Why Steel Magnolias wasn’t set in a Commune

Things are moving right along here. had a crazy granola freak woman in my chair saturday. last client, right? long ass funky commune hair. brings in her own plastic sack of shit, shampoo that smells like a nursing home, burts bees conditioner, other asundries that I know nothing about…and she’s got some sort of bandage on her nose and all around her face is this yellowish last stage of a bruise thing going on. during the consultation, she says she ususally cuts her own hair, so it may be a little crooked. honey, it was like a friikin road map it was so crooked and jacked up. so we settle on what to cut, and proceed to the shampoo, where she tells me she’s moved from nashville, she’s a singer/songwriter here for school….i’m thinking OCU , OU someplace known for it’s music department. nope. Rose State, a community college here.

THE HELL? I ask her about the nose thing and she said it fractured when she got hit by a gourd.

a gourd.

i just moved right on.

then she says she did five months in “beauty’ school. and i need to shampoo twice, and honey use a little water and that shampoo will suds right up. meanwhile, under my breath in my soul i’m pulling a yosemite sam tanget.

frick fracken fricken frack. . .

we go back to my staiton, and I proceed with the cutting. fine. no prob. we already know granola commune girl is NOT gonnna leave looking any better than she came in. I finish with, you dont use styiling products? NO. so you don’t want me to use any? NO. picking up the blow dryer and she screeches,

NO. DO NOT USE THAT. my hair is so fine that it will just scorch it up

okaaaaaaaaay. putting the blow dryer back into it’s slot.

frickken frack frickken frack.

she then wants me to “cut some little pieces on top to make it stand up and give it volume” well. for one thing, with fourteen feet of hair, crystal gale anyone? it’s so heavy aint nuthin gonna make it full on the crown.
for another. . . fricken frack fricken frack.
So, I cut just a teensy bit of texture into it and begin to let her get out of my chair. no she wants more. I say, No. I won’t do it. your hair is wet, I dont texturize wet hair, there’s no way for me to tell how it will lay, where the weight is, anything… a big possibility i’ll cut a hole into it and I just won’t do it.
She says, well, can I got outside and sit for 25 minutes and let the sun dry it and come back in for you to do it?

Sweet Myrtle.

Nope. I say, you’re my final client and while I’d love to be able to do this for you, I have a wedding this evening and won’t be able to stay past my shift. She sighs the heaviest sigh that only those lost souls of the damed have inside them and says go ahead and dry it but DONT USE ANY HEAT. IT WILL SCORCH.

God, just take me now. Reach down and set me on fire. Take me out of this life.

But not really, because if that would have happened, I’d have missed this!

We go up to the front desk for her to pay, I thank her for letting me do her hair. I DO NOT give her a business card, cuz…I don’t wanna. and I walk away. Immediatly, they call my manager to the front desk, where granola girl has pulled out some I swear to the hair gods, grease. stinkey horse tail hoof growing grease that she’s putting into her hair at the front desk. . . while she wants to ask him about GOING BLONDE Becaue all the men at the bars around here only pay attention to blondes and not brunettes and can he guarantee she won’t walk out of there with frizzy hair…..Travis just looks at her and says, If you’re that concerned, you don’t need to do it. We really won’t do it, so just let it go. FORGET ABOUT IT CRAZY WOMAN!!!

she did tip me five bucks though.

surprising.