A Rerun from Liz

I'm reposting my very first blog post ever- but for a reason. The reason will be summed up in a future posting. It's like a cliffhanger.

I hate cliffhangers. Sorry.


Wednesday, January 18, 2006

The Generous Hairdresser

I have decided to make my first blog entry about my hairdresser because I find this story hysterical and everyone else I've shared it with has been violently disgusted. You be the judge.

Last night my drug-addict hair dresser told me that she’s JUST (as in yesterday) gotten out of the local mental institution where she did a 28 day stint at rehab. She always gives me these updates on the men in her life. About 6 months ago she was on a “tour” of sleeping with all of her ex-boyfriend’s best pals as a method of revenge on him for cheating on her. Classy. Next came a Vietnam Vet who lived with her in a motel for a little while before being able to score a FEMA trailer after a hurricane destroyed the home he never lived in, owned, or rented but was able to somehow claim. Currently she is sleeping with a younger guitar player who looks like Napoleon Dynamite but is physically “gifted” in ways that might not be obvious to the causal observer. She is struggling because she loves to be loved by him, but she finds him slightly repulsive to look at AND he has an obnoxious laugh.

Now, I LIKE this chick. She is TRASHY but she cracks me up. I wouldn’t trust her alone in my house- hell, I don’t even want her to know where I live- but I really dig her quick wit and hilarious spin on things. She’s asking me what to do about Napoleon (maybe I should call him "Dynamite") so I ask questions- getting a sense of the guy. IS he a good man? How close, exactly, is he to too ugly to screw? I mean, for some people they’ll hump anything that can’t outrun them and I’m thinking she might be like that, you know? She keeps going back to the fact that his "member" is so big they need to make a plaster mould out of it and display it. I’m trying to move beyond the anatomy and get to the “meat” of the issue. (Really, no pun intended).

Then it happens:My hair dresser, who told me that at one time she HAD hepatitis, my hair dresser, who has willingly disclosed that she’s sleeping on the couch at her youngest daughter’s boyfriend’s mother’s house (who, incidentally has a gambling problem), my hairdresser whose oldest daughter is in prison for federal burglary, my 42 year-old hairdresser who once told me that 3 years ago she had a one-night stand with a boy so young that she had to DRIVE HIM HOME the next day and they passed his mom WHO WAS RIDING AROUND IN HER SUBURBAN LOOKING FOR HER SON WHO MISSED CURFEW (he ducked down in the passenger’s seat but was still spotted by his mother) THIS hairdresser offered up Napoleon to ME for a free sample!!! I can’t HAVE him all the time, but if I want to see why it’s such a hard decision, I’m free to ask for the hookup and she’s willing to provide. We can share him, because, to quote her, “This stuff is too good for just one woman. You deserve a treat!”

OH MY GOD.

Although flattered (?), I am mortified!!! Do you think this was a 3-way invite or just extreme generosity? Is a sex partner really the type of thing you want a first-hand second opinion on? Once you have Hepatitis does it really go away?

I left the salon with MUCH lighter hair than intended due to the rambling story of Napoleon, but with a tale that I consider the perfect example of microblogology.