The Saga of Pussy Lips

Pussy came in 20 minutes late. LV handbag and Jimmy Choo shoes. God help me. The high maintenance customers are the worst. They come in whenever they want and expect to be the world. Maybe I was wrong I mean I haven't even met her yet, shame on me. My inner voice told me to stop being a bitch and go introduce myself.

Her heels were so high she could barely walk, this was going to be interesting. At the sink in between screaming in to her iPhone..."please make sure you rinse my neck very well, sometimes people don't and then I get a rash then it's just a disaster!" "Sure" I said with a smile. This is the first fucking time I have ever shampooed anyone!!!

In my chair..."okay I need to give you instructions on how to do my hair".  Fuck me.  "First I need height at my roots". News flash every woman I have ever blown out wants height  at the roots the only women who don't, black women!!! We are usually trying to calm that shit down.  "Then I need my hair set in rollers after you blow it out and I have to sit under the dryer for at least 10 minuets".  You guys remember the beginning when I said She was 20 minuets late right??  "Then I have to have the whole thing teased, wait you know how to tease hair right???" Kill me now, please. "Yes".  "Then just lots of spray".  Dear Lord please let this end as quickly as possible and without incident, please.

I start to blow out pussy lips hair.  "It's freezing in here!"  "Your hair is wet, you'll warm up".  " Do you have coffee or tea and can you turn up the heat I know it's only 60* in here!" FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK!!!!!!!!  I stopped got the tea and continued. " My hair needs to be perfect because I'm spending the evening with my favorite and the most important person in the whole wide world, my boyfriend".  Blah.  "I just flew in today to see him, I left my 3yr old son in Miami with my mom".  "We don't see each other often enough work you know".  I know that you have a child and you just said that your boyfriend is the most important person in your world, then again you look like you have a set of pussy lips on your face sooo...

Believe it or not pussy lips loved her hair. I had all confidence in myself, as usual but some people are never happy no matter what. Thank God she was happy especially after all the drama.  I walked her up front,she almost slipped on her high ass shoes and thank goodness she didn't because if you can't walk in the shoes don't fucking wear them.

After being late and a pain in the ass pussy left me a $10 tip a little more than 10%. Yippee!! I hope your lips pop.

Ode To The Company Christmas Party, Fuck That P.C. Shit!

Okay I know the Holidays are over but we just had our Christmas party last week.  Many companies have their Holiday, Christmas or whatever the fuck you want to call it in January. That is much appreciated since December is usually a busy month for most of us.

I have been working for what 24 years and all of the parties that I have ever attended went as follows:
The boss tells you where the party will be. We can bring our spouses. We pick our meals. Get dressed up and go! The party is the chance for your employer to let you know just how much he/she appreciates all of your hard work from the past year. All of my work live that is how it's been, until now.

I work for a company called Game Corp. It is a Hotel/Gaming facility. A multimillion dollar operation. I have been working there for the past 8years.  Now this corporation is made up of many departments, I work of course in the beauty salon. In a normal salon the owner would organize the Holiday party. But at Game Corp the stylists and nail techs are responsible for our own party. Then we usually pay for everything and the managers come, having contributed absofuckinglutely nothing!  For a long time I didn't go to the parties because I felt it was a slap to my face. We organize our own party and those fuckers get to come and reap the benefits of our hard work??? Are you fucking crazy???!!!  We would also give the salon manager (not a stylist by the way) and the director a Christmas present. Thank God that shit has stopped.  The director had the difficult task of taking the salon and spa managers out to dinner, to thank them for doing such a great job at telling us what to do.  I mean how would we ever do highlights without them??  I never had a job where I felt like such an unappreciated piece of shit before and it's always worse at the Holidays, no thank you no nothing.

This year our party was at one of the girls' house. It was great. Just the technicians. I was so happy that none of the managers showed up we were free to be ourselves instead of that awkward "lets pretend that we are all friends except I can fire you anytime I want".

