Oh my god, you guys, you will not believe what happened to Chewboken today. It is utterly horrible and awful and some bitch is gonna pay. I mean, it's warranted stomping around in louder fashion than usual and shouting and lots of angry grunting, so much so that the roommates and I, who are in opposite ends of the apartment, have gotten the story just by sitting here and overhearing it without even trying to listen. I mean, I know it sucks to get a bad haircut but...Oh, I'm sorry, did I mention that? Yes, a bad haircut has warranted about as much rage and indignation as...I don't even know what.
Obviously, it's never going to grow back or anything, because he went on for at least a half hour about it.
As Carolyn yelled, "What do you want? She's a hairdresser, not a magician," then rolled her eyes and muttered "Somebody run upstairs and bring a box tampons."
Melissa: "Apparently they're all on the same cycle, just like us!"
Chewboken: STOMP! STOMP! STOMP! "God damn it! Fuck!" STOMP! STOMP! STOMP!
Maybe it's because I'm a girl and I've been exposed more to bad moments at the hands of a salon, but it's usually because I OK'd them to cut a little more than I'd like or went for something different without really thinking about it -- a hairdresser is only partially to blame, and if it's that bad, you get it fixed. Or you just deal. Sure, I'd sigh a bit when I got home, but after a few washings, it's usually back to some form of normal, and will be back to all normal in a matter of time -- and my hair is more than a half an inch long, thus LONGER TO GROW OUT THAN A DUDE'S and I have indeed lived to tell the tale.
Maybe because he's a guy he has no idea how to deal with these new, confusing emotions that come with a bad hairdo. But good lord, he'd better look like Pepe effing Lepew for all his freaking out. Because I don't think I've ever heard ANY girl I know rail for as long and as loud as Chewboken did this evening about a haircut. I think he's STILL going off about it, if the rumbling coming from upstairs is any indication...
And thus concludes this chapter of Masterpiece Theatre, Hoboken style. Come back next week when we visit the next installment: The Awkward Growing-Out Phase.