Worst. Haircut. EVER.

So I know it’s my own fault because I always look for the absolute cheapest haircut I can find. I was doing so great in Greenpoint; Oralis did a great job, really knew my hair, and best of all, wasn’t too talkative. (Believe it or not, I really prefer a limited amount of conversation when I’m getting my hair cut.) Not to mention that the salon was located near the most amazing donut shop.

Then one day I called to schedule, and was told that Oralis had moved to Miami. Next haircut I got with the owner, so that was fine, but then after that there was a New Guy. Some of you may remember the lovely line on my neck where his clippers had dug in. I went back one more time after that, but skipped the clippers. Then it was back to Supercuts, because coupons!

Supercuts has been hit or miss, which is fine because it’s what I’m used to my entire life. Cheap haircut, might come out okay, might not come out that great, but hey, cheap haircut!!!

So tonight I walked in and there were two people working, neither of whom I had seen before. At first glance, I knew who I hoped would be cutting my hair.

Spoiler alert: I got the other one.

I thought we started out okay, until I realized that she was cutting one side of my hair shorter than the other. Okay, maybe she’ll fix it. I had asked to have the bottom back cut with a #3 clipper, and at first I don’t think she sliced me (that came later). Her scissors were dull, though, to the point that she commented, “I don’t know what’s going on with these scissors”. Ummm…you cut hair. I would think good scissors would be important… but what do I know?!

I was watching to see if she was going to even out the sides, sensing that this was not going to end well. At this point, I have to admit that I was excited because I knew this was going to be a great story…

I should mention that when I sat down, she actually didn’t start cutting my hair for a few minutes because she was listening to this radio show that was on and wanted to hear what was happening. No biggie, I didn’t have to be anywhere, but still.

She was talkative, but more “TMI” than awkward. First she had her diatribe about the radio bit (woman caught her husband cheating; cue “all men are awful” commentary, which I don’t disagree, but it was a little awkward with the male stylist cutting a man’s hair right next to us). This led to a conversation about how rich this woman was going to get when she divorced her cheating husband. Yada yada yada, different stories about money and the other stylist chiming in about how people who get a lot of money usually blow it. He gave two examples of this, one of a kid who didn’t do right by his mother, and she glommed on to that statement, saying “Your parents are pretty much the next thing to God, since they gave you life”. Now, she wasn’t saying this directly to me, but as you can imagine, I felt slightly attacked, especially when she quoted the 4th commandment in its entirety. But oh well, she didn’t know.

From there, the conversation trailed off, and she started talking about how tired she was. “I feel like I’m about to fall over…ha ha ha, I don’t even know what I’m doing with your hair!” (this while she was working on the back of my head, which turned out to be the least of my problems.) “I’m so tired; I’m beyond exhausted.”

I mentioned above that she hadn’t shredded my neck; however, towards the end she seemed to be haphazardly swiping at the back of my neck with the clippers.

And yep, that’s exactly what she was doing:


close-up of back of neck nicked by clippers

(meh, it’s just a flesh wound…)

But then she continued… “shaping”?! the sides. Still had the clippers out, and it’s hard to see from the pictures, but she did some random jagged thing on both sides (which I think are probably still not the same length anyway). She went beyond the pink part of my face (the part that sees the sun) and shaved past that to where I am now going to have to strategically apply sunscreen.

(I can’t get a good picture of it, but the primary problem with this haircut is what she did to the sides. Because I don’t KNOW what she did to the sides. Or why she did it. Or how she has a hairdresser’s license…but I digress.)

Close-up of side of head with uneven haircut

And then there was the front of the hair, which she really didn’t cut at all…but the way things were going, I didn’t think it was wise to request that she continue cutting.

top of woman's face with hair covering eyes

So much grey…

As I sit here, I am still in a bemused sort of shock, because seriously, this is probably the worst haircut I’ve ever had. And I don’t even know how or where I would begin to get it remedied, especially the fiasco with the sides.

But I have a feeling getting it fixed will probably cost more than $20…

Ah, it’ll grow.

The Pigeon Man of Ocean Parkway

Part of the adventure of living in a new neighborhood is in getting to know what kind of people you are surrounded by. When I moved in April, I was in a position where I ran out of time and felt like I had to “settle” for this apartment/location. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a lovely neighborhood-but that’s just it. It’s a little TOO lovely for me. And not just because I don’t have a Target within walking distance, although that doesn’t help…

It’s fine, and it’s convenient, and safe, and it’s where I live, at least for now. But it lacks a certain grit or character that I would hope for in a neighborhood. Or at least I thought it did…

People still post signs on street light poles, which also gives you a sense of who is around you. No “se rentan cuartos” signs here; instead, there is a sign asking for the return of a lost scooter. The naive optimism of the person who posted this boggles my mind. First of all, that’s not how you spell “stolen”…

Another sign advertising a lice remedy was posted on a pole directly across from the local elementary school. Well-played.

But the sign that really caught my eye was this one:

Ah, yes. Of course they call him “the Pigeon Man”. I had seen him once or twice near the park. It’s hard not to notice someone who has managed to connect with winged rats Bert’s favorite bird so seamlessly. The pigeons would land on his arm and were literally eating right out of his hand. I was too intrigued by him at the time to be grossed out.