I hope that our party will be the same next year. No fake ass managers, no bullshit, just us hard working technicians. Same time next year, and Fuck The Fuckers!

Django Unchained MUTHAFUCKAS!!!!!!!!

Happy Fucking New Year!!

Sooo this post has nothing to do with hair, except the fros I saw in this movie were awesome! I am a long time fan of Quentin Tarantino and despite the negative controversy I was determined to see it. Slavery is always a touchy subject and I guess I know why but it is a part of our history. Like it or not. Django ranked number 2 at the box office and made 31 million so far. It's amazing to me that it took a white man to make a successful movie about slavery.

As a woman of color I have through the years taken note of movies about slavery. They never seem to do well always apart by critics. Why?? Because it makes people uncomfortable. Are you squirming yet?? Good fucker, squirm. He, He. This movie did not candy coat anything. It was raw and truly showed some of the horrors of that time. Sometimes I watched in girl vision (between my fingers). White people were the bad guys (mostly) and blacks the heroines! Take that hollywood fucks!  Jamie Fox was awesome.

Whenever people start to talk about slavery I hear the same things.  "ohh it's in the past"  and as one of my bosses once said "let sleeping dogs lie". I am so glad that Tarantino had the balls to take on such a forbidden subject. What I do not understand is why are movies about slavery taboo but movies about the holocaust not? That too is a horrible part of history. Over the years I have watched movie upon movie about the holocaust be hailed as epic. I have been waiting for a movie about slavery to do the same. Jews always support holocaust movies so that it is a reminder that it will never happen again. It's a shame blacks can't do the same.

I'll get off my soap box now. And before you call me anti-semitic my husband is Jewish. Well, half Jewish. Peace out.

I'm Me, Damnit!

One of the worst things a stylist hears when a customer sits in their chair is "I want you to do my hair exactly like ______." I only know how to do hair like me, Kate. I have heard so many stories; "my stylist cuts my haie with two pairs of scissors, at the same time.  My stylist blowdrys my hair with two blowdryiers. My stylist does my hair while stalding on one hand while holding the brush, comb, and blowdryer with his feet!"
I've heard it all. Many women go to hairdressers because of the way they make them feel.  Like Fiona.

Fiona was blonde 50ish. She came in for a haircut. Fiona showed me a picture of the cut she got about 10 years ago by a stylist in California. I watched her eyes as she showed me the picture, she looked dreamy almost catatonic. Oh shit this is not going to turn out well I thought. The picture was that of a simple bob, slightly above the sholder. No sweat. We talked I cut she seemed nice. I call these clients the Jekyll/Hyde clients. They start out fine and snap at the end.

I finished the cut and I showed Fiona the finished product. She looked in the mirror and her eyes filled up with tears. Oh God. "It's ruined!!" she screamed. I calmly asked her what was wrong. "It's too long!!" What? Too long well that's an easy fix. Too short no, too long just cut more. "Ohh that's no problem", I tried to reassure her. I'll just take a little more off." "NOOO!" She screamed Fiona went in to complete hysterics. I could not believe what I was seeing, a 50 year old woman having a breakdown over the favct that her hair was not too short but too long something that could be fixed, easily. She stood up leaped from my chair and told me that I ruined her life and went to the front desk to complain.

In hindsight I was glad that she got out of my chair. I am a hairstylist not a psychologist, and once someone looses their shit in my chair I want them gone. They gave Fiona to another stylist who did exactly what I would have done, cut off more hair. Unbelieveable.

