My New Favorite Response to my Hair

My friend Paul: You got a haircut!

Me: Yep.

Paul: What's up with that?

Wham! It's George Michael! Part 1

I did something totally spontaneously last night. I went to see George Michael in concert. I know! What happened was, I saw my friend Liz on Saturday, because I had called her for support on my haircut. She said, just like Sophie did, "I'll come right over!" We ended up going to Whole Foods together, and right there, in the produce section, she told me that GM was performing at the Garden, and there were still tickets available for the next night, and would I like to go? I thought about it for about one second, and said, "Sure!" Oh my god, I felt so free and spontaneous!

So yesterday Liz went down to the Garden and got tickets, and we met up for dinner and then walked over. The show was supposed to start at 8:00, and we walked over around 7:30. We passed by a bar, and Liz said, "You wanna get a drink?" and then she saw my face and said, "Oh, you want to go right in, we'll go right in." So we went in and went to the bathroom. Liz says, "Wow, we have 20 minutes!" I realized that Liz had never been early to anything before, and she was surprised and sort of didn't know what to do. I showed her how we could sit down without having to rush, and look at all the people, and chat. She got a Guinness for $8.

We sat down and looked at all the people, and chatted, and waited. And waited. And at 8:30, an announcer came on and said that George's plane was delayed due to the rain, and he would be here soon, his plane had just landed. So we chatted some more, and round about 9:00, the announcer said, "George is in the building." And we all screamed. And waited some more, until he started.

Day Two of Haircut Newness. I'm learning some things.

I like my hair the day after I wash it. It falls flat, and it shrinks a little. When I had long hair, it wasn't that noticeable, but with this cut, it really is. It doesn't look so poofy.

My hair is flippy and flirty. And so light!

When I do wash it, I have to blow dry it a certain way, or the style looks all wrong in the back. It shouldn't really matter too much, though, because when someone is looking at you walking away, it's not your hair that they're looking at, if you catch my drift.

I don't hate my hair anymore. I can see myself like this for awhile.

Hair responses so far:

I love it!
I love it!
Nice hairdo!
Hey, Pageboy!
I llllllllllllove it!
It looks good, actually. (this from a friend who was against the haircut in the first place)
It looks better than what you had before!
[blank stare] (this from my cat)

Gone Today

Well, I did it. I showed Anthony a bunch of pictures, and he cut it like I said I wanted. But you know what? I don't want it anymore! I look like 1980's Vidal Sassoon! It's too preppy. It's not funky. It's not edgy. I don't like it.

I called up a bunch of friends, and Sophie was just in the neighborhood, so she came over and gave me her honest opinion. She loves it. She says it frames my face and makes me look brighter and not like a teenager, which is what I used to look like.

Now Liz is on her way over. I have great friends.

Okay. Liz loves it, and her daughter, who is 7 said, "Nice hairdo!" If my hair passes muster with a 7 year old, I think I'll be okay. It's been 4 hours. I'm getting used to it. I guess it's not so bad. Comments? Comments?

Tough Toy

At my school, we hardly ever buy toys or throw them away. People donate toys to us, and when they break, we fix them. Until the bitter end. I've learned to repair things after more than 10 years of watching my co-workers do it. Many toys have been kept for years after I would have thrown them away.

One toy that I have kept fixing year after year that really should be gotten rid of is a Fisher Price toy airplane. The door is gone, the tail is missing, there's no window. A few years ago I wrote on the plane as a joke, after applying more duct tape to it. I created an airline, complete with a tagline: "Risky Airlines--We'll get you there...maybe." It stays in the block room, and the kids continue to play with it. We keep putting duct tape on the sharp parts, and I rewrite the RA slogan in black Sharpie pen. We'll keep that plane until it has to be grounded, and then we'll turn it into a museum.

Small Town Graffiti

Remember a post a few days ago, when I was talking about my hometown and my current town? Turns out you can take the girl out of NYC, but NYC will never be far behind.

Backstory: In the 80's, I was in high school, my brother John was a graffiti artist. My dad's apartment was where all my brother's friends would come and get high and hang out before they all went out "bombing". John's closet door was covered with spray paint and tags (Graffiti names), as was his loft bed.

One of the names in John's room was by a guy who was famous in the graffiti world. His name was Jon, and his tag was JonOne. He ran with the 156 All Stars crew, of West 156th St. in Manhattan. I met him a couple of times. He didn't hang out too much; he was older than the rest of us, and seemed like he had a lot going on.

Fast forward to last week. I was at an apartment in Brookline, coincidentally across the street from my workplace. I was there to meet a cat who I would be cat sitting while his family went to Europe for a week.

The "dad" and I went through an alleyway so he could show me where to dispose of trash. The alleyway was covered with graffiti. It was remarkable, first because it was graffiti in Brookline, but also because it was good graffiti in Brookline. Being one who is interested in graffiti because of my brother, I stopped to look at it closely. What I saw made me stop in my tracks. After chuckling at the images of cartoon characters Ren and Stimpy, I saw 156 All Stars at the bottom of the mural. "No way!" I exclaimed. I looked to the right, and there it was, JonOne, the one and only.

