As I type this, I feel my anger being vented on the keyboard. Y'see, I'm going out tonight for my good friend Nic Nac's birthday. And since money is tight, I was gonna do my hair myself, even though I adore getting blow dries (careful!). But at the last minute I decided I didn't have the energy to do it myself and off I popped to the local hairdresser. Now I've been once before and I HATED what she did to my hair. All pouffey and big done with rollers from one of those wheely black tray thingies they use for pensioners. So why did I go back there when every pore in my body was screaming not to. My internal alarm is sooooooo spot on most of the time and it was ringing off the hook. Still, I went in and I figured she had to do a better job than me. HARDLY! She blow dried it with what looked like a comb and pouffed it out again. Still, I thought I'd lash the GHD over it when I got home. But NO, she ruined it for me, by putting an industrial size glob of serum on the roots of my hair...not on the ends where it was made to go but on my freshly washed roots and then proceeded to run her greasy hands through the rest of my gorgeously clean hair. AGHHHHHHHHHHH!! I was sitting in my chair and I had that expression on my face, y'know the one where you're not happy but trying to look happy. Why do us Irish do that? Why can't we be like the French and stand up and vent our unhappiness and throw a wobbler, refuse to pay and walk out in an arrogant huff? Nope, not us Irish. Not only did I say I liked it, I gushed about how much I liked it. WTF??!
Anyway, I've an hour to get ready now. Nothing I can do about the hair. I'll just have to wear extra sparkly eyeshadow to draw attention away from it. Moral of the story girls.....NEVER go to a hairdressers above a butchers, newsagents, off licence etc!
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