Ultimate Bad Hair Day

The Ultimate Bad Hair Day
By Judy Kelsey

Well…if I have ever done a stupid thing, today certainly takes the cake. (Not that I ever do anything goofy or unsmart…) To make a long story shorter, I was hurrying to get ready to take a dog for his OFA x-ray, an appointment I had waited months for, and was all ready to go, except for my hair.

Well, I got the curling iron heated up (the kind some man probably designed, as a subversive attack on all unsuspecting women-the kind that has those rows of teeth all around the flippin’ thing ?!?) Well, in my rush, I forgot that this kind of iron is used only for short hair, and is just to curl the ends of your hair-not to roll right up from the ends to the head…need I say more girls?

I could not get that infernal thing out of my hair! I tried to roll it, unroll it, pull, push-and it just made matters worse, the tangle becoming so tight, I couldn’t move the dumb thing. (Luckily, I did think to turn it off!)

I finally had such a rat’s nest, I decided to put some conditioner on it, to see if slippery would help. Well, it actually helped a little, but I still couldn’t get the thing off, or anywhere near off, so I decided to try a half bottle of corn oil! (This is what we use on horse’s tails that get birdox in them-I figured it couldn’t hurt to try, as my next option was to cut the blasted thing off my head!)

Alas, still no release, and now it is time to leave for the vet’s. Should I call and cancel? Well, of course not! So, here I go, on the toll road, putting my hand up to my head, pretending I was scratching every time I passed a car. The toll booth lady looked at me kinda funny when I asked for a receipt (always thinking of Uncle Sam, you know!), but why would she think I looked funny? I only had an oily old curling iron attached to the front of my face !!

Now, I get to the vet (I know everybody there), walk in with my dog under one arm, purse under the other, curling iron on the front of my head, with the cord wrapped around my neck about forty-two times so I wouldn’t trip…and, before the poor girl looks up from the desk, I stop about ten feet before the counter and say, “Now, don’t laugh!” Well, she looked up and burst out laughing, at which time everyone else that works there comes around the corner to see what’s going on, and everybody is on the floor, doubled over.

I hide from the other waiting room people, and the gal, now my friend for life, a vet assistant that was never so needed at her job… to rescue poor souls who walk in the door with electric attachments to their skulls…

Anyway, she worked at it for I don’t know how long-luckily the vet was running late. Finally she got a screwdriver (from someone’s purse !) – I simply could not believe this – and took the end off the metal shaft, at which point, the handle and cord could slide out. Now, all the little comb-things were still rat-infested in my hair, but she said that almost looked like I did it on purpose, the way some hair styles are these days. She did finally get them out, one at a time, and do I have an aching head! And a bald spot about the size of a quarter.

The vet thought it was especially funny, and vowed that he wouldn’t tell anyone-ha, ha. He is nasty, and I know it will be all over the world, so I might as well tell the whole story myself. He did say that in all his borned days as a vet, he has never had anything even close to this happen.

In the words of Roseanne Rosanna Danna… “Nevermind.”