benchmarks, Licensing, and the Caucasoid Conversion Factor

I think I wrote about cutting my mom's hair while I was in beauty school. The best way I can think to describe it is perhaps the way a brand new hospital resident surgeon would feel were he to open up an abdomen, prepared for a simple gall bladder removal and find a partially absorbed twin, alive and, flourishing off waste material, finishing a PhD thesis, wrapped around the lower intestine. My mom's hair is like that absorbed twin: unexpected and necessitating a delicate approach. It was memorable as one of my worst beauty school experiences (non social ones anyway) and I did a less than mediocre job, sweating bullets all the way, and it took me two hours. At least two hours. Ms V kept coming over and checking on me, my mom was desperately trying to keep a cheerful outlook and keep conversation going. By the end of it, I was totally lost on her head, near tears and had to had over the shears to ms V and let her finish the job. It was traumatic, and until this trip back to Seattle, I never attempted it again. This time though, we decided to give it a second go. I mean, why should she pay 70 plus bucks when I have had tons more experience since the first twin removal operation and can do it for free. So I did. And it was good. It was a good cut, a benchmark. I did not get lost in her hair and even more amazing I gave her a blow out. I have never seen my mom with her hair styled. When I first came to NY I realized why I never see people on the street with hair like my mom's, and its not because no one has it. Mom has classic jewish hair. But women with hair like that blow dry it. Otherwise its uncontrollable! I love how my mom's hair looks natural, dont get me wrong. Its full and soft and beautiful but its very....varied, some curly some straight, some kinky some...not. You know, difficult. It looked terrific blowdried! Really beautiful. All her textures were evened out and it was smooth and shapely. THe point is, it was a benchmark. I could really see how far ive come. Unlike being successful in regular school, like writing papers and stuff, I cant convince myself that I didnt learn anything and I could have done just as well without the class I just needed someone to make me do the work, I really started at square one, knowing nothing and now I can make my West Coast, au naturale Mom look just like the upper east side jewclone blowout dolls!! Yeah, right! No thanks. They wish they could be as foxy as moms!
My moms looks amazing. In that vein I've been ruminating about plastic surgery. I saw Billy Bob Thornton's ex on some E special about celebrity exes. They conducted this whole interview with her, talking all about Angelina, about the kids and the divorce, what its like to be a celebrity ex (read: a nobody who used to screw somebody and got used to the attention.) It was a 10 minute segment at least, all the while neglecting to comment on the fact that she has had her entire face rebuilt and now looks like a scary sideshow freak. She had these horrible bulbous cheekbones, huge teeth, wide tight eyes and a clownishly pronounced mouth. She was so upsetting looking that I actually screamed when i saw her, Mahdis' jaw dropped. Finally at the end the interviewer said lightly "So, any plastic surgery?" (cooincedentally showing an old picture of the beautiful woman she used to be at the exact same time they popped the question) "Nope! Just some breast augmentations which I had taken out and put back in and taken out again so that was four surgeries total." The very idea that she thinks other people look like her without surgery, that anyone could possibly believe that that was how the good lord designed her is positively delusional. I have seen several women who come really close to that level of renovation at the salon. I get a close up of all their face seams and their hard tight ears with deep folds where their cheeks meet their ears. Once when I first started and I was basing this woman's hairline for a color retouch, I pulled her ear back and there was this long open cut all behind it, only partially healed. It startled me, but she just steady reading Vanity Fair so I was like "Should I avoid this area? It looks a little...irritated." She was horrified that I mentioned it, Shit! Coulda warned a sister! If I had a big open wound behind my ear and someone was about to pull my ear back I would say something! Anything! She never spoke to me again, and I've done her hair several times since then. Wack!
