(Ba dump bump!) Nothing like a bad pun to start the weekend!
When I'm feeling prosperous, I get my hair done at Beehive Hair Company . The ladies there are SO good, and I love them personally as well. Nothing like hanging out with girlfriends who can make you beautiful! Beth once did such a fabulous job on my highlights, I swear it took ten years off my head... Katy obliged me with red stripes for the holidays. Good people, those.
Currently, alas, I'm not feeling as wealthy. Consequently, I'm doing my own hair. Not such a tragedy, as I did go to school for that, and have been known to be clever with the scissors and bottle, but today was a little different. I found a semi-permanent brand that I like to use, on a half off sale, at a drug store that's going out of business. (This was probably where I made my error!) This morning, my plan was to very quickly apply it before my morning shower, and then go about my business for the day.
Mixing the solution, I noticed that the peroxide was looking a little wobbly- not as thick as I'm used to. No matter, I plunged ahead, and as I applied the first line of color to my hair, the bottle made a rather unpleasant creaking sound, a sound like old plastic. I had my trepidations, but what could I do at that point? I had a stripe of color on my hair already. I gave the bottle a tentative second squeeze, and... KABLAMMO!
Yes, folks, the bottle exploded! Haircolor on the walls, the mirror, the sink, the toothbrushes- picture me, if you will, scraping haircolor off the wall and applying it with my fingers. I am not even kidding! As I scraped it carefully off the instruction paper that came with the color, I noticed a coupon on the back, that expired in 2008. Excellent!
All's well that ends well, right? And the color is fine, my gray is successfully covered, all is right with the world. As I was feverishly scrubbing brown drippy goo off every surface of my bathroom, Small One came in to check out the commotion. I explained to her what had happened, and she pointed to a spot on my chest, asking if it was haircolor.
I told her no, I didn't actually need to clean that off, it's a mole. She visibly brightened. "Thumbelina knew a mole," she said, "and he wanted to marry her!"