Horrific Ponytail Hair

November 15, 2004
I have horrific ponytail hair today. More specifically, GREASY horrific ponytail hair. I look like the lead singer of Extreme in the “More Than Words” video. NOT a good look for me.

Ah hair. Such an interesting topic. When a woman’s hair is not up to par, it can ruin an entire day, month, year – you name it. As a matter of fact – I had an entire BAD HAIR YEAR! That might be a good title for my memoir.

“This year’s runaway best seller is the hilarious and heart-wrenching memoir of a young girl’s battle with cancer and the ups and downs (yes- there are downs) of recovery and remission. Go out and buy your copy of “Bad Hair Year” today! – New York Times Book Review”

Actually I was thinking of calling it – “Ginger Ails.” And then I would write a subsequent memoir about my spiral into depression, drugs and just all-out craziness called “Ginger Snaps” And then after I have kids “Ginger Bred.” Ok – too cutesy, huh? Actually, I even had an idea for cover art – a gingerbread cookie hooked up to chemo and wearing a wig for “Ginger Ails” and that same cookie in pieces for “Ginger Snaps”. And then that cookie with little cookies for “Ginger Bred.” Actually – I need to do something soon. I ain’t getting any younger folks. I need to make a goal. A goal of having at least 500 pages by my 30th birthday. That’s next August. I think I could do it. Then again – there are all of these fears. I mean –who the hell is going to want to read about some dumb girl from Louisiana? Who cares, really? If I was famous, maybe. But why would anyone want to keep up with the trials and travails of this nobody from Brusly? Well – I suppose Erma Bombeck had to start somewhere. She was funny and normal first - then famous. Of course, I’m thinking that these days, funny women writing funny things about their funny lives are a dime a dozen. Or maybe I’m misperceiving this.

Well – the good news is that I did begin work on Ginger Ails/Bad Hair Year already. I just have a hard time dragging things out into book length because, frankly, they just seem “dragged out” when you read them. And I hate that.

Hmmm – I don’t know.

I’m debating on whether or not to go on and on about the entire weekend in miniscule detail about how we went to Cristiano’s again and stuffed ourselves silly and then how I went to Chalmette with my Aunt Mary to my cousin (in-law’s) baby shower where I overhead phrases like “And then I said ‘YOU’RE NOT PUTTING MY BOOB IN A VICE, MISTER’” and “HEY – Don’t eat that! That’s Mama’s lucky bean! Put that back in my change purse!” and the lovely “I tell you what, he would be one dead doctor is all I’m saying!” Imagine this in accents that sound much like a Brooklyn/Jersey kind of accent. They say “huh” instead of “her.” Anyway – and then how we went to the most ghetto Marshalls ever (because I like to go to Marshalls in other towns) but how I ended up getting a Tommy Hilfiger 400 THREAD COUNT fitted sheet for $16.99 (original price $60!!!). And then how we went to church and then said our goodbyes and Chad left for Phoenix for a week of training (which, by the way, we specifically prayed for and he had no idea that he was going to be doing this so soon) and then how I shopped myself sick for hours and hours and then how we had tacos at Jessie and Joey’s new apartment and then how I went home and went to bed, didn’t set the alarm correctly, woke up at ten til 7:00 (have to leave at 7:15) and so made the disgusting decision to come to work in the hair that hasn’t been washed since Saturday morning (UGH!) which all leads up to this whole hair discussion.


I guess that about covered it.

10:47 a.m. ::
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