A Life Askew

Bumbling Through One Day At A Time

A Cut Above the Rest

Just over a week ago, I posted about my very bad, terrible, no good day.  Well, my unlucky day anyhow.  The day when I got the awful hair cut.

This post is about how that actually turned out.  Which was pretty bad.

See? It didn’t look so bad….

This is what I had to work with, and it wasn’t soo bad.  Well, that’s what I thought, until I found this….

What can I say that the picture doesn’t?

I couldn’t believe how uneven it was!!  I mean, I knew she was probably a little off, but sheesh!!  And because my hair is so curly, it wasn’t very noticeable until I’d straightened it.  Which was about the only way I could make it look alright.

Now it obviously needed fixing.  And I obviously needed my money back for the first cut.

I had to be back in Craig for the circus a few days later, so I called another place (All About You-They rock there!!) and set up an appointment with them.  (The place is co-owned by a gal I was in high-school with and she actually knows how to cut curly hair.)

Before I went there I figured I’d go by the first shop (cough*Studio 7*cough) and get my money back while my  head was still all screwed up, you know, so they couldn’t accuse my of buyer’s remorse.

I caught the owner (yes, the OWNER) outside and told her what happened, and showed her the obvious problem.  She brushed me off and sent me inside to deal with it myself.  I’ll come back to that point.

So, I go inside to talk to the girl who cut my hair.  Her and the other stylist are standing together at the desk.

Now, let me say this, I really don’t want to be mean.  I know she’s inexperienced and it wasn’t her fault they scheduled her to do my hair.

That said, as nicely as I can, I explain I need my money returned.  And what do I get for my efforts?  The other stylist is glaring at me and the girl that cut my hair is asking me what she did wrong.  So I show her.  Her response is, “If you just tell me how I can fix it…”

I have two problems with this response.

A. She’s not touching my head again, not for all the tea in China.

B. If I knew how to fix it, why would I have to go to a professional to get my hair cut?  I mean, if I can tell someone how, exactly, to cut my hair, then why not stay home and walk my boyfriend through it?  (Which might have worked out better.)

Still, I’m trying to be nice, but my blood pressure is climbing, and I can feel it.  I tell her that I really don’t want her to fix it.  That, in fact, that isn’t an option at all.  I just want my money returned to me.  That’s it.  And of course, she has to continue to press the issue.  “Why don’t you want me to fix it?” she asks.  Why indeed?  Because you’re a twit!!!!!  Okay, that’s not what I said, and it’s considerably nicer than what I was thinking.  I had to, patiently (and while twitching), explain that she simply wasn’t experienced enough to cut my hair.  End of story.  Remember the other stylist?  Darts are shooting out of her eyes, maybe flame throwers.  Because, after all, I’m the bad guy here.

Finally, she agrees to give me my money back, but another problem, the salon doesn’t have the money.  (Deep breaths)

No, they haven’t gone to the bank yet, but if I want to sit there (with the evilly glaring stylist) and wait, she’d be glad to go make change.

That was it.  Last straw.  I mean, are you flippin’ kidding me?  Aside from the fact that I have other places to be, I’ve been put out enough by these ridiculous women.  Not as kindly as I’d been to this point, I tell them to keep their stupid money because it’s simply not worth $25 to spend another minute in their stupid shop.

Which brings me back to the owner.  Who the hell would do that with their business?  While we were getting our hair cut she was asking everyone to vote them the best place in Craig, Co.  So, I mean, it looks like she cares, maybe a little.  But it certainly doesn’t when she leaves her unhappy customers to fend for themselves.  She obviously doesn’t give a crap what happens in her store as long as she keep making money.  Which won’t happen if that crap goes on!!!  Gah!!!  I’m not sure if I’m more bothered that I got bad service or that she just doesn’t care in general.  I mean, if you don’t give a shit, close the doors!!!!

So, yeah, I was ready to blow when I got in my car to leave.  Which set me up for my appointment to get my hair fixed.

I think I was actually shaking when I walked in.

Which was an entirely opposite experience from walking into the first place.  In fact, just looking around inspired confidence.  The fact that the stylist was happy to see me helped a lot too.  The fact that I showed her the most visible problem and she responded with, “What the f-ck did she do to your head?”  brightened my day so much so that it felt like the clouds had just parted and the sun was shining brighter.  Finally, someone gave a damn!!

As the hair cut went on we giggled about the silly music we listened to in high school (I still like the Spice Girls, and I ain’t ashamed to admit it!!), talked about good lookin’ guys and ranted and raved about my terrible, awful, very bad, no good hair cut.  She showed me what she was doing every step of the way and showed me all the things she was fixing.  And explained why she was doing what she was doing.  And my favorite part, she swore like a drunken sailor every time she moved to a new section of my hair and found how completely uneven it was every where.  I’ve never had more fun getting my hair cut. 🙂  Then, she styles my hair.  Then she teaches me how to style my hair (which was fabulous).  Then we get all done, and she notices the floor behind me.