I Don't Have Time for This Nervous Breakdown

 I Don’t Have Time for This Nervous Breakdown
I know some of you are thinking this right now with the Holidays approaching.  Some years ago I had the displeasure of watching one of my regular customers have a mental collapse, right before my                                            
 my eyes.  I have spoken to people who believe that they are too strong for that to happen to them.  I believe that we are all three tragedies from losing it.  A person can only take so much.
“Barb” has been coming to me for years.  She has frizzy brown hair that she refuses to let me cut in to a nice style.  Every month she comes in for me to trim her bangs, every two months I trim her ends all around. Dry. No blow out color (she used a box) just a little “trim” here and there.  Barb worked for one of the major cell carriers she had a high level position complete with company car. She would always tell me how stressful her job was.  Barb was always dressed conservatively; buttoned up blouses and a long skirt which is one of the ways I realized something was very wrong with her.  One day she came in very sad, her father had died. She was very close to him, she was heartbroken. 
I didn’t see Barb for a while I knew she had to fly out of town for her dad’s funeral.  When she came back she looked so haggard, awful like she aged 10 years in the past 3 weeks.  Poor thing I felt for her.  She said the service went well and when she came back she lost her job.  Holy fuck!  I asked her what she was going to do and she said she was going to be okay.  But still that’s a lot to take.  
A week later Barb was back, “HI Kate!!” She was jovial so happy it was kind of weird.  Barb was wearing short shorts and a very tight fitting top, very unlike her.  “I want a makeover!!”  “Okay great” I said.  I really didn’t think anything of it, she would be job hunting soon a new look would do her good.  Thank the Lord I could finally give her a nice style I hate box color.  I cut her hair in to some long layers she had long beautiful hair it just needed some help.  I put a few highlights in and covered the grey.  The next week Barb was back, again.  Too soon for any hair service she wanted to buy product.  Her eyes were wild her hair was wild and her arms were covered with bruises.  What the hell?  “Hi Barb, are you okay?”  “Yes! Great!” “I need shampoo and conditioner”.  I told her what to buy she ended up buying $200 in product and hair accessories.  I thought it was a bit strange since she lost her job, also more bruises.  Something was not right I was afraid she was hurting herself.  I wasn’t sure if she had a husband or children, but apparently no one was taking care of her.  When she came back two days later I was scared. “Do you think I need another trim?”   She reeked of alcohol hair not combed.    I asked a few of my colleagues what I should do I was told by multiple sources to stay out of it, but I just couldn’t.   That’s the problem with this business you form relationships with people and it’s weird.  How do you watch someone self-destruct and do nothing??  I had to do something.  “Yes Barb, let’s trim.”  I got her in my chair and got her talking.  She had a brother in Denver who was a partner in a law firm.  Gotcha!  I went home googled his name and found him.  This was the hardest phone call ever what was I going to say?  Hey you don’t know me but I know your sister and she’s kind of having a nervous breakdown?  Well believe it or not that’s exactly what I did.  His name was Alan, I told him I was his sister’s hairdresser and she was in trouble.  I told him I knew about his father’s recent passing that got his attention.  I explained about the wild spending, bruises, alcohol.  He thanked me and said he was coming to take care of her.  I hung up and felt that I did the right thing.
I didn’t see Barb for a long time and I thought she was never coming back.  Then one day, she did.  It was about 6 months later, and she was herself again.  Her hair was pulled back in a clip long skirt blouse.  She didn’t really tell me what happened except that she went away for a while and now she was better.  I don’t think she realized that I called her brother the important thing was she didn’t hurt herself or anyone else she found a new job.  I have since left that shop so I don’t see her anymore but I think of her from time to time and I hope she’s still okay, and in case you’re wondering she went back to that damn box color.  You can’t win em all.