What in the world was JonOne doing in Brookline, Mass., population 57,000? When had he been there? Where did he go? I may never find out, but I am somehow comforted by a piece of my past, here in my present.

Nighty-Nite

Have you ever crawled into your loft bed at night, when it's dark, and you can't see anything, and your foot suddenly mushes into a pile of something that used to be in your cat's stomach and is now on your bed? And on your foot. Don't you hate that?

Me too.

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

I have an appointment with my regular stylist, Anthony. Saturday, July 26. I will show him the pictures of the woman who never called me back, and Anthony will cut my hair and make me look beautiful. No cheating, no guilt.

I'll have to say goodbye to cute styles like braids, but at least I have a picture.

Cry Me a River

My mother, god rest her soul, used to cry at the drop of a hat. When I was little, I didn't understand it, and when I got older, I was embarrassed by it. I'll never forget her crying when she took me to see Bambi; she cried in the beginning when Bambi's mother died in the forest fire.

I have inherited her confusing and annoying trait. It doesn't take much. In particular, I'm a sucker for watching people win things on TV. It doesn't matter whether someone won a new car on Oprah, a surprise makeover, or an award.

Just today I flipped on the TV and saw five minutes of a show about drama programs at local high schools. They had an award night, and one high school kept winning all the awards. After they announced that Framingham High School had won a fourth award, I was laughing at crying at the same time. This, after watching five minutes. Lord help me.

And don't even get me started on reunions. If I flip on a show where a brother and sister haven't seen each other in 30 years because of war, adoption, or some other circumstance, you better get your own box of tissues, 'cause I'll need a whole one for myself.

Fruit Flies, Be Gone!

I have fruit flies in my kitchen. This phenomenon is my least favorite part of summer. Fruit flies make my skin crawl.

Today I Googled "Fruit Fly Removal", and got a tip. You get a glass jar, put some vinegar and a couple of drops of dish washing liquid in it, and cover the jar tightly with plastic wrap. Tape the plastic wrap around the bottle for security, then poke a few holes in the top. Supposedly, the flies go in, but they don't come out.

I set it up, and after only a few minutes, the flies were swarming! A couple of slick flies went in and out, hmm...but we'll see what it looks like in the morning. When you get a bunch, you're supposed to either clean out the jar outside and do it all over, or else put the jar in the freezer. Wish me luck.

A Tale of Two Cities

Lazy Saturday. Just came in from the porch, where I was reading a book whilst gliding back and forth on the porch glider. My next door neighbors were in the communal yard, gardening. My across the street neighbor passed by and we commented on the lovely weather. A police car came by and stopped across the street, but it looked as though it was just passing through; maybe someone would offer the patrolman a nice glass of lemonade.

Where I live now sure is different from where I grew up. I was raised in New York City (photo, left). Back then, the population was just under 8 million people. Here in my town (photo, right), we have just over 57,000.

When I was a kid, pimps and prostitutes hung out on the corner of my street. I was exposed to some really nasty people. I'm sure we have serial killers and other undesirables where I live now, but you can also leave your backpack at the playground by mistake and find it 3 hours later, untouched. I know my neighbors, most of them well, many of them by sight.

Feels nice to let my guard down as an adult when I was always on the alert as a child.

Fat Stanley

I've been working out with my personal trainer, Steve, for 9 months now. Up to now, I never actually had a membership; I always just went to the gym, did my workout with Steve, then left.

About a week ago, I joined the gym. Every month, $48 will be automatically deducted from my bank account so that I can go to the gym and do my workouts myself, in addition to continuing work with Steve when needed. He thought I was ready for this months ago, but I wasn't ready to cut ties, and with my knee issue, my progress was put back a few steps.

Today was my first day of going by myself. I was so nervous, like the first day I ever went. I took a deep breath, got my mat, and did my routine. It was pretty crowded today, so there was a guy right next to me. He looked like the actor Stanley Tucci. Unfortunately, my peripheral vision was working really well, so I got a slight view of what he was doing. He kept grunting, and so help me god, he looked like he was in the middle of a sexual act! He was going up and down. I couldn't see exactly what he was doing, but I saw enough. I had to really focus so I wouldn't burst out laughing.

I did my usual thing, then added whatever I remembered, and finished with the bike. The first time I ever did the bike I did it for 5 minutes. I quickly moved up to 10 minutes, and I felt like that was a pretty good workout, got my heart pumping enough. I've done 10 minutes about 5 times.

Today, by myself, I did 15 minutes, moving the level from 6 to 7, thank you very much. My face was very hot and red, and sweat was actually dripping down my face, which was a totally new experience for me. When I got off the bike, I found that the entire gym was tilted a little and pulled toward the right. I told Steve, and he told me to sit down. Then he said, "You did great, Alex." Sigh. He knows I still need praise for the littlest thing. I'm like a 3 year-old.