I drew a line to show where the chair centered while I was getting my hair cut.


It’s kind of hard to see, but the left side has a few little fluffs of hair while the right it’s piling up higher and higher.  When it was all said and done, the right side was about 1in.- 1 1/2in. longer all the way around.  I just thought the visual was hilarious.

I left with fabulous hair (that I don’t have a picture of yet… ) and feeling great.  It’s amazing what a difference 1 1/2in can make eh?

I’m glad that it’s over now and I can sit back and laugh instead of want to stab things.  I also learned a lesson here, patience will help.  If I hadn’t been in a rush to get an appointment, I’d have gone some where better.  Next time, I’ll wait. 🙂

Oh!  And my luck seems to have taken a turn for the better!  Last weekend I caught the bouquet at a wedding, where my boyfriend was best man.  Things are looking good!!!


Incessantly Unlucky

Today was an adventure.

It didn’t set out to be.  In fact, it was supposed to be quite the opposite, but, apparently, that is not to be where I am involved.

The plan was to meet up with my sister, childless, and we were going to go get our hair done and go out to a nice lunch.  Basically pretend we’re civilized humans.

So, my boyfriend, child and I set out this morning at 10am so that I will be at my mom’s to meet my sister at 11:30am (we live an hour away).  Not quite a mile out of town we have to turn around to grab the forgotten movies that have to be returned.  Once we have them and get back on the road, things go pretty good.  We get into town at 11am and are supposed to meet my brother at the park so he and my boyfriend can hang out while I’m busy.  He’s late.  I call at 11:20am and he says he’s not even left home yet.  Grr.  Ten minutes later he shows up and I run like a mad woman to meet my sister.  And what happens?  The guy in front of me wants to go 10 mph slower than the posted speed limit.  Grrrr.

So fast forward, I make it in time to pick up my sister and make it to the salon with seconds to spare.  In we go and they’re not very busy.  Yay!  So, we talk to the lady and she tells us to take a seat while we wait for the stylist to finish up with her current customer (there are other stylists that are not busy).  So, we sit.  And I’m watching a little (okay, I was tormenting my sister) and notice the girl who’s to be doing our hair has kind of, well, dull looking hair.  It’s colored, but she hasn’t done anything with it.  Hmmm.  Well, it’s our turn and I let my sister go first (which would have given her a heart attack if she hadn’t been noticing the stylist’s hair as well).  My sister has really long, really curly, really crazy hair so the hair cut took a while.  Which gave me ample time to watch the stylist and wonder if she really knows what she’s doing.  She had some issues getting the lengths even on both sides and, I think, the owner came over and had to show her something.

Now, I’m not an expert, or I wouldn’t need to have someone else do it, but this seemed a little odd to me.  Well, eventually my sister’s hair is done, and it looks nice.  So my fears are put to rest, for a little bit.

It’s my turn now.  I am a little nervous, but I’m also getting most of my hair chopped off too, so that isn’t helping.  While she’s cutting my hair, it feels, well, weird.  She’s sectioning my hair weird and had to ask me where my part was.  Well, had to have me part it for her.  She gets it all cut to the right length and then can’t figure out how to even the sides on front.  Hmmm.  Instead of pulling the hair forward and clipping it even, she stands behind me, takes the two front sections of hair between her fingers in each hand and closes her eyes and slowly runs her fingers to the ends.

“Hmm, they FEEL the same, but they sure don’t look even.  That’s odd, I’ve never seen that before.”


I explained they were uneven, which one was longer and she finally got them even.  The rest of the layers went a little more smoothly, but were painstaking because she didn’t understand the lengths they were supposed to be.  I had to repeat it over and over and then show her over and over.  Which, I guess isn’t terrible, but, I had a picture for her to go from…..

Anyhow, the hair cut turned out okay.  (I think.  I’m still messing around with it.  We shall see.)  We left, commenting once in the car about our shared discomfort.  If I’d known my sister felt the same, we probably would have gone somewhere else.

Regardless, we get in the car and I think, “Coffee!!  Coffee will make us feel better!!”  Off to McDonald’s we go.  We get to the speaker to order and we order vanilla iced coffee and a carmel mocha iced latte.  I am told, “We don’t have carmel mocha lattes.  But you could get a mocha with carmel.”  If you don’t know, a mocha is a latte with chocolate.  Thus making a mocha with carmel also a carmel mocha latte.  My sister looked at me in disbelief and started laughing.  I griped that I deserved a break after being terrified for so long about my hair.  Oh well, the coffee was awesome, so off we went to pick up lunch and go to the park.

On the way, I’m telling my sister that 90% of the time that I go out stupid things happen, like the hair cuts, or the silly order taker at McDonalds.  We laugh and decide to go to Taco Bell.  We ordered a chicken quesadilla and a nacho belle grande with double meat and double cheese.  The quesadilla is hers.  We get to the window, and wait, and wait, and when they open it, the manager asks if I would mind getting two nacho supremes, he accidentally put it in as a supreme instead of a belle grande.  More over, he asked in such a way that it seemed like it was my responsibility to take what they had instead of getting what I clearly asked for.  My sister’s jaw dropped.  I took the food and we left.

