2001-03-27 - 09:49 p.m.
I�ve become such a girl about my hair, it�s not even funny. I go to the Body Shop in Fascist Valley tonight to get some of their banana shampoo--the only type I�ve found that is exactly right for my hair and yet doesn�t leave me smelling like a perfumed freak--and they�re out of it. After they told me over the phone that they�d just gotten a new shipment. So I buy the brazil nut shampoo instead (which smells ok, but leaves my hair kind of dry), take a bunch of the random free crap that the chyk behind the counter pushes at me, and head home all dejected. You�d think I�d just broken a nail or something.
I can�t help it--I like my hair. Unlike most of the other males in my family, I still have all of it. And it�s going gray, but slowly, and in that distinguished, cherry-red-Porsche-and-a-blonde-mistress frosting on the temples sort of way. My pride in my hair makes up for all my other shitty body-image issues, so I like to take care of it.
Anyway, I�m waiting for the elevator. Standing next to me are a husband and wife bitching about how slow the elevator�s taking. They quickly start to annoy me, seeing as there are only two levels in the mall and the reason the elevator is so slow to start with is that lazy lardasses like these two can�t be bothered to use those nifty inventions called STAIRS that anyone with two good legs can use to get from one level to another.
I�m about to crush both their insteps under my wheels when the husband has an idea: "Honey, I�m tired of waiting--let�s take the stairs." Honey doesn�t like this idea--it�s late and she�s tired and he�s not the one who had to drive Dylan to soccer practice today and waah waah waah--but she acquiesces. At first, anyway. I can hear them crabbing at each other all the way down to the first landing.
At this point my annoyance has ceased and all I can think to myself is, Thank God I�m not married.
They stop. More crabbing, louder this time. Finally the wife says, "Look, the elevator�s coming--let�s just go back up, please?" and it�s Hubby�s turn to cave in. Up they go, back up the stairs, into the elevator.
OK. Bear in mind that they were already halfway down the stairs by the time they decided to turn back. I ask you, do people like this have any kind of awareness of how stupid they look? Do they even care? Are they planning to reproduce? If so, could NASA please hurry up the space program so I don�t have to share the same planet with their offspring when they�re old enough to drive and vote?
They probably were the ones who bought up the last of the banana shampoo, too.
Bastards.
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