A few weeks later, the sign appeared. Forgetting for a split second that pigeons are rats with wings, I was angry, annoyed. It’s remarkable, really, what he does. Who is it really hurting? Besides the whole “carrying disease” thing, I mean. But that doesn’t distinguish them in any way from the subway railing or your morning coffee. It’s New York, kids. Build up that immunity.

All was not lost, however. A week after the first sign appeared, I was walking to the train and noticed there had been a slight edit…

I guess there’s hope for my new neighborhood yet. Like they say, you can’t keep a good (pigeon) man down…

This isn’t really a post about New York…

…but it’s too long for a Facebook status, and I want to feel like I actually do blog sometimes.

Today was my day off (I work 6 days a week now if I can help it) and I wanted to accomplish a few things:

  • Use my $5 coupon at Famous Footwear
  • Get my free pretzel from Auntie Anne’s
  • Get my free slice of pizza at Sbarro
  • Get my free drink from Panera
  • Get a chair massage (a rare guilty pleasure. If I took fewer Lyft rides, I could get more massages. I should remember that.)
  • Maybe get an eye exam and some new glasses

(As some of you know, I am not big on celebrating my birthday, but I am all about the free stuff!)

Figured out before I left the house that there was no longer a Panera at the mall I was going to, so I was prepared for that. Bought some cheap (because flat) seltzer at the bodega on the way to the bus stop.

Wandered into H&M, found some cheap Christmas earrings, went into Old Navy and dove into the mega clearance section…once I came out of my stupor, I continued on through the mall. Came across an Auntie Anne’s kiosk and got my free pretzel…sat down to eat it right across from the massage place, thinking how wonderful it was going to be and debating whether I wanted the ten-minute or the fifteen-minute version. But first, Macy*s…and an ATM, since the massage place had a “cash only” sign, and I’m not organized enough to have gone to the bank beforehand.

There was a place in the mall that takes my vision insurance, so I stopped in to browse, but I wasn’t happy with the selection of frames. (My super-indecisive self wants to be somewhere that has a zillion frames to choose from, so I can drive myself batty not being able to decide. But that’s another blog entry entirely.)

After finding a promising pair of shoes, then spending some time wandering through Macy*s, I eagerly headed over to the massage place. I was pretty pleased with myself. How smart I was to save the massage for last, so that I could go home feeling relaxed and blissful.

It was 7:39pm when I got to them.

The mall is open until 9.

They. were. closed.

In disbelief, I asked one of the guys (who was clearly packing up), “Are you closed?” He looked at me blankly; I don’t think he spoke English. So he’s probably trafficked* and I’m an evil person for getting my massages from this place.

*not trafficked in the gross sexual way – this was out in the middle of the mall, after all – but in the sense of having to move here and work a zillion hours a day and live in a house with 52 other people. Still evil, I know.

Sigh. One of the main reasons for my outing, and I missed out due to poor timing and an hour spent wandering in Macy*s when I was too tired to try anything on anyway.

“Oh well”, I said to myself. “I can at least go get my free slice of pizza before I head home”. Besides the pretzel and the flat seltzer, I had eaten only a carrot, some Linden’s Fudge Chip cookies, and a honey bun so far today. So off I went…ordered my slice, then decided I should tell him that I had a coupon, just in case.

“We don’t take those coupons.” I resisted the urge to yell, “WHAT KIND OF FREE-BIRTHDAY-FOOD-HATING MONSTERS ARE YOU?!” and instead calmly walked away.

I don’t even eat Sbarro in NY (I allowed it when I lived in Michigan, as it was a reasonable facsimile of the real thing). But I do love free. The only other Sbarro I know of is the one at 34th St in Manhattan, but I don’t think it’s worth it for me to schlep there in the next few days.

The free Panera drink, however…ah, there’s one somewhat close to my job, and it expires tomorrow (the free drink expires, I mean, not my job), so maybe I’ll make my way over there and get one more freebie.

Anyway, that was my day in a nutshell, and now I don’t know how to end this, so I guess I’ll just say “thanks for reading” to anybody who has made it this far. I promise you that I am going to work on blogging more consistently this year, in which case you might get an entry that’s not too sucky or boring every so often! Yay!



I have good news and I have bad news…

The good news is: I got a job!
The bad news is: The pay is not great.

The good news is: It’s in Brooklyn!
The bad news is: It’s over an hour’s commute by bus, or via a very roundabout train ride.

The good news is: It’s in an industrial area, so lunch options nearby are way cheaper than they were in downtown Manhattan.
The bad news is: My shifts can be as short as 5 hours, so I  will not always have a full lunch break. Also, I should not be spending money on eating out.
The good news is: I will likely be getting closer to full-time hours as the holiday season approaches.
The bad news is: They don’t offer overtime. Ever.
The good news is: Because I will be working at least one weekend day, I can register to sub and should be able to pick up some assignments fairly easily.
The bad news is: I am 46 years old and still working two jobs.

The good news is: It’s an awesome company, and I think it will be fun to work there
The bad news is: It’s only seasonal.
The good news is: I am awesome enough that they just might keep me on long-term.
The good/bad news is: I get a 40% discount.

All in all, I’ll take it! Still applying for other things, but at least I will be out of the house!