Tag Archives: humor

High tech hair?

 

So I’m an 80’s girl.

I grew up with MTV,  parachute pants and yes…

Big hair.

 

 

Okay, not that big.

But it’s fair to say I went through a considerable amount of hair spray in that decade and did my part to widen the hole in the ozone layer.

Fashions may have changed….

 

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But my  naturally curly hair still requires a  vat of industrial adhesive and a trowel  bit of work.

I’m always on the look out for new products and stumbled across this the other day:

 

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Helmet Head sounded about right, so I bought it.

But what did Cationic Hydration Interlink mean?

Definition of cationic. 1 : of or relating to cations. 2 : characterized by an active and especially surface-active cation. a cationic dye.

Thanks for nothing Webster.

Wikipedia?

Cationic polymerization is a type of chain growth polymerization in which a cationic initiator transfers charge to a monomer which then becomes reactive. This reactive monomer goes on to react similarly with other monomers to form a polymer.

 

 

Beyond confused, I went to the source.

 

 

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Proof positive that even the company who produces it has no clue what the heck it is.

Well, you can string a bunch of science terms together and stamp sucker on my forehead, but that’s okay.

 

 

It’s the price we girls pay for looking good.

 

 

Now they’re just screwing with me.

 

I live in Maine, land of the lobster I can no longer eat.

 

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It’s a cruel twist of fate which came about 7 years ago. I’d eaten that glorious, butter dripping crustacean all my life and loved every scrumptious bite…. until my traitorous body woke up one day and said no more.

No more lobster chowder, no more lobster rolls, no more lobster pie…. hell they hadn’t even invented lobster mac and cheese yet so I missed that too, damn it!  (I’ll spare you the details of what happens if I eat it now, just think Linda Blair in the Exorcist and leave it at that.)

It’s not easy being lobster allergic in Maine, the damned things are everywhere.

On our license plates…

 

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At every biker rally we attend…

 

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See?

 

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That’s me… cursing everyone for eating  lobster when I can’t …. not sitting at the table.

Hell, we even have a festival devoted to the creature.

 

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They crown a queen who leads the parade with King Neptune.

 

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Everyone eats lobster.

Except me.

 

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(I can’t attend anymore. The husband says drool isn’t my best feature)

Yes, we take our lobster seriously up here and I’ve  railed against fate, banged my head against the wall, invented new swear words   learned to live without it.

So why?

Why does that damned bottom dwelling bug continue to screw with me?

Yesterday… this showed up in our local grocery stores.

 

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And if that’s not bad enough…

A friend sent me this card.

 

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Now that’s just…  wrong.

 

 

Have you ever done this?

 

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I know better, and yet…..

Stomach rumbling, I sashay up and down the aisles tossing  HoHo’s and Ring Dings in my shopping cart at will.

(If they called them Cellulite Starters and Butt Wideners I wouldn’t, so you see…. it’s really not my fault.)

I buy salad tossers I’ll never toss, fizzy fruited drinks I’ll never drink and worst of all…. more deli meat and cheese than a school cafeteria will use in a month.

Oh, the pressure of the deli counter!

You take a number, wait in line, peruse the 307 varieties of flavored sliced turkey breast and when it’s finally your turn? You can’t just order a 1/4 lb of roast beef and call it good…. can you?

(Well I can’t. Which is why you should all come to my house for lunch tomorrow. BYOB. Bring your own bread…. because I never seem to buy the correct corresponding amount.)

And the paper products!

Why can’t I ever remember if I need them? I always buy too many which results in episodes like this:

 

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Note to self –

Never leave the closet door ajar when you’ve purchased too much Charmin.

 

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To say he enjoyed it would be an understatement.

 

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The beast was positively orgasmic.

And none too eager to relinquish his prize as I cleaned up around him.

 

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Moral of the story?

Buying too much at the grocery store can not only be wasteful and expensive….

But bloody as well.

50 is the new 30?

Not even close.

Everything started to go downhill on me at that age…. literally and figuratively.

Now at 55?

I may not look it, but I feel it.

Back pain?  (I used to be able to bend like a pretzel, what the hell happened?)

Unexplained aches and stiffness?  ( Groaning upon rising from a seated position is not sexy.  Not at all. )

Fatigue for no good reason?  (Thank you menopause, as if the damned hot flashes aren’t bad enough.)

And let’s not talk about the weight gain, bunions and hair sprouting where hair has never sprouted before.

Really.

Let’s not!