I don’t mean to overstimulate you this early in the post, but I’ve just tried new shampoo and conditioner.
I’m in a few June-hair support groups on Facebook, and women are forever showing up there with flawless curls listing all the things they used in it while I read from under my head of Phil Spector hair. “Kinky-Curly” comes up a lot, and what I’m looking forward to are the new dirty things men Google that will show up in my “how people found your blog” info.
I say men because I assume it’s men. The only times I Google dirty things are to giggle at them with other women, because I’m 11. My maturity is turned up to 11. Dubly.
Before I get lost in Spinal Tap jokes, I’ll go back to my hair. I’d show you before and afters of how my hair looks wet while beginning this post and then how it’s drying at the end, but unless I wrote for four hours, my hair would not look any different. I get to work before most people, which is good because several days a week I have wet hair, and nothing says climb my corporate ladder like wet hair. If I dry it I’m extra Phil Spector.
By the time others get there it just kind of looks like maybe I overdid it with the gel. I’m certain that’s how Barbara Walters’ hair looked halfway into the first segment of the Today Show.
I like how my only reference for a professional woman is Barbara Walters. If I were a fruit I’d be currant.
Anyway, I’ll check back in with you tomorrow for a full report on how I enjoyed the Kinky Curly. Hello, pervy men. Sorry you landed on a middle-aged cat woman’s page, but I’m certain the idea of Barbara Walters got your motor runnin’.
In other news, today is Black Label’s last day here. He most def weighs more than 2 pounds now, so he has to go back to the shelter where they neuter his ass and then place him on the sales floor, where I am convinced he will be swooped up toot suite.
If anyone here is interested in him, say the word and I will help you get him, even if I have to drive four hours to meet you halfway or something. I’m invested in him now.
Each time I do this, I feel a combination of great sadness and relief, because it’s a lot, raising a kitten. It’s even more raising a whole passel of them, as I usually do. But I grow attached to them, even the unfriendly ones, which this one is not. He purrs as soon as you pick him up.
Oh, I will miss his shadowy self.
In other other news, last night I introduced The Other Copy Editor, fmr., to The Current Other Copy Editor, crnt., and I like the redundancy of that name, especially for a copy editor. In short, and when am I ever in short, the woman on the left used to have to sit right behind me and copy edit, and the woman on the right currently has to do the same. I figured they needed a support group, like my June-hair groups.
TOCE, fmr., owns that bed and breakfast I am forever going to, and they have wine nights some Wednesdays, which are lovely, so we partook. There was a band, and pizza, and old men giving me the eye, and I guess that’s my demographic now. I’m the Ann-Margret of Greensboro.
Pfft. I wish. But remember how they had her in that movie with Walter Matthau and Jack Citrus or whatever his name was? She moved in next door to them, like that just happens. Oh, look, a spectacular older woman just moved in. That’s probably what all my neighbors said when my truck pulled up here. Wow, is that Ann-Amrgret?
I’d better put clothes on and attend work. Milhous and Blackie Parrish are wrestling behind me. My neighbor’s chicken or whatever is crowing. My hair is wet and will be till 11:00. Yep. Everything’s in order.