Friday, May 29, 2009

"Laugh-a while you can. Monkey boy!"


Things people Laugh directly at me for:

1) Locking my door while riding in their vehicle. Or asking them to lock their door while they ride in mine. *

2) Offering to share my sunscreen. **

*If you don't understand the reasoning behind this safety precaution, you may ask my father to explain.
**I'll be the one laughing when you look fifteen years older than I do.

"No, thank you, Mr. Gates."


When a man sits in my chair for a haircut, I immediately place him into one of two categories. 1) I have to worry about him hitting on me and 2) I don't have to worry hitting on me. When (let's call him Ned) Ned walked in and sat down, I put him into category 2, simply because he is at least 35 years old, owns international businesses and is divorced. Basically I felt we were at such different places in our lives, that he would never want to get mixed up with a 20's something girl with two years of college ahead of her, who still wears her retainers to bed.

Which is why I answered honestly when he casually asked me if I was dating anyone. I figured he was asking in an elderly brother type of way, and that when I answered no, he would then offer up some ridiculous advice, or express complete shock at how stupid boys are these days. But instead, he asked if I wanted to go out with him sometime. In my state of complete shock, I stammered, "Uhhhh... oookaaay."

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He left the salon(barely leaving me a tip I might add) with a great haircut, my phone number, and his next appointment booked for two weeks later.

I left with an anxiety attack and perhaps the start of an ulcer.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

But, let me pause here for a moment in order to explain a little problem I have. Yes, I do know that I have a problem. The fact is, that if I am in a situation where I have just been making a guy feel really good about himself, laughing at all of his jokes, smiling, acting interested in the inane boring details of his life etc, it is nigh impossible for me to turn that off in order to reject him. I just can't do it. It would be easier to literally slap him in the face than to say "No, thank you." This is why a man would be very, very cunning to ask me for a second date on the doorstep immediately following the first date. Standing there, having just spent the last couple of hours making him think he is the most amazing person I've ever know, and that our date to the bean museum was purely magical, I would not be able to flip the switch in order to say "No, I don't really want to see you again." This has happened to me before. I went on probably half a dozen dates with one guy before he finally called me up a few days later to ask me out, instead of doing it directly following the date... and then I was able to say, "Sorry, I don't want to go out again." Don't think I'm horrible, okay! I'm working on it.

Well, the haircut situation is the same thing really. I have just spent 20 minutes making a guy feel fabulous (I work for tips, okay?) and asking him all about his three-legged dog, and his lawn-mowing business as if he were Bill Gates, etc. So, if he asks me out...it's just as hard to say "No, thank you." Same thing as the doorstep situation. You see?

Well, back to the story. He texted me about a week later, Monday night. I decided I didn't need to answer it right away. My ulcer grew three sizes. Three hours later I missed a call from him, so he left a message. Should I transcribe it for you? Well, okay.

"Hey Maranda, this is uh (Ned) from the hair salon um ...the guy that you were so shocked that I was asking you out, but you know, I don't see why you'd be surprised, you're a cute girl you know and I'm surprised you don't get asked out all the time. I don't know, maybe I'm the only guy that uh...I guess has the guts to do it. But, uh anyways, I'm totally sorry that I have not gotten in contact with you yet. I've actually been out of town for the past week or two on business and just kinda got back in so I just wanted to give you a call let you know I'd still love to go out, hang out with you, get to know you a bit, talk. Anyways if you'd like to talk, feel free to give me a call. I'm generally up till 2:30 in the morning, so you can never call too late so anyways, talk to you later, bye."

Eww, eww, eww. Ulcer growing more.

The next three days I go back and forth between nurturing my stomach ulcer (which is now the size of Texas) and simply forgetting that he exists.

Yesterday I show up to work, glance at my appointment books, and realize the fafteful day of his haircut appointment is upon me. There's his name, right there, "Ned, H/C 8:30 pm."

It is common courtesy to call the clients who have pre-booked to remind them about their appointments. It helps them remember to come, and keeps the stylists from standing around waiting and losing money on the one's who forget to come... win/win situation. So, what should I do? Should I call to remind him to come, when deep down I just want him to forget all about it, and all about me, and all about the fact that he even has hair that needs to be cut?

I decided I should call.
Ring... ulcer grows.
Ring..ulcer grumbles.
Ring...

"We're sorry, the number you have dialed is out of service. Please check the number and dial again, or dial ### for assistance."

"YESSSSS!!!!"

Haha! I tried! Now I'm in the clear! He doesn't get a reminder... and if he happens to show, I can still say I tried to call. Whew!

Three minutes later, as I'm washing someone's hair out in the shampoo bowl, my pocket buzzes. It's Ned, calling me back. He leaves an accidental message. Hmmmm. His appointment is in a half hour. I decide to just wait and see him when he comes in.

My poor co-worker, Danica, could tell how nervous I was. I was about to puke.

8:30 rolls around. I glance at everyone who walks past the salon storefront, sure that the next pair of sneakers is him.

8:35...still not here.

8:40... is it too good to be true? Will he not show up?!

8:45... this is the usual cut-off time. If you show up 15 minutes late we don't have to take you. So, whew... but really even if I can't cut his hair he could technically still show and then I would have to face talking to him....

8:50... I'm safe! really, if he hasn't shown by now, then he's not coming. Yay!

So, that is how I avoided confrontation yet again. But I'm sure this story is not over with. More to follow...

Sunday, May 24, 2009

It wasn't a hoax, folks!



Survey # 1
I passed around a sheet of paper during sunday school hour of church (I'm a bad, disruptive, irreverent person I suppose), and was eager to see if anyone but myself knew who Michael Collins was. No one did. But their responses (and additions to the survey) were fabulous.

The heading read: Which of these three men is your favorite astronaut?
Neil Armstrong
Buzz Aldrin
Michael Collins

The results were as follows.
Neil Armstong XX
Buzz Aldrin XX
Michael Collins X (this was mine; Collins IS the best astronaut)

Then Paul mentioned changing 'Michael' to 'Phil', and said then he'd get Paul's vote. Natalie asked if Buzz Aldrin was actually Buzz Lightyear and if I had somehow made a typo. The answer was no.

Then written in was:
Tom Hanks X

Ben Afleck X
David Bowie XXXX (all made by Will)

There you have it, America's Favorite Astronaut (as determined by a simple random sample of the population; at least I assume everyone surveyed was American) is DAVID BOWIE!