Tuesday, February 08, 2005


The setting: My rental house in college on Transylvania Park at UK.
The witnesses: None, which is amazing since all five of us shared the same bathroom.
The moral: "Over-styled" is sometimes the better choice.

I was almost ready for a hot date when I decided that my hair was way too "hair-sprayed" and "over-styled" looking for the hip and trendy art party I was attending later that evening.
I decided I needed a more I-really-don't-care-about-such-things-my-life-is-art-looking hairstyle.
A quick wash and re-style would be the best remedy for my situation.
Since, of course, there is no such thing as a quick wash and re-style, and since my date would be arriving in only moments, I decided to go for it.

And the scene unfolds:
Okay, I'll just hang my famously cool pink jacket over this knob. Surely this won't mess up my makeup too bad. I'll wash my hair in the sink. Yeah.... quick n' easy! This will take mere minutes. Ten minutes tops.

So there I am, craning my neck over the tiny pedestal sink, washing my tragically over-styled 'do into submission.
Shampoo second time for optimal results.
Fabulous, almost there and ahead of schedule. That only took, like, two minutes!

Now let's just flip this wet tangled mop back into place and whip out that brush and blow dryer.
Feeling a little disoriented from having my head in the sink so long, my first "flip back" was weak.
Just didn't flip it back with enough force.

I can't brush that mess.
Let's try that flip again...this time with FEELING.
Flip and BONK *total blackout* ...well, that time was certainly with feeling.

Apparently the sink was much taller than I thought. I smacked my head with absolutely everything I had on that poor little pedestal sink.
To imagine what that graceful move looked like to some random passerby.

I came to my senses only moments later. Flat on my back on the bathroom floor...a tangled mess of wet hair...shirtless and someone was knocking on the door.
Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock!
Oh CRAP! My date!

I climb back to my feet using the toilet as a ladder and look in the mirror. When the stars quit floating around I finally focused in on the damage.
Freaking great. Just awesome.
An enormous red hump. On my forehead. Running the entire length of my frontal lobe and I was pretty sure it was turning blue as I the seconds ticked by.

Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock!
Oh my.
Oh no.
This'll be brilliant.

I put my famously cool pink jacket back on, now feeling not-so-famously-cool, and pushed the matted mess of bird nest hair away from my blurred eyeballs and throbbing noggin.

"I'm coming. I'm coming."
I crack the door and try to look charming.
"Hey handsome."
Handsome date is curiously peeking back at me.
"What the hell happened to your head?"

As I began to tell my story, I wished, if only for a moment, that I wasn't a blonde and that I hadn't just grown my bangs out.

Ah, Vanity, what a cruel friend you can be.


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