Friday, November 16, 2007

Hair Traumas

Who doesn't get out of adolescence without giving themselves a haircut? Who succumbs to giving themselves a haircut as an adult?

I 'd venture to guess that just about everybody out there cuts their own hair as a kid. I cut my bangs because I hated my new chin-length haircut. I wanted it "cut long." I look sad in all the Easter pictures that year and I'm pretty sure it was because I looked like a goon, but I don't really remember. But I haven't forgotten that a girl never gets over a bad haircut.

I got my most recent horrendously bad cut within two months of moving to New York. I didn't know where to go, and I chose an expensive place because I figured that would be safe. I was wrong and have only been getting my haircut when I go home to DC.

But that still wasn't as bad as the time I let my friend cut my hair freshman year of college. My friends said I looked like a wedding cake and a Christmas tree, but claimed it looked good. Liars.

I haven't had a cut since March , so it's split-ended like crazy.

In the summer, I got away with the messy, I just rolled out of bed, jumped in the shower, put some product in my hair and let the humidity make crazy look. And it sort of worked.

But now it's cold, and I have to dry my hair and it looks superbad—no matter what.

So last week I made myself late to work because I decided to give myself a haircut.

It was a last resort. I had tried to convince my boyfriend—who cuts his own hair and it look good—to cut my hair. But when we were standing in his bathroom, him with his scissors in his hand and me telling him to "just trim the ends and oh I should wet my hair first," he decided it was a bad idea. Probably a smart decision on his part.

At first I thought my self-cut look wasn't so bad. No Nick Arrojo look, but definitely better.

But today…I realized that I can't get away with such a stunt and I just can't freaking wait for my free Bumble and Bumble haircut in two weeks.

Vogue...Vogue...Vogue: There's Nothing to it, Just Strike

Striking is so en vogue, so hot right now. First the Writers Guild, then the Broadway stagehands, this week, all week Aramark workers have been striking on Park Avenue, just around the corner from my office.

I didn’t even know who they were until I purposely walked by them this morning. And I only just googled (completely different thought: should that be a capitalized verb? And do any capitalized verbs exist in the English language?) Aramark and according to its website, “global leader in professional services, providing award-winning food, hospitality, facility management services and high-quality uniform and work apparel.” Ooooh fancy. Not only that, but “Aramark Recycles!” And the 2007 FORTUNE 500 survey ranked Aramark first in its industry. So if this company is soooo great, why are these workers striking? I probably won’t ever figure that out, I just hope the conflict is resolved before Thanksgiving because I’d rather not come back to the chanting.

But if the guy who wears a feather hat and makes clucking (chicken) noises wants to come buy again, I’d welcome him back to our corner. That’s entertainment.

Monday, November 12, 2007

So Three Kids Walk into a Bar…

… dressed as midget versions of their favorite “adults”— Snow White, Batman—and their mom, or nanny, is chilling in the doorway with a stroller.


It’s Halloween at a bar in New York City.

I’m at happy hour with my co-workers, drinking some Sam Adams Oktoberfest, and while I knew kids hit up local businesses for candy in the city, I was surprised to see that some grown-ups are cool with letting kids trick-or-treat at a bar.

The Artica bartenders seemed to have the same feeling as they didn’t have any candy. The first group of kids were offered “their first beer” (a bottle of Miller Lite, which I believe was the first beer I ever tasted at 4-years-old), and ultimately the bartender gave the little girl quarters.

And then another pack showed up—middle school kids. The bartender told them they had no candy, but to come back in 10 minutes. Had the bartender offered those kids a beer, they probably would have tried to take it. Well, that’s what I would have done at that age.