Tag Archives: pink hair

Fryday, Fryday, gonna get down on Fryday.

6 Jul

One of my friends took a picture of this poster ad on their cell phone in Philadelphia. A picture is worth a thousand words.

Yes, Jermaine. It is you “they” are looking for. “They” being the state police, of course. Creep.

Kidding. It’s Lionel Richie. Still.

As you may or may not know, I am a roof salesman. Therefore, I deal with several crews of roofers on the daily who build the jobs I sell. One of our newest crews is a bunch of guys from Kyrgyzstan which is in Central Asia. One of the main religions in Kyrgyzstan is Islam, so most of these guys are Muslim.

This particular crew of men has been working on the roof of the house that I currently rent and live in for the last couple of days, and I have noticed that when I take my dog outside and he goes near them, most of them avoid coming near him and act like he’s carrying the plague. They won’t pet him or play with him or give him any attention of any kind. I Googled “Muslims and dogs” out of curiosity. This is what I found.

Muhammad made strange and harsh statements about dogs and these edicts affect dogs in a tragic way. Muslims render dogs as unclean, “impure” and worse. Per Muhammad’s orders most dogs were to be killed and all dogs of a specific color (black) had to be killed. Then Allah’s apostle forbade their killing. He said: “It is your duty to kill the jet-black (dog) having two spots (on the eyes) for it is a devil.”

This is my dog:

.Raleigh = Satan.

You learn something new every day.

I watched Clash of the Titans last night. Imagine waking up with one of those gourd creatures in your bed after a night at the bars.


I watched one single episode of Freaky Eaters on TLC, and I think that was enough. The particular episode I viewed was of Eric Willmann, “The Fry Guy.” Eric eats virtually nothing but french fries. He remains a normal weight. This is my dream come true. Sure, he’s got heart disease and cholesterol higher than teenagers at a Bob Marley concert, but if I could count how many times I’ve said, “I wish it were feasible for me to eat nothing but McDonald’s french fries for the rest of my life without morphing into Kirstie Alley,” I’d be driving a Rolls Royce.

Anyway, the point is, the show is unbelievably dramatic, the hosts are terrible, and Eric doesn’t understand the definition of “active.” He said, and I quote, “I’m very active. I skateboard at LEAST once a week, if not twice.”

Okay, Eric. I’m VERY charitable. I’ve added a $1 donation to my PetSmart purchase at LEAST once, if not twice. Let’s not get carried away.

For those of who have been on edge, biting your nails, wondering how my hair fiasco is progressing, let me just say this: I just took a shower and shampooed the shit out of my hair not once, but twice, using at least a metric ton of Garnier Fructis, and even after the second rinse of shampoo AND rinsing out the conditioner that followed, the tub was filled with bright pink sudsy bubbles. It looked like someone sprayed the Pink Panther with a hose.


So, that’s what’s going on with my noggin. Thanks for stopping by.


“I want you to trim the fat.”


“I want you to fire all the fat people.”


Hook, line, & sinker.

5 Jul

Things have been getting REALLY steamy in my bedroom lately, and it’s not because there’s S&M involved. The summer temperatures are steadily climbing upward, reaching unbearably humid and torturous levels. My air-conditioning-less apartment is 500 degrees. It’s not right. My living room is like a giant crock pot. It’s like one big slow cooker, and I am the pot roast. The vultures are circling overhead. It’s only a matter of time before the heat takes us all.

We actually did finally get one of those LG space air conditioning units for our bedroom at least. I am a Caucasian. I can’t sleep in any room that is above 68 degrees. I prefer a chill 65, but I’m attempting to be somewhat energy-efficient.

Actually, Trent just bitches at me when I put it below 68. I would willingly fork out all of my income for a frigid room. Also, I care about my comfort far more than I care about the environment. Sorry, pandas.


I really jacked up my exquisite auburn locks. I accidentally dyed my hair Rihanna red last night. I look like a firefighting lesbian. It’s not great. Actually, it’s really bad. Instead of going with my usual L’Oreal Feria color, I chose a redder shade, hoping it would be a sharper auburn color. Instead it turned out to be fire engine crimson. It bled into my blonde highlights, and now my hair is pink. I look like a troll with a bleeding scalp.


Seriously. I look like I went to the state fair and got cotton candy stuck in my hair, and then someone pulled a Carrie on me.


It’s like I dyed my hair in my sleep and used Pepto Bismol instead of L’Oreal.

I think you get the idea.

I guess the only thing I’ve got to redeem my trashy hair do at this time is my “bubbly” personality.


It was a bubble gum hair joke. Bubble gum is pink. Like my hair.


SO. Moving forward. A lesson for this week, besides the obvious hair coloring fiasco that I hope you learned from:

Anchor belly button ring


Netted loofah



It might not be a real anchor, but it certainly works like one. You can’t get lazy with the lathering when you’ve got a fish hook in your navel. That thing hooked my loofah like a rainbow trout on a fly rod. I did not suffer any real painful consequences, but it was a good scare.

WELL, time to go. I hope you all had a miserable time reading this. I’ll be off to compare my hair with Pink’s.


“I drank for sixteen hours yesterday. My head hurts from that, and also because I slammed my face into a checkerboard table last night.”