Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Why the first cut is the deepest…

I was attacked by my hairdresser. I was butchered and left for dead. It taught me a very valuable lesson: don’t insult your hairdresser. Ever. No matter how rude and obnoxious she is. Unless you are fully prepared to throw off the gown and walk out the door, you'll have to grin and bear it. I pissed my hairdresser off and paid a terrible price.

Here's what happened. I was a bit annoyed because my hairdresser spent an unholy amount of time discussing her nails with her previous customer, even though it was well into my time slot. And then she spent some more time discussing purses and where to buy them. And then she went back to discussing her nails, this time focusing more on the age-old mystery of whether it was better to visit a nail salon or to have someone come over to her house. When her nails had finally been discussed to death, she said farewell to her previous customer, and disappeared to the back of the salon.

I let go of my anger. I decided that this girl was not actually supposed to be cutting my hair. I wasn’t sure which of the girls had been allocated to my head, so I’d mistakenly assumed it was her. Silly me. My hairdresser was one of the other girls. A nice, friendly girl who had obviously been detained through no fault of her own.

It felt good to relax and not have to feel taken advantage of.

However, moments later, the nail-girl returned from the back and leisurely pushed her trolley towards me. As she passed, she said 'Hi!'. But she said it in a manner that seemed to suggest she’d only just noticed me, and was surprised to find me waiting. Even though I should have been done by then.

So I gave her a cold shrug. A kind of 'Hi yourself, I'm sure you're not my hairdresser because no sane person would have kept me waiting this long while she discussed her nails with a customer who had already paid up and was standing in the doorway to leave anyway' - shrug. This was not actually a very complicated shrug. As it turns out, it takes surprisingly little effort to convey all that in a single shrug.

Anyway, long story short, I was a little cold to my hairdresser. Way to stand up for myself, I know. I didn't put her in her place. I didn’t call the manager. I didn’t even pee on her shoes. Not a drop! I was merely a little cold. But, it was enough. Oh yes. She attacked my hair like a mad woman, left me with very little to play with. I look like the victim of some new and frightful disease.

I would have stopped her, but there really was no point. After that first cut, which was of course the deepest, she had to keep going. You can’t put anything back so I had no option but to let her at least even it all out. I closed my eyes and prayed there would be something left when I opened them. There was, but it looked terrible. I should show you. I really should. Then we could be outraged together. Sadly, my camera is broken.


It doesn't take pictures anymore. And probably won't for the next 3 to 4 weeks …

Monday, January 3, 2011

Free Novella to start 2011 off on the wrong foot!

Blurb: Gomez' life continues to crumble towards insanity after the events chronicled in "No Hope for Gomez!". Clinical studies have shown that reading this spin-off novella is likely to make you more attractive to the opposite sex and elevate your random luck by about 9.5%**

(** These statements have not been evaluated by any person of consequence!)

Everyone who subscribes to this blog by email will receive a copy of 'Random Acts of Senseless Kindness.'

Random Acts of Senseless Kindness

A Novella by Graham Parke

Blog entry: Arrived at the store late, found a homeless guy sleeping in the doorway. Hicks was already inside but gave no indication he’d noticed. I nudged the homeless guy and asked, “How are you doing down there, fellow? You okay?”

The homeless guy grumbled something in his sleep.

“It’s getting pretty cold,” I said. “Don’t you want to come inside?”

“Inside?” He coughed and opened his eyes.

I pointed out the store, not convinced he’d actually noticed where he’d crashed the night before. “This is my antiques store,” I told him. “We’ve got the heating on inside, shame to waste it on just two people. And it looks like it might start to snow soon.”

The homeless guy gave me a suspicious look. “You want me to come inside? With you?”

“Sure, if you’d like.”

“Is that because you think that if I come inside with you, I’ll let you touch me?”

“What? No!”

“Okay, because I can tell you right now, that’s not gonna happen.”

“Well, I suppose it is good to get those kinds of things clear beforehand. But no, I was just thinking you might enjoy the warmth, maybe a cup of coco.”

“A cup of coco you say…” He scratched his stubble. “And you’ll be charging me for this cup of coco?”

“No, the coco is free.”

“I see. So, are you operating under the assumption that if I come inside with you, and I drink your free coco, that I will touch you?”

“What? No!”

“Okay, because I can tell you right now, that’s not gonna happen either. Just because a guy is down on his luck, that doesn’t mean he goes around touching people in exchange for cups of coco.”

“I understand completely. And thanks again for pointing that out. But no, my friend and I noticed that you were sleeping in our doorway and, well, we’d like to invite you inside.”

The homeless guy turned and peered through the window in the door. He made eye-contact with Hicks, who panicked and went looking for his broom. “That your friend?”

I followed his gaze. “Yeah, that’s Hicks. He’s a bit peculiar, but he’s okay.”

“I see.” The homeless guy pulled on his collar. “And this friend of yours, will he be drinking coco also?”

“I suppose. I’m not entirely sure, but it seems likely.”

“I see.” The homeless guy considered this. “So,” he said, after a long moment, “will this friend of yours be expecting me to touch him?”

“No! There is no touching involved in any of this!”

“Okay, calm down,” the homeless guy said. “There’s no need to get all homophobic!”

“I wasn’t!”

“You sounded homophobic to me.”

“Me? You’re the one who can’t stop talking about touching people!”

I noticed people stopping in the street to stare at us. This made me very uncomfortable.

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