Satirical Snapshots Bringing You Whimsy On A Wednesday On A Thursday!
Yesterday I was in the hair salon for five hours.
I could be halfway to America in that time.
I know I’ve got a fair amount of hair but that’s just ridiculous.
There was a point where I seemed to be laying at the basin for hours. I don’t remember how many times they washed my hair but it seemed somewhat excessive and they had to put the massage chair on 4 times because it ran through its cycle. Now, this might sound nice but not when laying down with all the pressure on your neck. It cuts off the blood supply. There were times when I nearly passed out. I don’t know, maybe I did and that’s why it took so bloody long.
“Have you booked a summer holiday?” This is hairdresser speak for I’ve got sod all else to chat about.
“No. But maybe I should because by the time I get out of here I’ll have missed the boat.!”
“I know. You’ve been here for ages!”
“You noticed! Those 5 inches of my tresses that have been cut off might have grown back by the time we’re done here and it’ll all have to be done again!”
“Ha ha ha!”
By the time I stood up I nearly had a seizure.
“I’ve forgotten how to walk.”
“It’s OK, I’m just going to take you over to this chair here…”
Please. NO. JUST. LET. ME. GO.
“I’ve just got to put this treatment on. It’s in two stages.”
“Can I please sit up.”
“No. It might sting your eyes.”
“So this fandabidozi treatment you’re putting on will make my hair like a curtain of golden glory but can also make me blind?”
“It’s very potent. It stays in your hair for up to 13 shampoos.”
“Good. Because I won’t be washing it again until June. Wait…It IS June…”
I began to wonder if I was in a different part of space-time and had been captured by aliens. Maybe I thought I was at a hair salon, but in fact, had been taken away in one of the Chariots of the Gods. They say that when you think of something it happens, and lately I’ve spent far too much time listening to Erich Von Dëniken and waiting for aliens to return in a swanky spaceship to take me to Planet Party.
But this is no party.
And time does not speed here.
Game of Thrones
Sat on one long enough so I should be the ruler of something.
Maybe I’m still caught in that programme I took part in on Netflix.
Bandersnatch. Where you choose your own adventure.
See, some bright spark thought I’d like this so off I went to see. It’s a short film where you can pick what happens next. This is so utterly stressful because I need to know what happens in every possible scenario. Ergo, the short film lasts for hours and hours if you’re me. Especially if, like me, you try and trick it by picking the same answers in case something different happens.
Perhaps I missed this part where the kid ends up in an alien salon fighting for his life to get out of the chair and out of the door to freedom.
Shave head – OR – stay in the salon
Shave it! PLEASE! I don’t care anymore.
“I’ve just got to leave that on for ten minutes…” Which is hairdresser speak for we’re not ready for you yet because you missed your blow-dry time slot. It was 3 hours ago. Now you have to wait until the other client is done.
“You know that sitting down kills you?” I said.
Am I dead? Is this Hell’s Hairdressers?
It’s funny because just the other day someone told me it takes 20-30 seconds for your brain to cut off after you’ve died. So, that means you can still hear people for that long once you’ve been pronounced a gonner.
What a horrible thing to tell me. Which, I made quite clear to the teller.
Imagine that, though. There you are, dead, and all you can hear is crying (if you’re lucky) and wailing or, other things:
“Never liked her anyway…”
“Never mind, she’s gone now. Shall we have a pizza?”
I was very upset about this information. I have since informed many people that if they are at my side when I slip off the dish they must converse with me in a normal manner for at least 40 seconds so I ease out gently and don’t panic.
Otherwise, I’m coming back in my spaceship with guns.
All that said, I managed to escape the salon before midnight with very lovely hair despite terrible whiplash caused by basin brutality.