I Know Your Hair Is Fake

                                                             I Know Your Hair Is Fake   
Hair extensions, weaves, clip ins; many of us use these hair enhancements.  But, most women don’t advertise it.  The worst thing you could do aside from walking up to a woman and pulling her hair is asking “is that your real hair?”  Don’t do it, ever.
Enter Maggie a salon regular.  She never gets her hair done only nails.  It’s a shame too because her hair always looks slightly unkempt.  Whenever I see her the phrase “rode hard and put away wet” comes to mind.  She is a bleach blonde around 50ish, but like a 50 I’ve spent my youth drinking and doing lots of drugs.  Her nose is always red, a sign of a hard drinker.  She always gives me a creepy stare. 
One day I was walking past her, she was getting a manicure.  I smiled like I do to all customers that I make eye contact with.  She beckoned me over to her.
“Hi” I said “Hi, I was wondering is that your real hair?”
“Yes” I said thinking you rude little bitch!
“Oh well my boyfriend is black” where the fuck is this going??  “And he says that all black women have fake hair.”  WOW!
“Really?”  “Yes, he really hates black women he only likes blondes like me.”  I could see she was trying to offend me but I could give two shits about her boyfriend or what he thinks.
“I think your boyfriend needs therapy” She just looked at me.  “Well not all black women have fake hair and it’s a shame that he thinks that.”  “I have to go.” 
Later her nail tech told me how pissed she was that Maggie was such an ass.  “Do you know what she talks about during her nail service?”    I was afraid to ask.  “She talks about how her boyfriend wants her to take it up the ass but she doesn’t want to do it, his dick is so big she’s afraid.”   Wow.  Why do people think we want to hear this stuff?  
So the last time I got my hair done I had my stylist make my weave, yes I said it weave a little longer.   And whenever I see MS. Rode hard put away wet red nosed rude biach I think about her taking a big black cock up her ass.  And she looks at me with an annoying smirk as if she’s thinking “I know your hair is fake.”  My hair is paid for so that makes it mine, and when I am in my 50s I won’t look like you.  Thank God.

The Thief

I have never you been a fan of doing hair at home.  Kitchen hairstyling as it’s called is inconvenient unless have a set up with sink and chair etc.  I do not.  But that hasn’t stopped me.
Enter Heather my then next door neighbor.  Heather had 2 children worked and never had time to get her hair done.   She asked if I could do her hair, I said sure.   She had dark blonde hair highlights and haircut and blow dry $100. Very fair considering she did not have to spend money on gas, my back would be killing me after without the aid of a hydraulic chair and there was the business of bending ever the sink. Ouch.  Not to mention my time is worth something.
It was November a week before thanksgiving and Heather made an appointment to have her hair done so it would be fresh for the holidays.  No problem.  I got everything ready and I waited.  Her appointment was for 1:00. By 3:00 I called now pretty pissed off.  
“HI Heather”
“OH hi”
“I just need to know if you’re still coming to get your hair done”
“OH yeah, I forgot.  I’ll be right over”
I could tell something wasn’t right. I just had a feeling in the pit of my stomach.  I shrugged it off and moved on.
She came over I did her hair highlights cut blow out same as always.  When I was all finished she said   “oh I went shopping this morning and spent all my money.”  “Ok if I pay you tomorrow?”
The proper thing would have been for her to ask me that BEFORE I did her hair!!  At least I would have had a choice.  What was I supposed to say??
“Sure. No worries.”
Tomorrows came and went and still no payment.  One week two weeks.  Seeing her just about every day smiling and waving at me was making my blood boil.  I asked my two close friends and my mother what I should do.
My mom and my friend Kay said “just let it go, what goes around comes around.”
My friend J who is kind of well, let’s just say very no nonsense said.  “If I were you I would park a chair right in the direction of her house and stare that bitch down for a few days”.  Then knock on her door and demand your money!!”   
I’m not good at confrontation.  Maybe she really didn’t have the money.  Still she should have said something before I did her hair.  I spoke to my husband about it. 
“Do you want me to go over there?”
“No!”
“They have the money Kate.” 
He reminded me that Heathers husband played golf.  “I’ve seen his golf clubs, they’re not cheap and golf is not a cheap hobby.”
Finally I did the only thing that seemed right.  We sold our house and moved.
Relax, we were planning to move long before I was robbed (the technical term is theft of services).
I was happy to be gone from the area.  We moved in to a nicer house in a much better neighborhood.
A week before we moved Heather pulled up in a brand new conversion van.  Starting retail $35,000.
I hope I never see her again.