Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Episode 27; Foul Mouthed Parrot


In this episode I'm joined by Fairy Priness Holly and we discuss so many topics from hair cuts to animals to the state of Big Fatty's colon. You can find her at http://weremeanbecauseyourestupid.com/


You can get this and any other of my episodes at: http://adrinktobesober.libsyn.com/

2 comments:

epilonious said...

I remember super colon blow... it looked like charcoal briquettes.

Fun show!

David-That Blue Jeans Guy-Byrd said...

I have a "bad haircut" story that I believe can rival any of yours.

After moving to Saginaw, I looked for a person to cut my hair. I am also picky about how my hair is cut, and my experience has told me that gay men know how to cut my hair, and straight women don't. With this thought in mind, I eagerly looked for signs of a member of the "family" who cuts hair.

While out driving one day, I saw a sign for a salon, and based on two characteristics, I thought my quest was fulfilled. After all, any time you see a guy's name and the word "salon" on the same sign, it's pretty encouraging. Couple that with the fact that the guy's name was one of those names that one frequently sees in its abbreviated form(s), but was completely spelled out, and I thought I had my salon.

I called and set an appointment, and on the day of, I took a long lunch to get my hair cut. When I arrived, I was amazed to find out that the male proprietor was not there, and he had one of his straight female stylists on duty. Rather than give in to the instinct that said "run, you silly bitch, run," I agreed to sit in her chair and trust the universe to guide her fingers as if she had suddenly become a gay man.

This woman started with the usual running fingers through my hair to gauge its thickness, where it parts, and the like. She then announces to me that I have a growing bald spot (um, thanks?), and that I should have her work on a style that covered it. I reluctantly agreed.

Long story short, when she finished and twirled me around in the chair to survey her work, I came to a gut-wrenching realization that she had given me a "Dorothy Hammill." Yes, a Dorothy Hammill with long bangs, a tapered neck, and clearly the wrong style for me. I couldn't decide if I wanted to scream or cry. I left the salon and went back to work.

I was no sooner back in the door than one of the sales clerks gave me the "pop eyed" expression, prompting me to pull rank and tell her I didn't want to hear it. She was disappointed, but realized that it's best not to piss off the boss who is already having a bad hair day.

Great show!