06 November 2011

Pennsylvania: Where Nipples Go to Convalesce

Now that my girlie is in college in New York, we have the dubious "pleasure" twice a year of hauling her and all her stuff to and from the dorm of the year.  It's not that I mind, really, though I could do without the 16-hour (one way) drive.  I usually last about 5 hours before I start getting the fidgets, after which it's all downhill.  I get bored.  I try to read.  My butt goes numb.  I stretch my legs in the limited space.  I munch snacks.  Awkward body parts that have no business falling asleep somehow do.  Very little can change the plain fact that 16 hours is just a long freaking drive, never mind having to do it twice in less than a week.

That said, one of my favorite things about the long drive is traveling through Pennsylvania.  The scenery alongside the Susquehanna River is gorgeous and, without fail, I find myself singing "Oh Shenandoah, I love your dauuuuuu-ghterrrrrrrr" whenever we pass the signs, much to my own daughter's annoyance.  It seems I have several such nerdy little habits.  Well, at least I'm consistent.

Speaking of signs, by far the best part about driving through Pennsylvania are, in fact, the road signs.  On our most recent trip there in August I spent pretty much the entire time both going and coming trying to get decent pictures of some of the better ones.  While I didn't get all of the good ones, I did get a few to share.  Lucky you.

Beware--Amish Crossing.
On the way up this time, we actually got to see two of the buggies completely wrapped in Saran Wrap and traveling on a flat-bed truck.  How's that for irony?  Deliberately un-powered vehicles being transported by a semi.  Too funny.

You've gotta love the "Spill Response" right below the "Water Supply Area, Next 2 Miles."
Apparently Pennsylvania doesn't trust people not to spill their water supply.

You can picnic, but you can't pee.  Not that I've ever found rest stop restrooms to be what I would call "comfortable."

Keep Alert...the world needs more Lerts.
   
Like you wouldn't notice heavy trucks zipping around you.
 
As opposed to "Speed Up and Take Down People for More Points"?

We don't believe in those kind of parties around here.
 
Big Brother is Watching You.  He's currently hiding in that cornfield.

Especially in those buggies.

And this would be WHY you watch out for Aggressive Drivers.
Or does that just mean that all the aggressive drivers crash in this one spot?

Buckle Up Every Time--the cows hiding in the cornfields like tipping cars.

Can one even drive a million miles around the Earth?

Smile--everyone will wonder what you're up to, right, Lisa?  And shouldn't that really read "Smirk--Pass It On"?

Eating flies and dating a pig has always been MY dream.

Dam!  This place is Sha-MOKIN'!!

I'm glad they pointed that out.  Because I was looking for the Impure Candy Store...

We got stuck behind this dude for a while, and all I could do was keep singing the "Piña Colada" song.

$500 for parking for the Little League World Series?  That seems a bit extreme.

Battlestar Galactica Billboards  FTW.

Apparently Pennsylvania has too many outlets.

I wasn't aware that marijuana came in cans now.

Yes, technically ice cream does come from cows, but this form of advertising is udderly ridiculous.

Pennsylvania takes its James Joyce celebrations very seriously.

Swanky McDonald's sells Mango Pineapple smoothies.

And when exactly did McDonald's start redesigning the Golden Arches?  Now it just looks like a messed-up
Nike swish instead of golden arches.  So what's the new slogan gonna be, "Just Chew It"?


Putting that on a billboard is kind of like having a banner on your computer that reads "Won't you be my Internet Stalker?"

Best.Signs.Ever.  If you look closely, you can see a red nose on the deer.
Closeup of Rudolph, though I suspect this particular sign was embellished.  Most of the noses aren't quite that big.

My husband told me about this sign--I made him turn around and go back so I could see it.
Good thing he was driving  at the time so I that could take pictures, because if
*I* had been behind the wheel and seen this, I probably would have driven off the road.

Seriously?  I wasn't aware that there were so many nipple ailments that they warranted their own convalescent home.
Worse still, look closely behind the Nipple flag banner--there's a Frigidaire air conditioning unit in the window.
Because there is nothing a good nipple convalescent home needs more than cold air blowing across the residents, amirite?
Also, at the Nipple Convalescent Home, after hours you should use the rear entrance.  Um, yeah.
Interesting treatment, that.  And just remember, no shamokin'...we don't need any additional pains in the ash.