I had a thought on the train last night, check it out: So this gorgeous young african american man sat down in a seat on the same side as mine but a few down. He leaned his head against the wall of the train and shut his eyes, so I could stare at his profile, pretty much unchecked, for a few minutes. I was thinking about what made him beautiful. I have to think about beauty a lot, and its hard to stop. In fact, I went to a wonderful open mic night of a bunch of acoustic folk style musicians last week in the east village and there was one woman singer who was AMAZING. Like Tori Amos meets Jeff Buckley. I was blown away by her music and still found myself thinking, her hair is fried...coulda done something with it...my cousin got that same nosejob. I need to quiet that voice and go back to just appreciating real beauty. Anyway, as i compiled my list of this boy's assets, I realized that these are all the things that these scary alien cyborg looking women are trying to acheive with surgery!! All the things that made him stunning are the things that made BBThornton's ex look like a extraterrestrial blowup doll. Thats when it hit me; the richest white and Jewish women in America are surgically altering themselves to look more like they are descendant from Africans!! Holy shit! Let's examine; prominant and high cheekbones, very full and pronounced lips (they get collagen injections not only in their lips but also in the area all around their mouths so that entire area is more protruding,) almondy eyes, tight, wrinkle free and heavily tanned skin, flat scooped noses and rounded nostrils, a sharp jawline and lest we forget thick, tall and voluminous hair! I bet if you looked in some fucked up ol' european book that describes the physical characteristics of negroids, or whatever the hell they called black peeps back in the day, it would ennumerate exactly those qualities. I talked to a plastic surgeon at work the other day and she said those are the most common facial surgeries. Amazing. She also said when the doctors in her office get bored they practice procedures on each other. ok. Being the avid in living color watcher that I am, I thought about what black people look like in whiteface, the Wayans bros in particular and also when Dave Chapelle dresses up as that white newscaster. They totally look like these women! They have these features that dont match their skin tones, their faces look exaggerated and cartoonish (like the ex Ms Thornton!) in the makeup where in their own skin they look beautiful! So, people make all this fuss, myself included about black women trying to fit into the white mode of beauty, wearing weaves, bleaching cream, narrowing their noses etc, and nobody notices that the upper eschelon of white society is Africafying themselves to the best of their ability! My dad just humorusly pointed out that it made perfect sense, since if you look at a large group of caucasians and then immediately a look at a large group of people with african heritage there is no question of whose better looking. Touche dad, touche.
I also cut my dads hair while I was home. He has been getting done in in Spokompton by a barber who is nothing short of sabotaging him into a mullet! When I came home over christmas his hair was, like, sticking up and all messy in the back. My dads hair should NOT be long enough to stick up in back! So i cut it in december, and when i saw him this time the mullet was creeping back into the picture. Dad, if youre reading this and I know you are, this fatwa is for you: You are hereby disallowed to ever go into that barbershop again, and on penalty of great clips haircuts for life, no man or woman shall see an adult man with male pattern baldness enter a hair shop and leave with length in the back and remain silent.
So I finally got my liscense in Washington state, I know, I know, try to hold your applause till the end. It was quite an experience. First of all I had gotten some bs letter about being licensed pending examination from the WA DOL after speaking with Rosie. Thats all well and good, but since as you may remember from the chronology, WA state no longer administers the test, I now needed a letter with a code from DL Roope who adminsters the practical exam instead. And I didnt have it. So i called DL Roope and told the woman that she was going to have to do SOMETHING because I couldnt take any more and I was going to cry, I was warning her, if I had to get back on the plane without taking the test for the second time. First she told me I could have taken it in NYC, hilarious, second she said she would call DL Roope, have them email the letter (imagine that!!! theyre online! catch a freaking clue DOL! Youre using an 8track player in a world of ipods!) and then I could use that candadate number to make and appointment with the independant service that administers the test. She did it, right away, and I made an appointment with, get this, Wings Aloft. Wings Aloft is the only place in seattle that adminsters the Cosmetology written exam at this time. And by in Seattle I mean in Tukwila. Its on Boeing Field in the middle of NOWHERE. I guess its where the FAA does its testing for pilots, there were a couple of stressed out looking older, white, piloty looking cats taking tests (that looked unbelieveably hard, I couldnt resist looking) on the computers around me. It was a weird environment which made me nervous and for a second when the first question came up on the screen I thought I was going to totally blank out and not be able to answer a damn thing. But, I pulled myself together, it really wasnt that hard, and passed. I dont know by what margin because they dont tell you unless you fail, which sucks. Theyll let you know how badly you did but not how well? And what if you want to study what you got wrong? Not an option. I know they give you your score if you fail because the asian lady sitting next to me failed. Apparantly for the third time. That really sucked. I felt hella crunchy (take that east coast!) when the lady handed us both our letters after she had started up a conversation in the testing room (which I had to cut short cause i thought the guy taking the pilot test was going to have an anyurism if we kept talking) and I had to tell her I passed but better luck next time. Very awkward. I am now licensed to practice cosmetology in WA state, which is another benchmark. Not as cool a feeling as being able to do my parents hair but its somthing. Now I can begin this dance with the NY DOL. Oh yeah, AFTER I took the test, I finally got the right letter from the DOL with the candidate number I needed giving me permission to take the test. Aint that a bitch! WHat a mess that DOL is.