After that I quit.  We went to the park to eat and get discovered by none other than the (wonderful and much loved) child and boyfriend that I’m intentionally avoiding.

Which only further proved my point to my sister.

From now on, she’ll be making my hair appointments.  That might fool the fates that torment me so.  Probably not.  I already know that my food will ALWAYS come out wrong, no matter who orders, so I’ve at least accepted that.

At least the coffee was delicious!!  It might have been the only successful part of my day, well, I mean, aside from hanging out with my sister, that was pretty cool, I suppose.



I had time to play with my hair and well…  It’s gonna have to be fixed.  The layers on the crown are neither long enough nor consistent and the bottom layer on my right side is at least an inch longer than on the left.  I WILL be asking for my money back, so let us cross our fingers that I do!

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Things You Can Learn From A 3 Year Old

It’s 11pm and I can’t sleep.

This definitely has nothing to do with the scary book I just finished reading.  Nothing to do with it.

So, as I’m laying in bed, I start thinking (because what else would you do in bed? Sleep? Pssh.) and I realize that my child has taught me a few important life lessons.

I really am tired, just sleepless, so I’m gonna skip the segue and get right to the things I learned.

On a completely unrelated note, walking through a pitch dark entry way to let your dog out into the darkness, out side, is REALLY creepy right after finishing a scary book.

Okay, okay,

Lesson 1:  Don’t sweat the small stuff.

This my terrorist wonderful child has taught me two ways.  The first is learning which battles to pick with her.  Do I want to scream and yell when I see her face is covered in six different colors of marker?  Sure, but I have to save it for when she’s got the dog in a head lock.  The other way she showed me this is one day we were on the interstate driving to my dad’s house and the whole trip I had her pumping her arm up and down trying to get the semi’s to honk their horns.  More than 10 times and not one of them did it.  (Bastards.)  Coupled with interstate traffic and my volatile mild temper, I started getting irritated.  Finally another one didn’t honk and I *might* have yelled (though I’m sure I said it very calmly), “ARGH!!!  What a bastard!!”  To which my darling child says to me, “Momma?  It’s okay.”  And right there, I knew that I let too much get to me.

Lesson 2: Everyone poops, farts and has a butt. 

I grew up where girls didn’t fart or poop and if boys did it you ignored it.  Then I got pregnant and nothing is sacred.  Then I had a sweet little baby and I was a girl again.  THEN I moved in with a guy that taught my sweet little baby to say, “Your turn!” every time she farts.  But yeah, I’ve always been pretty private about any bodily functions, including not blowing my nose around other people.  So having to take my kid with me to the bathroom 90% of the time was a little awkward at first.  Especially public restrooms, where she yells, “Momma!!  You poop!!  Yay!!”  Isn’t potty training awesome?  Anyhow, so the other day we were watching her latest favorite show, The Dinosaur Train, and they were talking about going potty.  The entire point of the episode was that everyone does it so it’s nothing to be ashamed of.  I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything more brilliant, ever.  Now going potty is a normal thing that doesn’t freak me out so much when I have a regular audience.  (That sounds really gross.  I mean when I have to take my kid in there with me.  Heh.)

Lesson 3: Talking cutsie makes you sound stupid.

If you ask my daughter if her food is yummy, she will tell you, “No.  It’s food/dinner/sandwich.”  I knew talking like that around adults made you sound dumb, but when a 3 year old picks up on that too, you’ve gone too far. 😉

And that’s it for tonight folks.  I can’t think of anything else. 🙂  I, totally, thought this would be a lot longer when I sat down to write it.  So, maybe I’ll think of more things when I’m not so tired.  We shall see.


My Kid IS Cute and Other Things

Well, it’s been awhile since I’ve been on here.  To be honest, that people were actually reading this is scary.  I feel like I have to be brilliant to keep writing and that is a hard standard to keep up with.

So, to start, I’m going to do the most annoying thing possible, advertise my child.  And from there, anything else should look great! 🙂

A few days ago I entered a photo of my daughter into a “Cutest Kids Contest” and have been campaigning for her cuteness since.  I figured, I have about 140 friends on my Facebook, all either family or friends and people that I actually know.  That said, I thought these people would automatically want to help out.  The contest started Sat the 5th at 2pm and, so far, we have 16 votes.  16!!!  That’s about 10% of what I was expecting.  So, now it’s turned into a matter of, “What kind of friends are these?!?”  And now it’s time to turn to other alternatives:

Click on the picture and it will take you to the page where you vote.  You have to have Facebook and it makes you agree to another app, but no reason you can’t vote and then delete the app.  The prize is a $500 photo package and the chance to be in their new ads for the year.  It’s not really important, but it would be something cool and special for her for when she’s older.

Anyhow, please help me out.  And I promise I’ll try to write more about more fun things!!!!!

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