Anna S. (eliade) wrote,
Anna S.
eliade

I may be wearing a fuzzy hat...

I went to get my hair done today and the colorist did a great job, and then I went to the stylist. I sat there for over 30 minutes chatting with her, my glasses off, and then I put my glasses on and cried. WHAT IS IT WITH HAIR STYLISTS? Seriously. I apologize to any stylists out there, but what planetary language do all those *others* of your kind speak? Because it isn't English. Every time I go to one, I describe what I want. Point it out in magazines. Draw *pictures*. And every time I get the exact same haircut, which in no way resembles what I want. This time, though--she just went too far. She cut some more of the topiary disaster off, and it got better, but by then I'd pretty much stopped speaking to her. It was an academy salon for advanced training, and she was graduating that day, and her haircuts were part of her final. I started off wishing her well, but by the end of it all...not so much.

I then went and bought make-up and ate toasted cheese on bread and I'm feeling a bit calmer now.

In other crappy news, my physical trainer has parted ways with the gym I go to. I can't blame her: it sucks. They wanted her to shill lousy vitamin supplements as part of the new "upgraded" training package, and they wanted everyone to make quotas. She wouldn't do it. I love her. I'm hoping she'll get a job at another gym she's been mentioning, and I hope to follow her there. I'd just renewed a training package though, for several hundred dollars paid in pre-dated installments. If they get unreasonable, I'm going to have to stop payment on checks and hope that they don't put the matter into collections. Fuckers. Can I just say that this is a gym where, three weeks ago, a woman reached up to adjust the volume on one of their suspended TVs, and it fell on her, and she lay there for over half an hour with the thing on her chest, yelling for help--and no one heard because she was in the lower women's gym, and it was unattended and no one else was there, and their shitty music was playing so loud upstairs that her yells didn't reach them. I am so not kidding either.

This week has kind of sucked. I am going to go out with some people at work now and hang, and then I want to go home and find that the slash fairy visited while I was gone, leaving a shiny new brilliant twenty-thousand word story on my pillow, filled with sweetness and angst and hotness. I wag my puppy tail hopefully at the universe and beg it for biscuits love. Sometimes things balance out, sometimes there is fortunate timing....
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