I talked to an adorable girl on the train who was carrying her Milady's Textbook for cosmetologists so I asked her what school I should go to to brush up for the practical. She had an accent that would put Fran Drescher to shame, she told me three places she wouldnt go and nowhere she would. When she found out I was new in New York and came to do hair she said she thought about moving out of New York but that everyone told her she would just want to move back. I said "So? Then you move back! At least you left, people will tell you anything to keep you back from being special, from getting somewhere." I could see her looking at me like I was courageous and that it was inspirational to her to have me say that, like I knew she had faced hardships with the people around her. It was flattering "Yea, you right," she said" I shoud jus go, maybe people out there they gonna tink I's som'in new!" They sure will, I told her, youll be a real curiosity instead of an around the way girl. I hope she goes. It really carves you out a straight path to leave somewhere you love to do something for yourself. Its a benchmark.
Just a few minutes ago i forced myself off the couch to go mail some DVDs to a friend in seattle. The line at the post office is ALWAYS brutal but this time it was out the door and with only two employees both moving like they had life sentences at sing sing to work off. I had psyched myself up to wait but when I got there and saw the old Jamaican guys with illeterately addressed boxes, tied with twine, being sent to Negril, the large (individually and in number) and vociferous group of hasids with multiple packages to Israel and Jersey, burka-ed bangladeshi women who would ineveitably not speak english and take 20 mins to buy a 3 cent stamp from the trinidadian woman behind the bulletproof window who talks on her cell phone simultaneously the whole time and a million kids waiting with slips to pick up packages for their parents and grandparents (who are smart enough to avoid the line) I genuinely couldnt take it. As luck would have it I ran into my letter carrier (a chinese guy with an avid rep for drinking on the job)on the way home and I asked him if I gave him five bucks would he mail the package for me so I wouldnt have to wait in line. He asked me a couple times if i trusted him and while I didnt really and less so with every time he asked, I guess would rather rebuy the DVDs than wait an easy hour and a half in that um, diverse, line. So heres hoping they get there. Brooklyn is really something.

Unfathomable

Look, I havent much time but I had to let you know!! La Flaca was spotted in the New York Post!! In the Luxury column. Thats right, the skinny, sickly, sallow, scabby, sore suffering, sycophantic society succubus was featured full length AND interviewed in a peice on dress lending for social events. You could have knocked me over with a runway model's tibia. The caption of her photo read thusly:"Philanthropist Stephanie Herckheimer was loaned this Kim Hicks gown for the New York Botanical Winter Wonderland Ball. " and in the body of the article, "28 year old philanthropist Stephanie Herckheimer has some weeks where she's going to three events, and as fashion houses now sponsor the events they tend to offer to dress the commitees. Being a sample size helps. And Stephanie is, standing at 5'9". "I was at Escada trying on these gowns and some of them are so long they must be made for runway models. What other six foot size two girls are there out there?" None Steffie, so let yourself off the hook cause you are no linda evangelista! And...Philanthropist????!!?! Land O' Goshen!!! Is that what she is?? A philanthropist? She should funnel a little of that love for mankind, that agape if you will, her mom's direction! Buy the bitch a new coat, maybe some socks? Maybe just a little...KINDNESS?? Good lord! And what about your trachea? Throw some dollars your esophagus' way before the bile wins out! As Sizzla so eloquently says; Dance a yard before you dance abroad! Shes out there sitting at round tables clinking crystal and letting everyone see who is funding what and the next day throwing up and throwing tantrums in upscale hair salons and treating her moms like a hebrew slave. Do you act like that at Escada? Would Save the Children want someone like that on their board of trustees? Go act crazy with your mama in one of the african villages youre pitchin money at and see how long you last!
And whats more, she didnt look that bad in the picture! She looked kinda...pleasant. Im not kidding! She looked alright, I mean she doesnt have a beautiful face and is so weird that she still looked a little deer in the headlights, but If I didnt know her Id think she was your average prettyish society girl. I was right about the runway chicks being that disgustingly thin, cause she looked just like them. I guess philanthropist is New Yorkese for paying your way into events that your birth class would immediately exclude you from.
You know what this means dont you??? ITS WORKING!!! She is doing it! The blowouts, the starvation, that IS all it takes! You can be totally out of your mind, sleep all day, swear like a sailor with late stage altzheimers and be a total sick dying jerk and rub elbows with the rich and famous. Wait a minute, you can actually BE the rich and famous. Did I just discover that all it takes to be rich is money? I'm a freakin genius! This may be no suprise to anyone who watched the Simple Life but its really something to see before your eyes.
As usual, Im simultaneously catching some late night TV and just cant sign off without mentioning that In Living Color just featured a sketch comedy called "Mitzvah Train: the city's premeire Afro Judaic dating service," it featured damon wayans with peahs and a big black hat and the blonde girl wearing 80's hip hop gear and big gold chains talkin about "You might find you have more in common than you think! Such as slavery and hard to manage hair!" Hilarious.