I'm proud of myself for taking this first independent step at the gym. I'm going back tomorrow; I hope Stanley won't be there.

p.s. That hairstylist I met on the street yesterday hasn't called me back yet.

Thinking About an Impulse

Recently someone asked if I was a risk taker. I said no, unless it has to do with my appearance. I'll change my look drastically at the drop of a hat. Well, that's not entirely true. I'll think about the change for months before actually doing it. I don't tell anyone, so when I do it, it looks like an impulse when it's really not. That's how it was when I got my eyebrow pierced, when I got my first huge tattoo, and now, when I believe I'm on the brink of another change.

I've been thinking about cutting my hair for a long time. My original goal was to have hair like a mermaid, all the way down my back, but it's taken me years, and I still haven't fulfilled that dream. It's hard to take care of all that hair, and it's getting so grey in the front that when I put it up I feel like a granny. I like the grey, but I need a new style. This goes along with my "Self What Not To Wear" makeover. I want a funky cut.

I've seen a few women who have the look I want, and have taken a picture or two, but just a few hours ago, I saw exactly what I wanted. This woman was walking down Newbury Street with two friends, and she had "The Hair." I stopped her and asked her if I could take a picture of her hair because I was thinking about cutting mine. What a coincidence! Turns out, she's a stylist and she's looking for hair models. She works at Vidal Sassoon. I can get her exact cut for $20.

I took her card and took a picture, just in case I decide to go my stylist to get it done. But he won't know exactly how it is, even from the picture, which wasn't that great. Thing is, I've been with my stylist, Anthony, for 15 years. I've cheated on him twice, and I always feel awful afterwards. He always takes me back.

I want to go to that woman, but I am wracked with guilt. It's not like she would be giving me a trim. This is a major cut, just past my chin. I'll send him flowers. I'll tell him what I did. I'll beg him to understand.

As soon as I got home, I called this woman, Jessie, and asked if she was available tomorrow. If I'm going to take the plunge, I'm going to do it immediately. She hasn't called back yet. Let's hope she takes me. Let's hope I like it. Let's hope Anthony has forgiveness in his heart, yet again.

Catalog Touch

I am obsessed with sporty Mary Jane style shoes. I pore over my athletic catalogs and play "Catalog Touch". Ever play it? That's when you go through a catalog and touch everything you want, whether or not you can afford it. Variations include "Catalog Fold", where you fold down a page, and "Catalog Circle", where you circle everything you want. I play these games all week long, and rarely order anything. Recently I even played "Catalog Circle/Ask Friend", where I circled everything, then had a friend go through and tell me if it would be a good purchase for me or not. Her notes were helpful ("Don't you own enough cropped pants already?").

Anyway, sporty Mary Janes are my latest desire. One day I might actually buy a pair. Till then, I've got a stack of five catalogs to go through. And ooh! My neighbor is on vacation for three weeks, and I'm picking up her mail...

Locker Room Lady

I went to the gym today and had a good workout. Afterwards, in the locker room, there was a woman who was red in the face and sweaty. She peeled off her workout clothes and wiped herself down with a hand towel. She didn't even take a shower! She just got dressed in a new outfit and put her sweaty hair into a ponytail. Gross! Who does something like that?

Me. Yes, I was the woman with the perspiring ponytail. I bust my ass to get to the gym at 7:30 AM as it is, and I'd have to wake up that much earlier to have enough time to take a shower before heading off to work. I've decided to take my showers at night on workout days. I'm sweaty, so what. I burn 50 calories every time I get on the bike.

Now excuse me while I eat my dessert before my evening shower.

Happy Cat

Happy Birthday, Shelby! She's 12 years old today, and looks just like a kitten. Must be the catnip. A few weeks ago, I was at Mike and Lisa's house. Lisa was showing me the garden, and picked off some kind of plant. She said she thought it was catnip. I put it in my pocket to give to Shelby later.

I gave it to her when I got home, and sure enough, she started writhing on the floor in ecstasy (see photo, right).

Later on, I went up to the loft to take a nap. Shelby followed, and got into nap position, under the covers. We settled down. Suddenly, I felt a scratching and biting at my jeans. Shelby, mild-mannered slug-feline, was attacking me! She would not stop. It finally dawned on me that there was catnip residue in my pocket. I replaced my jeans with something less trippy, and we resumed our nap.

Here's to Shelby, my happy catnappy pappy. Happy Birthday!

Local Graffiti

Shorts and Socks

I have so many photos I've wanted to post, but many of them go by the wayside. This summer, I'm going to try and post all those photos I've taken. Here's a recent one. I was at some friends' for dinner. M and D were talking in the kitchen, and I noticed their shorts and socks. So cute.

Ticket, please!

Saw this sign at a parking garage where you're supposed to get a ticket to pick up your car. That's one big ass ticket.

Post #400--Batman's Lair?

This is the door to a house in my neighborhood. Isn't it the coolest? It looks like Batman lives here, with those lights. And see how there's no number? Batman's house doesn't need a number.