I don't know that there is a lot more I can add to red-nosed reindeer, non-impure chocolate and nipple convalescence.   So thanks, Pennsylvania, for letting me know where my nipples can convalesce should they choose to droop any further south and therefore require corrective surgery.  I am relieved to know that there is a place specializing in their care and that it is adequately air conditioned.  That had been a prevailing concern in my life thus far.

Pennsylvania: Where Nipples Go to Convalesce

Now that my girlie is in college in New York, we have the dubious "pleasure" twice a year of hauling her and all her stuff to and from the dorm of the year.  It's not that I mind, really, though I could do without the 16-hour (one way) drive.  I usually last about 5 hours before I start getting the fidgets, after which it's all downhill.  I get bored.  I try to read.  My butt goes numb.  I stretch my legs in the limited space.  I munch snacks.  Awkward body parts that have no business falling asleep somehow do.  Very little can change the plain fact that 16 hours is just a long freaking drive, never mind having to do it twice in less than a week.

That said, one of my favorite things about the long drive is traveling through Pennsylvania.  The scenery alongside the Susquehanna River is gorgeous and, without fail, I find myself singing "Oh Shenandoah, I love your dauuuuuu-ghterrrrrrrr" whenever we pass the signs, much to my own daughter's annoyance.  It seems I have several such nerdy little habits.  Well, at least I'm consistent.

Speaking of signs, by far the best part about driving through Pennsylvania are, in fact, the road signs.  On our most recent trip there in August I spent pretty much the entire time both going and coming trying to get decent pictures of some of the better ones.  While I didn't get all of the good ones, I did get a few to share.  Lucky you.

Beware--Amish Crossing.
On the way up this time, we actually got to see two of the buggies completely wrapped in Saran Wrap and traveling on a flat-bed truck.  How's that for irony?  Deliberately un-powered vehicles being transported by a semi.  Too funny.

You've gotta love the "Spill Response" right below the "Water Supply Area, Next 2 Miles."
Apparently Pennsylvania doesn't trust people not to spill their water supply.

You can picnic, but you can't pee.  Not that I've ever found rest stop restrooms to be what I would call "comfortable."

Keep Alert...the world needs more Lerts.
   
Like you wouldn't notice heavy trucks zipping around you.
 
As opposed to "Speed Up and Take Down People for More Points"?

We don't believe in those kind of parties around here.
 
Big Brother is Watching You.  He's currently hiding in that cornfield.

Especially in those buggies.

And this would be WHY you watch out for Aggressive Drivers.
Or does that just mean that all the aggressive drivers crash in this one spot?

Buckle Up Every Time--the cows hiding in the cornfields like tipping cars.

Can one even drive a million miles around the Earth?

Smile--everyone will wonder what you're up to, right, Lisa?  And shouldn't that really read "Smirk--Pass It On"?

Eating flies and dating a pig has always been MY dream.

Dam!  This place is Sha-MOKIN'!!

I'm glad they pointed that out.  Because I was looking for the Impure Candy Store...

We got stuck behind this dude for a while, and all I could do was keep singing the "Piña Colada" song.

$500 for parking for the Little League World Series?  That seems a bit extreme.

Battlestar Galactica Billboards  FTW.

Apparently Pennsylvania has too many outlets.

I wasn't aware that marijuana came in cans now.

Yes, technically ice cream does come from cows, but this form of advertising is udderly ridiculous.

Pennsylvania takes its James Joyce celebrations very seriously.

Swanky McDonald's sells Mango Pineapple smoothies.

And when exactly did McDonald's start redesigning the Golden Arches?  Now it just looks like a messed-up
Nike swish instead of golden arches.  So what's the new slogan gonna be, "Just Chew It"?


Putting that on a billboard is kind of like having a banner on your computer that reads "Won't you be my Internet Stalker?"

Best.Signs.Ever.  If you look closely, you can see a red nose on the deer.
Closeup of Rudolph, though I suspect this particular sign was embellished.  Most of the noses aren't quite that big.

My husband told me about this sign--I made him turn around and go back so I could see it.
Good thing he was driving  at the time so I that could take pictures, because if
*I* had been behind the wheel and seen this, I probably would have driven off the road.

Seriously?  I wasn't aware that there were so many nipple ailments that they warranted their own convalescent home.
Worse still, look closely behind the Nipple flag banner--there's a Frigidaire air conditioning unit in the window.
Because there is nothing a good nipple convalescent home needs more than cold air blowing across the residents, amirite?
Also, at the Nipple Convalescent Home, after hours you should use the rear entrance.  Um, yeah.
Interesting treatment, that.  And just remember, no shamokin'...we don't need any additional pains in the ash.

I don't know that there is a lot more I can add to red-nosed reindeer, non-impure chocolate and nipple convalescence.   So thanks, Pennsylvania, for letting me know where my nipples can convalesce should they choose to droop any further south and therefore require corrective surgery.  I am relieved to know that there is a place specializing in their care and that it is adequately air conditioned.  That had been a prevailing concern in my life thus far.

05 November 2011

Little Shop of Hairers

Okay, so apparently I lied on Thursday's post.  You know how when you get your hair done at a salon you reserve judgement on the cut because you know that it will never, ever look the same way again?  Or at least not until you go back?

Yeah, me too.  I can do pretty well styling other people's hair, but not particularly my own.   As a result, when I leave any salon, my hair will look good for approximately one day or until I rewash my hair, whichever comes first.

Earlier today I did just that.  I washed my hair.  I washed away the professional styling and returned my hair to its natural state--half-assed.

After it dried, I brushed through it, discovering to my chagrin that my new guy Ricky had not, in fact, improved upon the choppiness over my ears like I thought he had.  I specifically asked him to blend the layers on top into those at the bottom more smoothly.  It didn't happen.  If anything, he made it worse.

I am now the dubious possessor of a mini-mullet.  Awesome.

Oh, Ricky, I had such high hopes for you.  True, you did a decent job with the color and true, you didn't totally screw up giving me some texture and lift on top.  But a mullet?  Really??  

Now I'm probably going to have to let my hair grow out to an unmanageable length then go back to Memphis to get it fixed.  Why do hairstylists here hate my hair so much?  Sigh.

Really, Ricky??  I look like Carol Freakin' Brady, the Ginger Model.
 

Little Shop of Hairers

Okay, so apparently I lied on Thursday's post.  You know how when you get your hair done at a salon you reserve judgement on the cut because you know that it will never, ever look the same way again?  Or at least not until you go back?

Yeah, me too.  I can do pretty well styling other people's hair, but not particularly my own.   As a result, when I leave any salon, my hair will look good for approximately one day or until I rewash my hair, whichever comes first.

Earlier today I did just that.  I washed my hair.  I washed away the professional styling and returned my hair to its natural state--half-assed.

After it dried, I brushed through it, discovering to my chagrin that my new guy Ricky had not, in fact, improved upon the choppiness over my ears like I thought he had.  I specifically asked him to blend the layers on top into those at the bottom more smoothly.  It didn't happen.  If anything, he made it worse.

I am now the dubious possessor of a mini-mullet.  Awesome.

Oh, Ricky, I had such high hopes for you.  True, you did a decent job with the color and true, you didn't totally screw up giving me some texture and lift on top.  But a mullet?  Really??  

Now I'm probably going to have to let my hair grow out to an unmanageable length then go back to Memphis to get it fixed.  Why do hairstylists here hate my hair so much?  Sigh.

Really, Ricky??  I look like Carol Freakin' Brady, the Ginger Model.
 

04 November 2011

Serendipity

No one's life is perfect. There are ups and downs, of course, and you never know what's going to happen from one day to the next. Every once in a while, however, God smiles on you and you get to experience a day in which virtually everything goes right. For me, today was just such a day.

Nearly 8 months ago, we upped sticks and moved out of state for my husband's job. While I have gotten most of the house in relative order, progress on my office upstairs has been painfully slow here in Brigadoon, the land that time forgot. I finally got the walls painted and now half of the shelves I had put in are painted as well. My next step (aside from painting the rest of the shelves, which I have been assiduously avoiding) was to locate a new desk. The one I have currently is perfectly serviceable but isn't really wide enough to hold my printer and other office-y sorts of things (nor are any of my new shelves) and running back and forth between my office and the guest room where the printer is currently housed is beginning to lose its charm.  So the plan was to find an L-shaped desk for me and then donate my hand-me-down desk to my husband, who is presently using a desk far too small for either him or his office (never mind the fact that its styling is on the distinctly girlie side). Besides, I figured that by the time I sold off all our old furniture--which is mostly housed in my dining room, otherwise known as the "Furniture Depot"--I would have sufficient funds to purchase a new desk, theoretically breaking even.

I spent several days researching desks online, in between wielding my paintbrush. Because I have basically truncated two feet of my office by adding all the shelves, floor space is at a premium and trying to find a desk that will meet my needs and still fit the room was seeming more and more difficult. Eventually I found a few possibilities, but nothing ideal. I even considered a glass L-shaped desk, but it lacked drawers in which to stash my junk. And it would just be awkward to spend all day sitting in my office without my drawers...

As luck would have it, last week I received an email from Office Depot which included a 25% coupon good for any one furniture item. On my prior visits to Office Depot, I didn't see anything that I really liked, but with that big an incentive I returned and found a U-shaped desk that looked like it might work. And, being the incredible geek that I am, I went back to the store on Friday with tape measure in hand to determine the actual dimensions of the desk and compare them to the space available in my office. The spacing will probably be a little tighter than I'd like, but it still seemed like the best option. Besides, I'll be the only one in the office 95% of the time, so I'm the only one who really has to deal with it.

And that brings me to my very serendipitous day. After sleeping in and having a leisurely breakfast, I did a bit of final research on desks, ultimately deciding that the one at Office Depot was the winner (with the added bonus that its list price was $300, as opposed to the $500+ of most of the comparable models I'd seen online). With the coupon bringing the price of the desk down, I could afford to get a new office chair as well, both of which would then cost about the same as one of the desks online. So with the coupon due to expire at the end of the day, I dragged the hubs off to the store after printing 2 copies of the coupon, figuring I could make him use one to buy the chair and I could use the other to buy the desk.

I tracked down a sales associate to purchase the desk, which turned out to be "delivery only." Next, I had to decide whether to have it delivered to my house or whether to pick it up there. Shipping turned out to be cheaper than expected at only $25, which the sales associate and manager then wrote off. So now not only have I gotten the 25% off the desk, I've gotten free shipping to my house as well. The sales associate also offered to ring up the two items separately so I could use both coupons, which made my husband infinitely happier because then he didn't have to talk to people. The heavy-duty chair I'd selected was originally $270, but when I went to retrieve the pull tag on it, I noticed that a black version of the same chair was on sale for $100 off, as were many other chairs in the store. I asked about it and was told that the sales tags had been placed in anticipation of next week's sale, which didn't begin till the next day; however, since the tags were out and visible, they still had to honor them. So I got my chair for $100 off and the guy still let me use my coupon. By the time I had purchased a case of paper and a couple of other minor items, my total bill came out to what just the chair would have been on sale, without tax. Score!
Better yet, having to wait till Wednesday for the desk to be delivered means that I still have three days to finish painting the rest of the flippin' shelves in my office before it comes.

Needless to say, I was quite pleased with myself. But the day didn't end there. I also forced the hubs to go to Payless for more shoes, since he has a penchant for wearing his previous shoes until they are literally flapping in the wind. He was less than thrilled about spending money on three different pairs of shoes (gasp!), but when I pointed out that it was still less than most people spent on ONE pair of good sneakers, he conceded the point. Besides, spending $30 on a pair of shoes that he will make last nearly 3 years means he'll more than get his money's worth out of said shoes. At any rate, when we went to pay for them, I noticed a sign by the register advertising a savings of 20% off if you texted "shoes" to the listed number, which would then enable you to receive texts advertising sales. So I did, knowing that I could disable the texts later, and saved yet another chunk of change on the shoe purchase.

Once the transactions were completed, we decided to stop at a local restaurant for dinner. The wait was supposed to be 15-20 minutes, which isn't bad for a Saturday night in town. All around the restaurants were televisions broadcasting the Butler-Florida basketball game of March Madness. When we sat down to wait, we noticed that the game had gone into overtime and had a tied score of 67-67. We watched avidly as the game wound down, with possession changing hands several times until ultimately Butler won (yay!) over Florida by 3 points. Now I've never been a giant basketball fan, but I have to root for little Butler, not just because I love a good underdog (or "Dawg," as the case may be), but because I actually attended Butler my freshman year of college. It was a great school, and I was sad that I had to transfer for financial reasons. But you have to love rooting for a little 8th seeded team knocking down superior powerhouses right and left. And I would have been so annoyed if had been seated before the game finished. Instead, literally seconds after the buzzer sounded on the television, our beeper went off and we were seated. I especially loved the roar that went up in the restaurant when Butler won; it seems that Georgia fans and Florida fans are bitter rivals; in fact, on the wall behind us was a large painting of a Florida Gator being set on fire at the stake by a Georgia Dawg. I guess all "dawgs" have to stick together.

As it happened, I had coupons in my car for the restaurant at which we stopped, making today clearly Coupon Cornucopia Day. Not that I'm complaining, mind you...I have no problem saving a couple of hundred dollars in one day. Not only that, my stoplight karma kicked in (even with my hubs in the car--he has some bizarre electrical ability to make all the lights change to red) and I made most of the lights on the way home.

So it has been an amazingly good day. While I sometimes have days in which one or even two good things may happen, I have rarely, if ever, had a day in which a string of multiple good things happen one after the other--particularly good things which end up saving me lots and lots of money.

I could get used to days like this.

EDITED TO ADD:  Actually, I wrote this post over 7 months ago now, at the end of March, but then got busy with other things and promptly forgot about it.  I just ran across the draft today while sifting through posts for this daily blogging thing, so I figured "waste not, want not."  ;-)


Serendipity

No one's life is perfect. There are ups and downs, of course, and you never know what's going to happen from one day to the next. Every once in a while, however, God smiles on you and you get to experience a day in which virtually everything goes right. For me, today was just such a day.

Nearly 8 months ago, we upped sticks and moved out of state for my husband's job. While I have gotten most of the house in relative order, progress on my office upstairs has been painfully slow here in Brigadoon, the land that time forgot. I finally got the walls painted and now half of the shelves I had put in are painted as well. My next step (aside from painting the rest of the shelves, which I have been assiduously avoiding) was to locate a new desk. The one I have currently is perfectly serviceable but isn't really wide enough to hold my printer and other office-y sorts of things (nor are any of my new shelves) and running back and forth between my office and the guest room where the printer is currently housed is beginning to lose its charm.  So the plan was to find an L-shaped desk for me and then donate my hand-me-down desk to my husband, who is presently using a desk far too small for either him or his office (never mind the fact that its styling is on the distinctly girlie side). Besides, I figured that by the time I sold off all our old furniture--which is mostly housed in my dining room, otherwise known as the "Furniture Depot"--I would have sufficient funds to purchase a new desk, theoretically breaking even.

I spent several days researching desks online, in between wielding my paintbrush. Because I have basically truncated two feet of my office by adding all the shelves, floor space is at a premium and trying to find a desk that will meet my needs and still fit the room was seeming more and more difficult. Eventually I found a few possibilities, but nothing ideal. I even considered a glass L-shaped desk, but it lacked drawers in which to stash my junk. And it would just be awkward to spend all day sitting in my office without my drawers...

As luck would have it, last week I received an email from Office Depot which included a 25% coupon good for any one furniture item. On my prior visits to Office Depot, I didn't see anything that I really liked, but with that big an incentive I returned and found a U-shaped desk that looked like it might work. And, being the incredible geek that I am, I went back to the store on Friday with tape measure in hand to determine the actual dimensions of the desk and compare them to the space available in my office. The spacing will probably be a little tighter than I'd like, but it still seemed like the best option. Besides, I'll be the only one in the office 95% of the time, so I'm the only one who really has to deal with it.

And that brings me to my very serendipitous day. After sleeping in and having a leisurely breakfast, I did a bit of final research on desks, ultimately deciding that the one at Office Depot was the winner (with the added bonus that its list price was $300, as opposed to the $500+ of most of the comparable models I'd seen online). With the coupon bringing the price of the desk down, I could afford to get a new office chair as well, both of which would then cost about the same as one of the desks online. So with the coupon due to expire at the end of the day, I dragged the hubs off to the store after printing 2 copies of the coupon, figuring I could make him use one to buy the chair and I could use the other to buy the desk.

I tracked down a sales associate to purchase the desk, which turned out to be "delivery only." Next, I had to decide whether to have it delivered to my house or whether to pick it up there. Shipping turned out to be cheaper than expected at only $25, which the sales associate and manager then wrote off. So now not only have I gotten the 25% off the desk, I've gotten free shipping to my house as well. The sales associate also offered to ring up the two items separately so I could use both coupons, which made my husband infinitely happier because then he didn't have to talk to people. The heavy-duty chair I'd selected was originally $270, but when I went to retrieve the pull tag on it, I noticed that a black version of the same chair was on sale for $100 off, as were many other chairs in the store. I asked about it and was told that the sales tags had been placed in anticipation of next week's sale, which didn't begin till the next day; however, since the tags were out and visible, they still had to honor them. So I got my chair for $100 off and the guy still let me use my coupon. By the time I had purchased a case of paper and a couple of other minor items, my total bill came out to what just the chair would have been on sale, without tax. Score!
Better yet, having to wait till Wednesday for the desk to be delivered means that I still have three days to finish painting the rest of the flippin' shelves in my office before it comes.

Needless to say, I was quite pleased with myself. But the day didn't end there. I also forced the hubs to go to Payless for more shoes, since he has a penchant for wearing his previous shoes until they are literally flapping in the wind. He was less than thrilled about spending money on three different pairs of shoes (gasp!), but when I pointed out that it was still less than most people spent on ONE pair of good sneakers, he conceded the point. Besides, spending $30 on a pair of shoes that he will make last nearly 3 years means he'll more than get his money's worth out of said shoes. At any rate, when we went to pay for them, I noticed a sign by the register advertising a savings of 20% off if you texted "shoes" to the listed number, which would then enable you to receive texts advertising sales. So I did, knowing that I could disable the texts later, and saved yet another chunk of change on the shoe purchase.

Once the transactions were completed, we decided to stop at a local restaurant for dinner. The wait was supposed to be 15-20 minutes, which isn't bad for a Saturday night in town. All around the restaurants were televisions broadcasting the Butler-Florida basketball game of March Madness. When we sat down to wait, we noticed that the game had gone into overtime and had a tied score of 67-67. We watched avidly as the game wound down, with possession changing hands several times until ultimately Butler won (yay!) over Florida by 3 points. Now I've never been a giant basketball fan, but I have to root for little Butler, not just because I love a good underdog (or "Dawg," as the case may be), but because I actually attended Butler my freshman year of college. It was a great school, and I was sad that I had to transfer for financial reasons. But you have to love rooting for a little 8th seeded team knocking down superior powerhouses right and left. And I would have been so annoyed if had been seated before the game finished. Instead, literally seconds after the buzzer sounded on the television, our beeper went off and we were seated. I especially loved the roar that went up in the restaurant when Butler won; it seems that Georgia fans and Florida fans are bitter rivals; in fact, on the wall behind us was a large painting of a Florida Gator being set on fire at the stake by a Georgia Dawg. I guess all "dawgs" have to stick together.

As it happened, I had coupons in my car for the restaurant at which we stopped, making today clearly Coupon Cornucopia Day. Not that I'm complaining, mind you...I have no problem saving a couple of hundred dollars in one day. Not only that, my stoplight karma kicked in (even with my hubs in the car--he has some bizarre electrical ability to make all the lights change to red) and I made most of the lights on the way home.

So it has been an amazingly good day. While I sometimes have days in which one or even two good things may happen, I have rarely, if ever, had a day in which a string of multiple good things happen one after the other--particularly good things which end up saving me lots and lots of money.

I could get used to days like this.

EDITED TO ADD:  Actually, I wrote this post over 7 months ago now, at the end of March, but then got busy with other things and promptly forgot about it.  I just ran across the draft today while sifting through posts for this daily blogging thing, so I figured "waste not, want not."  ;-)


03 November 2011

Dis-Tressed for Success

My family has issues with hair.  I'm not sure exactly why that is, but it has become clear over the years that none of us will ever be on a best-tressed list.  My husband has thick, curly hair which should be the envy of women everywhere, but he sadly lacks the hair-styling gene and so runs around more often than not with scraggly, overgrown hair.  It doesn't help that he has a double crown, which makes his hair difficult to cut.  I'm lucky if he gets it cut every three months; his would-be luscious curls inevitably pull out mostly straight from the weight of uncut hair and flap about his face, forever unruly.  When he was younger, he was subjected to home haircuts (with 4 kids in the house, saving money was important).  As a result, most of the pictures I've seen from that era involve something between a bowl haircut and a really, really bad Beatles' 'do.
Grade School Hair
High School Hair--nice glasses, Dude...clearly I married Eric Forman.

In grad school--the tie-dyed shirt and hemp sandals
must have been in the wash.

So far, my daughter has fared the best of the three of us.  She started out as a towhead with wispy fine hair that grew so slowly that she was three before she even had enough hair to cut.  Eventually her hair started to darken, much to her consternation, thickening as she grew.  She even picked up a little wave, courtesy of her father.  Her only real follicle challenge is a slightly high hairline and a marked disinterest in bothering with hair any more than absolutely necessary.  Sounds oddly familiar.

Cutie Patootie, Age 3
Senior Pic, age 17.  Taking the time to fix her hair
is worth the effort, no?  I love this girl.
  
 While my husband has the potential for awesome hair, even if he lacks the ability or interest in pulling it off, I am doing good simply to have the potential for hair.  Ever since I was small, my hair has been very thin and fine and generally the bane of my existence.  In an effort to combat this over the years I have had a string of highly unfortunate perms that tended to make me look like an electrocuted poodle.  These perms were interspersed with poor haircuts that usually rendered my hair flat and lifeless or short and stuck to my head like one of Esther William's swim caps.  This condition was not improved by my mother's own attempts to save money by cutting my hair.  Mercifully no bowls were used; rather, my bangs were regularly cut by Scotch Tape.  She'd tear off a strip of tape and slap it across my forehead, using it as a ruler to cut a straight line.  Unfortunately, the tape was rarely (if indeed ever) put on straight, so my bangs were constantly cut at an angle.  More often than not, I looked like my hair had been styled with a weed-whacker.  

Notice the wavy hairline, angled down to the left.
Though to be fair, this is better than many of my haircuts.

Who gives their kid a perm at age 5?  My hair was freaking TRIANGULAR.
Also, my bangs are still wavy and higher in the middle than on the sides.
 
By the time I was in 8th grade, I was determined to remedy this atrocity by cutting my own hair, sans tape.  I went into the bathroom with my mom's (dull) scissors, and proceeded to cut.  Crap.  Too short on one side.  So I trimmed the other half a little more.  Crap.  Too short on that side now.  This went on, back and forth, for approximately 30 minutes, at the end of which I was left with stubby 1/2" bangs.  Worse still, I was left with stubby 1/2" bangs a mere TWO DAYS before school pictures.  Bad enough to to something so stupid, much less to have it immortalized in film.  

My embarrassment for your pleasure.  You're welcome.
Also, you know you want those glasses.

You would think having thin, fine hair would make it easier to cut--there's just not that much of it, after all--especially when its growth is predisposed towards stopping at shoulder length.  Seriously--my hair stops growing as soon as it gets anywhere near my collarbone, splitting almost with seconds of hitting my shoulder.  And yet, nearly every time I go into a new salon I have to deal with the humiliation of some stylist pawing through my hair, saying things like "Oh, Marge, come over here!  Feel this--she has hair just like a BABY!!"  Because what grown woman doesn't love hearing that?

One of many horrible perms over the years, as well as another
ugly pair of glasses.  I made that dress, though.

Short hair FAIL.  I look like a boy in a Charlie Brown shirt. 
And check out the butt-ugly couch.

With my brother in '85.  Probably my all-time most favorite haircut,
which I first got from a BARBER on the Butler campus.  Go figure. 
Pretty '80s, though.

Not surprisingly, finding a new stylist whenever I move is a major pain, and moving to Georgia has been no different.  After spending 18 years going to the same guy in Memphis, I dreaded starting over down here.  Turns out I had good reason.  I went to one place and showed them pictures of how I wanted my hair.  Not pictures of Jennifer Anniston's hair or any other celebrity's hair--I showed pictures of my very own hair cut in the way I liked.  Fat lot of good it did.  The woman styling my hair cut it, blew it out and styled it.  I started to worry when partway through it started looking suspiciously "big."  I wear glasses and always have to take them off when my hair gets cut, which means that it's difficult to judge new people while they are cutting since I can't really see what's going on.  I grabbed my glasses and was horrified to discover that she had given me Sally Field's helmet hair from the movie Steel Magnolias.  I immediately started pawing through it in an attempt to make it deflate.  My hair was poofy, it was crooked, and it was just terribly cut.  I was so put out by the whole thing that the receptionist ended up refunding my money, but I still never went back.

No one likes Helmet Hair.
My next couple of forays went marginally better, but not great.  I often ended up waiting 2-3 months between haircuts just so I could have my old stylist do my hair when we were back in Memphis to visit.  Finally, though, I found a new guy just last month.  The cut wasn't perfect, but it was head and shoulders above any other I've had here so I actually went back to him today.  I always figure I'll give a new stylist a chance to cut my hair first, and if they get that right then I'll let them try coloring it.  While my hair is naturally auburn, its color has varied over the years, darkening from reddish blonde to reddish brown as I've gotten older.  I'm convinced that my mother only adopted me because I had red hair; she has always had an obsession with redheads, so much so that when she found out my second boyfriend was a carrot top, she started pushing me to marry him so that she could have "red-headed grandchildren."  I was 18 at the time.  

Ginger Pimpin'.  Otherwise known as bad perm
and specs #15.

Anyway, a few years ago, I began suffering the indignity of "mutant albino hairs" (my hair is not getting grey...I'm far too young to go grey...) and so now I have to have my natural color touched up as well.  I suppose technically I don't have to touch it up, but most redheads don't look all that fabulous with grey hair.  We look like someone left us out in the sun too long and we faded.  It's not pretty.  Dying hair red can be an issue, though.  I want my hair to look natural, like it was before the advent of mutant albino hair.   Too often new stylists make it come out brassy or an odd shade that doesn't suit my skintone.  Fortunately, my man Ricky did an excellent job matching my hair color and camouflaging those grey roots.  He was also able to improve on the cut, presumably because we are becoming a little more acquainted with each other and he is understanding my needs more.

Happy Hair

I don't know what it says about me that I seem to do better with male stylists, but I do.  The two I've had tell me all about their wives, their kids, and they make me laugh.  Just today Ricky and I were swapping bad haircut stories.  I told him about my junior high debacle and he told me about a client he had who felt the need to adjust her bangs right before her daughter's wedding.  Um, what?  It seems she had a couple stray hairs that just wouldn't do, so in order to make corrections she grabbed the only thing she had to hand--her nail clippers.  When all was said and done, this 60-year-old woman went to her daughter's wedding with little curved divots cut out of her hair.  Can you imagine the wedding pictures?  "Nice scalloped hair, Mom..."  Of course, the problem with telling me such a story is that I immediately suggested using a pinking shears.  Ricky just looked at me and said "You know you don't have to try to best her, right?"  Fifteen minutes later we were giggling hysterically while we considered all sorts of other interesting items that could be used for cutting one's hair, including (but not limited to) a potato peeler, a cheese grater, and an egg beater.  ("Whip it--whip it good!")  I don't suppose I should be surprised that Ricky and I were talking kitchen gear; turns out he is a part-time baker as well.  I have threatened to pay for my next trim in snickerdoodles.  His eyes lit up when I said "snickerdoodles," so I think he may be game for a trade.

Oh, please--like you didn't know they'd show up again sooner or later.

Snickerdoooooooodles...future haircut funding?

So what about all of you?  Best hair experience?  Worst hair experience?  Discuss.