We have an exciting day of drama and suspense, for my new shampoo and conditioner arrived!
I just heard all of America scooting their chairs closer. I like how in my mind you’re all at your desktop computers, when probably most of you are on your phone. I’m sure my stats tell me, but stats. Zzzzz. Write in today and tell me if you’re reading on a phone or a desktop or you’re one of the four people who has a tablet.
But I digress. NEW SHAMPOO.
For years now, I’ve used the Deva Curl line of products, because with all this hair I’ve embraced the Curly Girl method, which I’m getting sick of. I think age has made my hair less curly, so every day I’m using these curl-embracing products and scrunching out the crunch and drying my head with a t-shirt instead of a towel and sitting here under a Laila Ali bonnet with ionic something-or-others and?
I mean, I want COILS of SPROINGY curls, and I get sort of half-exhausted curls, like they just ran a 10K. So why am I bothering so much?
To be fair, my hair before Curly Girl was this:
Anyway, during my recent trip to Michigan, I was GOING to pump some of my $11,000 Deva Curl conditioner and shampoo into those travel bottles, but I rushed so I just put the giant tubs in my suitcase, and?
Left them at the hotel on the way there.
I CALLED the hotel less than 24 hours later. “Oh, yes, ma’am, we sure did find those. We throw away toiletries, though.”
Someone in West Virginia, who may or may not work in hotels, has delightful curls now. I’m going to write it off as a charitable donation.
So I knew I was gonna have to buy more of my $11,000 Deva Curl products, and you know how your phone is listening to you now? You know how you’ll say to your friend, “I’m really interested in Sparklefraffle,” and next thing you know old Jed’s a millionaire and also your phone is advertising Sparklefraffle to you?
I immediately got an Instagram ad for shampoo.
And not just ANY shampoo! INDIVIDUALIZED shampoo. Which I keep typing shamppp and I’m like that one Real Housewife who keeps calling champagne “champs” and I want to punch her directly in the face.
It was right up my alley. You take a quiz about your hair, [True/False: You have hair.] and then it COMES UP with a formula JUST FOR YOU. I even got to pick the scent, which I hemmed and hawed about endlessly. They describe their original scent as “powdery,” and if there’s anything I don’t want in this world, it’s to smell powdery. Say, who changed a diaper? I’d like to bang the woman who smells like a diaper!
I can’t wait to see the searches that now will bring people here. Of course, that would involve me looking at m’stats, which, zzzzz. Did I mention?
I told my rather no-nonsense coworker, Lottie Blanco, that my personalized haircare was coming yesterday.
“Your what?” Her wife sends me leftovers sometimes, and yesterday I got chicken pot pie, and that is why June ate lunch at 11:11 yesterday. Who could just WORK knowing HOMEMADE POT PIE was waiting? Who?
I told Lottie Blanco all about filling out the form about m’hair, and how somewhere in Brooklyn a bearded hipster, probably a woman, was creating my individualized formula and it was ON ITS WAY to me for a million dollars.
I forget how much this all was. It was either $60 or $80. I know that sounds exorbitant, but when I buy my Deva products, I can spend more than $100. Those large tubs last me for months, though, and this product claims it will, too.
“Call me when this gets here,” said Lottie Blanco, who probably uses whatever’s on sale at the grocery store for shampoo. IN MY DEFENSE, Lottie Blanco has normal-person straight-ish hair.
IF ANYONE IS EXPECTING A PACKAGE FROM PROSE HAIRCARE, ALERT THE MAILROOM, came the email from the, you know, mailroom.
Lottie Blanco said she was tempted to call and tell them whose it was herself.
The mailroom guy, who is fairly beleaguered because y’all send me gifts at work probably once a month minimum, and he really doesn’t know why strangers send me things, came up with m’box.
“But this says June Gardens on it,” he said, and really the more you try to explain it, the weirder you sound, and the good news is, Lottie Blanco had already arrived like Endora used to, just popping up out of nowhere.
I got shampoo, a mask for my Kabuki theater and also conditioner.
“Oh, I forgot to smell it,” I said. “They had a bunch of choices and I finally went with Tropical.”
I opened the mask. Smelled it.
It smells precisely like an old lady.
“This smells precisely like an old lady,” I announced to the now-growing crowd who’d come over to see my new shampoo. It was much like the birth of Jesus. Cattle were lowing. I handed the mask to one of the shepherds for sniffing. “Oh, it really does.”
“I like it,” said Lottie Blanco. “I mean, I like old-lady scent. Don’t you like that?”
I do when I want to nostalgically recall gramma’s vanity, but not ON MY HEAD ALLA TIME.
Today I burst out of bed, knowing it was time to use my new products. Maybe you get out of bed to embrace life wholeheartedly, and if you do, why on earth are you here on World’s Most Cynical Blog? But today I had purpose.
They wanted me to wet my hair, apply the mask and wait 30 minutes.
WHO HAS THAT KIND OF TIME?
I just heard all 10 of you say, “I feel like YOU have that kind of time, June.”
I think people think I have nothing but time. A friend from work asked me to cat-sit for her while she’s on vacation this week, and it’s 40 MINUTES there and back, plus of course I would never just go in and throw food in a bowl and leave. Then I had to go home, feed my own pets, let the dog out, play fetch with him till my arm falls off, feed myself, do some laundry and then, oh! It’s time for bed. A full-time-job single person with 29 pets doesn’t have 30-minute mask time.
I’ll probably do the mask Sunday, because on Sunday? I have time. Even though a neighbor keeps wanting me to go to church with her, and eventually Ima have to let her know I’m a heathen. I just keep putting off what I know will be her disappointed look.
So instead I just used the shampoo and conditioner. It said to use four pumps of each.
Four pumps? That’s it? What am I, having sex in high school? But they told me four pumps so I pumped four pumps. Then I put it under Laila Ali for as long as I could, and while it’s still damp, here it is: