Tag Archives: Christian Louboutin

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

26 Jun

blog image passport

My passport was renewed!

Exclamation point because, for reasons I am about to explain, the passport renewal process can be quite precarious.

Mostly it was the “hair color” question.  And mostly because when I say “question,” know that your government isn’t so much asking but is, instead, demanding in a you-can-be-sent-to-prison-if-you-get-this-wrong kind of way and what with tests making me nervous and such, the thought of having my ability to flee the country on a moment’s notice revoked was enough to make me want to get an “A” or at least a “C.”  Not that I would ever need to flee the country on a moment’s notice.  Want, yes.  Need, I hope not.  Unless Christian Louboutin is having a one day sale.  Then I need to get to Paris.

At first I tried fudging the answer by smudging the ink until it was impossible to distinguish between brown or blonde which resulted in a rejected application and, also, a new word- “bronde™.” (Just like during my early school days when I would write down “T” for true, then sloppily erase most of it, then press down harder as I overwrote the “T” with an “F” (also known as the “tralse™”) and then erase again and double-back until there was essentially nothing left but a hole with a bunch of smeary marks and I hoped that the teacher would take pity on my conflicted heart and, maybe, give me half credit but I figured that the US Government wouldn’t stand for that.  Although as of today, the US Government does stand for marriage equality which means that most restaurants will now have even more married couples eating and not talking to each other, so there’s that.  Good job, Brownie.)

So then I asked the postmaster/passport officer/life coach what I should put down for hair color and he recommended that I call my stylist to find out exactly what she thinks she’s been doing every six weeks and why would I lay out all that money if I can’t even tell what it’s for (hence the life coach) at which point I countered with “why is hazel an acceptable color for eyes but not for hair?”  Or calico?  Or du jour?

Why is the US Government and the US Postal System conspiring against me?  (Especially by taking my new photo under harsh lighting.  So very unflattering.  What’s next- putting my actual weight on my driver’s license?  Oh regulations, I understand that you exist.  Buy why must you exist for me?)

Really, instead of a no-fly list, I should be on a no-dye list.  Or both.

(Unless I’m on my way to Jamaica in which case it’s a “No Woman, No Dye” list.)

PS: I truly believe that every thing is gonna be alright.

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Pickers, Pumps and Pride. (And the lack thereof.)

20 Jan

christian louboutin pump

Surely people know that if they show up for a live televised event they may end up actually appearing on TV, right?

And I’m not just talking about the folks who show up for “The Antiques Roadshow” wearing Tommy Bahama shirts and Capri pants.  Together.  With Teva sandals.  (Because they obviously don’t care about the cameras.)

Oh, PBS, there are times when I’d rather watch “Joe Bonamassa: Live At Royal Albert Hall” again than suffer through the fashion wreck that is The Roadshow.  It was hard enough watching host Mark Wahlberg receive hair transplants only to have him return as Mark Wahlberg, host of “The Antiques Roadshow” (albeit hairier).

(Question: why do the appraisers feel obligated to tell people what might have been “if these pieces were in perfect condition” or “if you had the original box” as it is of little consolation to hear that your toy appears to have been “well-played with” when your cousin down the street received the same Tonka truck for Christmas and is now the proud owner of a time-share in Key West?  Here’s a tip: let’s have the toy appraiser dress like the furniture guy, the furniture guy stop getting so damn excited about Cabriole legs and the jeweler surrender his pinky ring.

Oy.

Moving on to “Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives”.  Is it possible that the host is convinced that the flavor of stringy meats improves by yelling?  Why else would he yell so much?  And, my stars, the amount of stringy meat that man eats is a lot.  Maybe he’s yelling because he’s about to have a coronary event.

“I’m Guy Fieri and my face is as red as my Camaro!”

Have a salad and chill out, Buddy.  While it is true that I’ve never had salad that tasted “off the hook,” I’ve also never worn sunglasses around the back of my neck or worn flip-flops into a commercial kitchen.  So there’s that.

Less yelling and a little more attention to wardrobe please.  (PS: your hair is as fried as the food you eat.  Less yelling and some conditioner too.)

Now “American Pickers” has completely ruined the word “bundle” for me.  A bundle implies comfort, warmth, and snuggles.  Jesus was wrapped in a bundle for Christ’s sake.  Those guys are as authentic and sincere as Chris Christie at a salad bar. (A salad bar located in the basement of a LGBTQ Unitarian Universalist Church just past the GWB, that is.)  To The Pickers, “bundling” is a way to pay less for more stuff.  It’s the opposite of commerce and I’m not even sure it’s a real verb.  You don’t see me down at the Food King haggling with the manager to lower the price on my Oreos, wine coolers and Vogue magazine just because I’m purchasing all three.  (And really I’m only there for the wine coolers.  The other items are to make me appear less pathetic.)

So the Little Picker, the guy shaped like a poundcake, now his method is to downplay the value of an item by losing the part of his brain that is responsible for vocabulary.  “How much you want for this dusty thing here?” he asks, while pointing at a vintage neon jukebox.  “It’s old and what are those dirty, round things there inside it?  Records?  How much do you have to have to let something like that go?” he’ll ask while the Angular Picker keeps uttering random numbers while touching different items like some sort of weird Lumosity game.

Here’s what I would tell Little Picker: “Zero.  I don’t have to have anything for the jukebox because I don’t have to let it go.  I let you in here because a lady from your office wouldn’t stop calling me.  I’ll tell you what I do have to say though: wear a clean, unripped t-shirt when you call on people.  You’re on television for crying out loud, Little Picker.”

Finally why, oh why, do people on “House Hunters” think that it’s okay to lie on the seller’s bed with their shoes on?  And sit in someone’s bathtub with their shoes on?  And stand in a stranger’s shower stall with their shoes on?

When did we become such a shoe-loving nation and why wasn’t I consulted?

I have shoes (and coordinating bags) for all occasions including, but not limited to: television appearances, readings, open mics, television appearances, Christian Louboutin store openings, television appearances and television appearances.

And now that you know what not to wear on television, I’m sure you’re ready for television too.

(Did I mention that I am available for television appearances?)

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